Page 37 of Born in Grief

“Hate to break it to you, Goody,” Ishaan retorted. “But most of the world doesn’t turn on the people they claim to be friends with.”

“Ishaan!” Amay’s frustrated shout had Virat sighing and closing his eyes in resignation. “Give it a rest.”

“So, why are you all here?” Dhrithi asked, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. Years of placating Varun had left her with undeniable skills at playing peacemaker.

“Dhrithi,” Virat said, holding her gaze, with a steady calming one. She was looking at the ultimate peacemaker, she realised. Whatever skills she had were child’s play compared to what he had. “We need to talk.”

“Talk about?”

“Varun. You. And the mess he’s left behind.”

And just like that the peace she thought she’d found shattered.

Chapter Twenty-Two

AMAY

He saw her pale even as her lips tightened in that way that was so familiar, it felt like he’d tumbled down a rabbit hole into the past. Shit. Ishaan was right. He was getting so lost in the girl he’d once known that he was losing his grip on his sanity and the present he’d built for himself.

“Thank you for your interest,” she said, her voice mechanical and toneless. “But this isn’t your concern, any of yours.”

“You’re living in his home.” Ishaan pointed to Virat. “It kind of makes it our problem.”

“I didn’t ask to come here!” Dhrithi met Ishaan’s glower head on though her voice started to rise in agitation. “You know that! I had a hotel room booked!” Something seemed to strike her and she added, “Actually, I haven’t cancelled the booking so I’ll just leave now and –“

“Dhrithi.” Amay stepped in front of her, gripping her flailing, gesturing hands in his and trying to stem her growing hysteria.It had the added benefit of cutting off her line of sight of Ishaan. “You need help. Let us help you.”

“Why?” She stared at him baffled. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Yes why, Ams?” Ishaan’s obnoxious voice floated over.

Amay shut his eyes for a moment, wondering just how much of the truth he wished to share.

“Because you were once my friend,” he told her finally, opening his eyes and looking at her. “And I don’t abandon my friends, especially when they’re in trouble.”

“He has a saviour complex,” Ishaan muttered.

“Shut up Ish,” Virat murmured.

“I’m not in trouble,” she said looking warily over his shoulder at his two friends. Whatever she saw in their faces didn’t reassure her. “I’m not,” she insisted. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I was just running from him –“

She stopped talking, her face stricken at what she’d revealed.

“It’s okay,” Amay told her gently. “We know.”

Tears filled her eyes, glistening and unshed, as she stared at him.

“We know what he did to you Dhrithi,” Amay said, his hands tightening on hers. “Please help us help you.”

Her composure shattered. A broken cry tore from her lips as she collapsed into his arms. Her grief wasn’t quiet; it wasn’t restrained. It was a tidal wave of anguish, raw and unrelenting, pouring out of her like a storm that had been waiting too long tobreak. Amay held her close, his arms strong but tender, his own heart fracturing with hers. Behind him, he heard the door open and shut—Virat, no doubt dragging Ishaan out to give them space.

Her sobs racked her small frame, wringing every ounce of pain from her body, and Amay simply held her through it all. Minutes, hours—it felt like an eternity before her cries softened into sniffles and hiccups. And when she finally cried herself dry, he only held on tighter. Her head rested on his chest, her hands clutching the back of his shirt.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said finally, her words a broken whisper.

“Well, if you’d just let us help, we could do something about that.”

“Why?” she asked with another sniffle. “Because you know it all?”

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