Page 2 of Born in Grief

A cracking noise, like dry timber breaking, sounded through the house followed by a high-pitched keening noise. Aai, he thought, terror struck. He should do something. He should help her. He should stop Baba.

Another scream and he shoved his hands over his ears, even as the sound pierced his eardrums and arrowed straight to his soul.

He’d promised Aai, he reminded himself. He always stayed in his room, and she came to him later. If he broke that promise, his Baba would punish her more. That’s what she always told him. He had to stay in his room. He must not interfere. This was between husband and wife. He was a child. He didn’t understand. He continued to parrot his mother’s words in his mind. An endless rote of her quiet promises and reassurances.

He heard a rhythmic thudding sound now, over and over again. But nothing more. No sound from Aai. The screaming had stopped. That was good right? If she wasn’t screaming, it meant she wasn’t hurting.

He kept his hands tightly pressed against his ears even as the thudding sound still filtered through. He wouldn’t come out of the cupboard until Aai came. When she came, he would take such good care of her, he vowed, that she would feel no pain again. He would apply the medicine they hid in his bathroom cabinet and clean the blood and wrap her hurt parts with bandages. And then Aai would hold him, and she would sing a lullaby to him, and everything would be alright.

The thudding sound stopped. Silence fell. It was over. It was finally over.

Aai would come soon, and everything would be alright again. He just had to wait for her to come. Just a little longer. Aai would come. Aai always came.

Hours later, sunlight filtered through his room and reached the tiny gap below the cupboard door. Amay stared at it in terror, his mind realizing what his heart wouldn’t accept.

It was morning. Aai hadn’t come.

Chapter One

DHRITHI

Dhrithi hid on the floor of her walk-in closet, two lines of gowns and sarees shielding her frozen frame, her body curled into a fetal position, eyes tightly scrunched shut. She could hear her husband on the other side of the door as he wandered through their bedroom, talking to someone on the phone.

Quiet. She had to be quiet.

She heard the closet door open, and her husband walk in, steady, measured footsteps as he paced the length of the space that held his clothes.

“Crypto is taking a beating at the moment, but we can look to moving some funds into high-risk equity.”

The deep baritone that had once thrilled her and now terrified her held an undertone of quiet amusement as he spoke. She heard a sniff as he riffled through his shirts and her blood ran cold. She knew that sniff. She knew what it meant. And more importantly, she knew what it meant for her.

If her husband had just done some lines of cocaine, he was going to be pumped and riding a high that did not bode well for her. A whimper climbed her throat, dying a soundless death as the door to her closet opened. She huddled closer to the back, her eyes tightly shut, much like a child, she hoped that if she couldn’t see the monster, the monster couldn’t see her.

But the monster always saw her.

A large hand wrapped around her ankle, giving it a hard yank. She went flying, her back sliding along the marble flooring, her head bouncing against it, pain splicing through her.

She landed in a crumpled heap at his feet. Varun Gokhale looked down at her and smiled. “Hello Darling. I’m home.”

Dhrithi froze on the ground, her muscles locking in fear. Varun cocked his head, his arms propped on his hips.

“What are you doing in there?” He got down on his haunches, slipping one hand behind her back and hauling her up into a sitting position. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” he whispered into her ear. He traced one finger down the sharp curve of her jaw. “I will always find you. You hide. I seek.”

Tremors snaked through Dhrithi’s body as she tried to lean away from Varun, even as he held her in a tight embrace. He brought one hand up to wipe his upper lip, a thin line of white powder coating his forefinger.

“Hide and seek, my love,” he crooned, his eyes huge, the pupils looking like tiny pinpricks. “Do you want to play some more?”

“No.” The word was a bare breath of sound, fear making her almost catatonic. She dug deep, fighting the waves of panicwashing through her and forced weight into her words. “You must be tired. Let me get dinner organised.”

“Dinner?” he grinned, teeth bared like a feral animal. “I don’t want dinner.” He leaned forward and licked her, one long swipe from her temple to the curve of her jaw. Dhrithi shuddered. “I want dessert.” His hand tightened painfully around her arm, almost cutting off the blood circulation.

The next second, Dhrithi found herself being dragged to her feet. Varun gave her a hard shove and she went careening into the bedroom, her ankle colliding against the hard, wooden bedframe. The back of his hand caught her cheek and she went flying, her head knocking against the bedpost this time. She blinked back tears of pain, desperately trying to focus.

“Varun please,” she begged, even knowing it will make no difference.

In response, he slid his belt free of its loops, the quiet snick of sound turning her blood to water in her veins.

“In the closet, Dhrithi?” he tsked, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. “That’s so unimaginative. Surely, the school topper could do better than that.”

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