Page 22 of Born in Grief

“You did this to us Dhrithi. That’s how this happened.”

Amay’s words floated around in her brain, elusive little sprites from the past, a haunting echo of all the choices she’d made. The wrong ones for sure but the only ones that had been open to her at that point.

“Dhrithi.” Her father barged into her room, a file in one hand and his phone in the other. His lips were set in a thin, tense line. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” she murmured, a vague anxiety taking root inside her at her father’s expression.

“Varun’s funeral is set for tomorrow.”

“H-his funeral?” Her breath hitched, her heart starting to race at the sound of his name.

Seated on the edge of the attender’s bed, her mother switched the television off and turned, for once her focus shifting to what was happening in the room.

“Arindam, we’ll have to attend,” her mother said, adjusting her crushed coord set. “Dhrithi can’t be there because of this.” The ‘this’ was emphasised with a wave of her hand towards Dhrithi and the hospital bed. “We have to represent her.”

“Yes. Of course.” Her father was still staring at her, his hard eyes boring into her like he needed to tunnel through to her secrets. “Dhrithi, your in laws are coming to visit you in the hospital. Today. One day before the funeral.”

She shut her eyes, knowing her moment of reckoning was at hand but not ready to deal with it as yet. Her father sat down beside her on the hospital bed, making it creak and sink a little on its wheels.

“Dhrithi, I need to know what to expect when they get here.”

“We both do,” her mother butted in. “When I spoke with Pavitra on the phone she was quite aloof. She didn’t even show any concern for Dhrithi. I was the one who had to update her on everything.”

Everything, Dhrithi assumed, was herself and her medical condition. Or it could have been the latest fashion trends. You could never tell with her mother.

“So was Bharat,” her father grunted, talking about her father-in-law. “Very aloof.”

Neither had called Dhrithi, forget coming to visit. Until now. And that’s just how she liked it. The less contact with the Gokhales the better. But right now, her parents were waiting for a response. From her.

“They must be devastated,” she mumbled finally. And they must be. As contentious as their relationship with Varun had been,they’d still lost their son. Their heir. Oh my God, the business. Her head started to throb at what was coming her way with their visit.

“Hmm.” Her father made a noncommittal sound, watching her closely. “You had a good relationship with them, didn’t you?”

Dhrithi nodded. She’d had a good relationship. She’d been the perfect daughter-in-law for every second of her marriage until…

“Then why haven’t they come to see you, Dhrithi?”

“They’re coming now,” she reminded him.

Her father raised one cool eyebrow at her. “Exactly. What’s the agenda?”

Dhrithi turned her face away from him, looking towards the wall. The paint was peeling in the corner, small flaky patches starting to appear. Was that allowed in a high-end hospital like this one? Shouldn’t it be impeccably maintained at all times?

“Dhrithi!” Her father’s patience was at an end.

Her gaze went to the IV bottle still dripping medicine into her veins. Could they sneak in a sedative so she didn’t have to deal with any of the parents? His or hers?

“I don’t know, Pa,” she sighed. “I guess we’ll find out when they get here.”

His gaze didn’t soften. “Don’t lie to me,” he warned. “I can’t help you if you lie to me.”

When had he ever helped her, she wondered. When had any of them ever helped her?

“You listen to me now.” Her father leaned forward, his crisp white shirt crinkling with the movement, his intense gaze drilling through her. “Whatever it is you’re hiding from me, you’d better fix it.”

Fix it. A dry laugh escaped her. Fix it! There was no fixing it!

“You think this is funny?” His voice sliced through her like a blade. “Varun’s inheritance is over three hundred crores and he died without a child.”

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