Gut Instinct
Jai
My finger traced the rim of the glass. Whisky had dulled the roar of pain into a bitter hum.
The sweet sound of Ananya’s giggle whispered in my head.
I brought the drink to my lips and tipped it back. After five glasses, the alcohol had lost its burn. More. I reached for the bottle, but a hand grabbed it first and took it away.
‘That’s enough for one night,’ Harish uncle said.
I gripped the armrest, ready to rise. ‘Well, time to go home.’
‘Sit down.’
I glared at him, but remained seated.
‘If Lehenga Bazaar has reduced you to an alcoholic, Amar has done a bad job at raising you.’
I snorted, looking away.
‘You’ve been here for two hours and have barely spoken two sentences. If not that, what is it?’ he asked.
Ananya’s face resurfaced in my mind. ‘We broke up,’ I forced out, each word burning like salt rubbed onto a bleeding gash.
Why couldn’t I hate her? Why couldn’t I think about something else for one fucking second? At best, I distracted myself for brief moments before her memory returned and tore through me again. It was as if she had branded herself in my thoughts.
‘Last week, you said things were great. What happened?’
My voice faltered. ‘She … she didn’t love me. Not enough to be honest with me. It’s not her fault. Maybe it’s me. It’s me who’s unlovable. Not a good enough boyfriend. Not a good enough son.’
‘That’s not true, Jai,’ he said vehemently. ‘You cannot—’
‘Dad kicked me out.’
Harish uncle froze.
‘Said I was disrespectful, accusing his wife of ...’ My voice broke.
‘Of what?’ His voice was tight. Controlled.
‘Sabotage.’ I swallowed hard. ‘She was behind what Lehenga Bazaar did.’
‘Rekha.’ Colour drained from his face. ‘You’re saying Rekha did this?’
‘Yes.’
He sounded half unconvinced. ‘How do you know?’
‘She hired Ananya as my assistant to spy on me.’
I spat out.
‘That is why you broke up,’ he murmured.
I reached for the bottle and poured myself another glass. This time, he didn’t stop me.
‘It’s her word against Rekha’s,’ Harish uncle said. ‘You need proof.’
‘There is no proof.’ I took a swig.
‘Did you talk to IT? Check the access logs to the cloud system—’
‘Access was given on a need-to-know basis. The investigation is underway, but it’s useless.
’ I shook my head. ‘For LB to be able to release the collection in a month, they would have to be working on it for at least two months. Add another week for planning. Only the board members knew about the plans then. And all they had was the strategy and the numbers, not the whole business plan.’
It couldn’t be them.
‘With some time leeway, Dad, the CFO and the CPO had the full proposal, but I know those men. I trust them. They wouldn’t—’
I thought I knew Ananya. That she was trustworthy. Where did that get me?
‘I agree. Mohit is honest to a fault, and Patil … well, he’s not a fan of Rekha. Even if he did do it, he wouldn’t have done it for her,’ Harish uncle said. ‘Who else had the full plan, Jai? Think.’
My eyes squeezed shut.
Ananya had worked on pieces of it for me, but she didn’t have the numbers – the most important part. Other than her … My eyes snapped open and landed on Harish uncle.
‘You.’
He grew serious. ‘Jai, I would never …’
I knew he wouldn’t.
But trust had led me nowhere.
‘I gave you that draft.’ My voice was barely audible. ‘Before anyone else. You reviewed it. Gave me your notes. But you never returned that file.’
His expression shifted. Not guilt. Or maybe guilt in the guise of dignity. ‘I’m going to let this go out of respect for Amar. And because you are clearly drunk and out of your goddamn mind.’
A pressure built beneath my ribs, suffocating me. ‘Where is that file, uncle?’
He preferred physical papers, so I printed it out and gave him a file.
‘If I had really done it, why would I—’
‘I’d like to see it.’ I held his gaze. ‘Now.’
Time seemed to hold still for a moment. He stood there, his jaw set, and walked to his study without a word.
I followed.
The room smelled of old paper and sandalwood agarbatti. A large mahogany table sat in the middle of his study. Shelves lined with knickknacks and books covered one wall and a three-foot-tall cabinet sat opposite it.
He opened it and began leafing through the files.
I stood by and watched.
If he had scanned it, there’d be a digital trail – an email, a drive, something Arjun could dig out if I asked. If he’d made a copy and handed it over in person, that would be harder. But not impossible.
He stilled. Slowly turned.
The look on his face made my feet feel like concrete.
‘I’d put it in there,’ he said. He was pointing at the cabinet, but not looking at it anymore. His eyes were on me. ‘I’m sure of it. Books go on the shelves and files in the cabinet.’
‘Then where is it?’
His eyes moved from the cabinet to his desk to the shelves and back again. ‘I … I might have misfiled it. Or …’ He exhaled. ‘It’s in here. No one comes in my office, Jai.’
My fists clenched.
I was wrong earlier. Trust led me here. To this room. To watching a man I’d known my whole life fumble for an explanation that kept slipping through his fingers.
‘Jai.’ His voice dropped. ‘You have to believe me. I haven’t given Rekha anything. I can barely stand the woman. I only ever see her on special occasions – like that dinner for Rivaayat. She—’ He abruptly stopped talking.
The silence stretched.
His eyebrows drew closer.
‘Unless …’ He shook his head once. ‘No, no, that’s—’
But he was already settling into his chair, reaching for the mouse. The computer screen cast a pale light on his face.
‘Maybe,’ he said, more to himself than me.
‘What are you doing?’ I moved behind him, looking at the screen over his shoulder.
‘Checking something,’ he said, his voice growing confident.
He opened an app that had a list of dates. He scrolled down and clicked on 19 March 2025. It was the day we had come here to celebrate the board’s approval of my proposal.
A CCTV video of this room popped open.
The angle of this video suggested the camera was set on the top shelf of the library. My eyes flickered to it. A small, gleaming lens stared back. It wasn’t obvious; you wouldn’t even see it if you weren’t looking for it.
He skipped forward to seven thirty, when we arrived, then fast-forwarded.
For a long time, nothing happened.
Then, a movement.
Harish uncle paused the video, went back and replayed it.
The door opened slowly, and Rekha stepped in, closing it softly behind her. She rifled through the drawers and the file cabinet, glancing at the door every few seconds.
Then she pulled out a familiar navy folder titled ‘New Line Proposal’. It wasn’t clearly visible in the video, but I recognised that file. She skimmed through the dossier, lingering briefly on a few pages before she snapped it shut and put it in her purse.
I staggered back a step, my back hitting the wall. I slumped against it.
Harish uncle didn’t do it.
Ananya didn’t do it.
‘Midway through dinner, she had gotten up to use the restroom and had been gone a while. I think that’s when she did it.’
My vision blurred. Both of them were being honest.
I’d been so sure. And I’d been wrong about it all.
‘I … I’m sorry.’ The words scraped out of me. ‘I never should have doubted you.’
‘No.’ His voice was restrained, but landed heavily. ‘You shouldn’t have.’
My guilt amplified. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. ‘I just ...’ I stopped. Started again. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, uncle.’
He was silent for a moment. Then stood and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s okay. Let’s put this behind us.’
I looked at the floor.
Fifteen minutes ago, I’d stood right here, looked him in the eye and accused him. After Dadaji, he was the only one who truly cared about me unconditionally, without a motive, without waiting to see what I’d amount to first.
And I had …
Shame sat low and heavy, refusing words.
‘This is what matters more now, Jai,’ he said, pointing at his computer screen. ‘This is absurd. Why would she even do this? What could she possibly get out of this?’ His voice was sharper now, the softness gone.
I forced my eyes up. My gaze slid to the screen.
It was a still of Rekha zipping up her purse.
He was right. Again.
The video replayed in my mind.
Rekha sneakily entering the office. Searching for the file. Slipping it in her purse.
My heart constricted for a different reason. The woman I’d called mom all my life did this to me.
She’d never truly been my mother. Only Ayaan’s.
‘I’m very excited to show you, Dad. You’re going to love it.’
‘Where’s Ayaan? It’s his company as well. He needs to attend this meeting.’
The montage of memories played in my mind. I remembered how upset she was with Ayaan right after that.
‘You need to grow up and take some responsibility. Especially at work. How will anyone take you seriously? This is going to be your company one day; you need to act like it.’
What she said hours ago.
‘House of Advani will disappear if you continue making business decisions based on sentimental values. Maybe you’re not ready to be CEO after all.’
Her motives became clear.
‘She wants Ayaan to inherit the company,’ I said, my voice hollow. ‘Be CEO.’
Harish uncle looked at me for a long moment, shaken. ‘I always knew she was a manipulative woman,’ he finally said. ‘But this … I never imagined she would sink this low.’
A fist closed around my heart. She hadn’t just stolen my work. She’d snatched my father’s faith in me. All these years … all the jabs, pointed silences … it hadn’t been indifference. It had been antagonism. And yet, Dad chose her over me.
The hollow ache inside me splintered even wider. Dadaji was the only reason I was considered a part of the family. And now that he was gone …
I dragged a hand down my face. Was it really that easy to cast me out?
Ananya’s face flashed before me.
She’d cast me aside, too. Broke my trust as if she didn’t care.