Chapter 16
His world felt buoyant until Atharva came home and found Dev Kohli sitting there.
The one day he hadn’t taken calls or security updates from his house, it was invaded.
He leashed the flare of rage inside him.
This man. This shameless… Atharva stopped.
All eyes were turned to him — Dev Kohli’s, Begumjaan’s, and Iram’s.
His entire convoy had made enough of a spectacle depositing him at his doorstep.
“Sir?” Altaf stepped up beside him, clearly reading him.
“It’s ok.”
“I should have taken an update,” he whispered closely.
“It’s fine. You can go, Altaf.”
He nodded, stepped back and Atharva felt the cars and the men dismiss behind him.
He stepped inside his house, the dusk fallen in his hall too suddenly.
Iram sat far away from Dev, physically and emotionally.
He could see it. He knew it. He had gone through this again and again.
And yet, the idea of her reaching out to him in that fragile time of need.
And him sending her money. It felt like a betrayal of the highest order.
“Atharva,” Dev got to his feet. He nodded, his eyes meeting Begumjaan’s before passing over Iram’s.
She didn’t look worried. Like she trusted him to take care of this, in a good way.
Atharva felt the storm inside him soften.
That is what he had needed all along. Her trust. Her faith.
That he would make it ok. Even if he couldn’t, her trust in him would make him do unthinkable things, achieve unimaginable feats.
Atharva took his eyes back to their guest — “Dev,” he extended his hand. Dev stepped forward and shook it, looking just as exhausted as Atharva felt. He looked something else too. Guilty.
“When did you return from Durban?”
“Last night. I know we spoke about some things four months ago, but I did not express my condolences.” He glanced at Iram, then back at him, and meant it when he said it — “It’s a burden no parents should carry.”
Atharva gave a nod. “Sit.”
The baby monitor between Begumjaan and Iram blared to life. Yathaarth’s loud whine was followed by more waking-up noises. Not cries, but his calls to be properly woken up — pick-up and cuddles. Atharva felt his body move unconsciously before he saw Iram jump to her feet just as unconsciously.
“I will go and check,” she began to stride towards the stairs. Would she be able to pick him up from inside his cot? Atharva glanced at Begumjaan but she didn’t look like she was moving from her perch.
“Dev,” he addressed. “Let’s talk in my office. Would you like tea or coffee?”
“I had coffee, thanks.”
“Would you mind waiting in my office for two minutes?” Atharva gestured to Shiva. “Shiva will show you in.”
Dev looked conflicted, but nodded. As soon as he was on his way to his office on the other side of the house, Atharva gave Begumjaan a look and ran up. He sprinted down the corridor, panicked, only to hear Iram’s cooing. His heart slowed, as did his footsteps at the threshold of his bedroom.
“One minute, one minute…” her strained voice was soft as she leaned over the cot, trying to get her palms under their son. He was flailing, not looking too angry but just plain annoyed.
“Let me help,” he stepped inside, feeling relief reflect on her face as he sanitised his hands and bent down to scoop his son up. Yathaarth’s annoyance instantly turned into cuddling comfort. Atharva held him away from his chest, wary of his outdoor clothes.
“Dilbaro,” he nuzzled his hair, inhaling his baby shampoo and milk mix with closed eyes.
The scent always hit harder with eyes closed.
He planted a kiss in his hair, feeling small mewling sounds vibrate the little body in his hands.
Atharva chuckled, popping his eyes open and meeting the soft brown ones of his wife.
He stared, she stared back, transfixed.
“What is it?” He finally asked.
“I am meeting Arth’s Baba in a serene moment for the first time, it’s a happy moment for me.”
He humphed, feeling warm inside and tingly outside. He pressed another kiss to his son’s forehead and glanced at her over his skin — “Distracting me with this topic is working.”
Her mouth curled — “I am not distracting you.” Iram stepped forward until her chest was touching Yathaarth. She raised one hand and cupped Yathaarth’s head under his hand, her eyes on Atharva’s. “Every time before this, something has been burning between us while you had him in your arms.”
“Today it is not,” he murmured.
“Today it is not.”
“Not even the man downstairs?”
“I did not…”
“No,” he sighed. “Don’t justify yourself, Iram. I feel angry and unreasonable and I don’t want a recap to worsen it.”
“No,” she trampled on. “It’s a wound and you are trying to cover it without treating it. Did Dev leave?”
“He is waiting in my office.”
“Then go, but remember, Atharva, I did not call him or seek him out. He happened to be the number that rang twice on my mobile and he was the only source that was not connected to you. I am sorry, I am sorry that I asked him for money and he had it delivered to me…”
He held Yathaarth in one arm and wiped the track of tears tracing down her eye with the other.
“Don’t forgive me just because I am crying, but remember that it is not his mistake. He helped me in what little I told him.”
“I know,” Atharva cupped her cheek and used his thumb to dry the dampness on her jaw. “Now will you sit down so that I can pass him to you and go down?”
“But there is nobody here to help me back and my mobile is downstairs…”
“Ok, then come down. Begumjaan is there.”
“Atharva?”
“Hmm?”
“Does this undo all that we did yesterday?”
“Listen to me,” he stepped closer to her and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her into his free side. “From the moment I laid my eyes on you, it was only the two of us. There is no room for a third person. Never was. Nothing can undo this between us. Ok?”
Yathaarth’s tiny leg kicked her in the breast and she glanced down. Her face stretched into a smile.
“He is here to tighten it,” Atharva declared. “Even with his impeccable timing.”
She chuckled, holding his tiny foot between her fingers and laying a kiss on his sole.
————————————————————
“Thank you for waiting,” Atharva closed the door behind him and rounded his desk. Dev sat with his suit coat open, arms on the handrests, head turned to one of the three glass walls.
“Is your son settled?”
Atharva stilled in front of his chair, then nodded. He divested himself of his own coat and slung it around his chair before taking his seat.
“I do not have the right to ask,” Dev started.
“Then don’t ask,” Atharva cut him off.
“Where was she?”
Atharva felt some stability returning inside him at the knowledge that Iram hadn’t shared that piece of information with him.
Not then, not now. He trusted her, of course, he did.
But something unreasonable happened to him when Dev Kohli was involved.
Even after all these years, the fact that he had been there for her through some of her most vulnerable weeks, and now vulnerable hours, made a deluge rise inside him.
“That is none of your business. As we spoke in June, you should have stalled and come to me when you received that call.”
“I am not here to discuss ifs and buts, Atharva.”
“Then what are you here for?”
He stared at him, silent.
“You pushed her to that point…”
“Enough.”
His eyes fell shut, the lines around them deeper under the bright lights of this office.
There was more grey in his temples now, age catching up.
Atharva observed him shake his head before slowly opening his eyes — “You are right,” he admitted.
“I should not ask. All I know is that I was at my mine in remote Limpopo when her distressed call cracked through network outages. All I know is that I drove twenty minutes to just find enough bars to manage to make the call back. And she asked for help.”
Atharva scoffed. Dev’s defeated expression flared up — “What are you sour about? She married you, she chose you, she became the mother of your children. I let go of whatever that could have been long ago, Atharva. I don’t know why you could not. In spite of winning her.”
Blood thumped in his ears.
Atharva stared, unmoved. Never had this admission been voiced out loud between them. Iram was the unsaid antagonism between them. Present, screaming, in their faces, but always unsaid.
I let go of whatever that could have been long ago. I don’t know why you could not.
He exhaled. Once, long ago, Dev had been a friend.
Not a close one, but a business friend nonetheless.
In a world where splitting political ideologies and one-upmanship meant friends were hiding foes, and backs could not be turned without being stabbed, Atharva had prided himself on knowing and respecting Dev Kohli. And trusting him.
“Forgive me for being blunt, but what are you here for today?”
“Blunt?”
Atharva let out a reluctant chuckle, admitting what he had never admitted to anybody but his wife. “You are right. A lot has passed between then and now for me to still hold on to it.”
Dev nodded.
“I thought you had done something, hurt her. That is why she needed help. You would have had to do something abominable for her to leave her infant son behind. And a part of me was enraged at you for doing that. That’s why I did not cooperate.”
Atharva blinked, non-committal, not bothering to correct Dev’s assessment. The less he or anybody knew, the better.
“What’s gone is gone,” Atharva remarked. “But since you are here now, I need to address something with you.”
“Go on.”
“This needs to be kept confidential. And while I do not doubt you, I am obligated to ask you to sign a confidentiality pledge to bury this. An NDA of sorts.”
“I understand. Let me know when and where, and I’ll have my lawyer handle it.”
“The less people know about this, the better. Can you read it yourself and consult with my Press Secretary? I know it is asking a lot, but trust me enough to know that this is only to tie loose ends and nothing more.”
Dev took a moment to think.
“Let me read the document first.”
“I will have Amaal contact you tomorrow and set it up.”
“That works fine,” Dev stood to his feet, buttoning his suit coat. “I do not know what happened, where Iram was these last four months. Earlier, when I came, she did not tell me anything but that she is back, and everything is ok. But if my signing something will put you two at ease, I will do it.”
“I appreciate what you did for Iram,” Atharva got up. “I don’t like it, but I appreciate your sentiment to ensure her safety.”
Dev moved to open the door. Atharva walked him down the alley and to the main hall where laughter reverberated. His silent house was alive after months today.
“…see now,” Begumjaan was holding her bright red silk scarf bunched up over Yathaarth lying in Iram’s lap and his son was following the scarf with his eyes. Atharva fell in love with Iram’s fascination of Yathaarth’s eye movement.
“Look at my smart boy!” She bent over him, nuzzling his nose. “Who is my smart boy?”
Begumjaan moved the scarf and draped it over Iram’s head and Yathaarth’s eyes fixated there. She bent over him again and the scarf slid to his face. Iram pulled it off with a flourish and a gasp, and Yathaarth chortled up at her.
“His laughter is very sweet.”
It was then that Atharva remembered that Dev was standing beside him. Iram did too, as her eyes reached them and the bright smile slowly drained, to a polite one. They walked to the sofas and Atharva reached down for their son, giving Iram the chance to rise to her feet.
She did, coming face to face with Dev. He was smiling at her — “He has to be smart, you both are high IQs.”
Iram’s answering smile was half-pride, half-abashment. Atharva glanced at Yathaarth, who was staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular. Dev’s finger touched his cheek and he turned his head to him.
“Very sweet.”
“Thank you,” Iram said to him, taking his attention back to her. “For everything.”
And Atharva did not feel awkward or out of place in that space where his wife was thanking the man who had once dreamed of marrying her.
With their son in his arms, Iram returned to him after struggles of her own, he knew that there were forces bigger than Dev Kohli that had tried to keep Iram Haider from him and failed.
And Dev Kohli hadn’t even tried to keep her away from him.
“Repeating what I said once,” Dev stared at his wife. “If you ever need anything, I’ll be there.” He glanced at Atharva — “Forgive me for being blunt.”
He chuckled. And as Dev walked out of his house, Atharva stepped closer to Iram, Yathaarth between them.
“I have been unreasonable, but now I am getting over it.’
“You are not being unreasonable,” Iram countered. “I would be like you if the roles were reversed.”
“You would have slit Toru Ray’s throat with your sharp tongue.”
“Why would it be Toru Ray?!” She turned on him. He smirked, hauling his son higher on his shoulder — “Mama is angggry. Let’s go.” He turned and began to walk, Iram on his heels. “Why would it be Toru Ray?! What did she do while I was not here?”
His eyes caught Begumjaan. Lounging back. Cat eyes on them. Mouth curled.