Page 39 of Born in Grief

“Drugs. Alchohol. Women.” The words flew out of her in a staccato rush.

“So, nothing changed since school then,” Ishaan mused. “He was born an asshole, and he died an asshole.”

“Ish-“ Virat and Amay’s voices rose.

“I know. I know.” Ishaan put his hands up in the air. “I’ll shut up.”

Virat pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. They were a beautiful, stormy grey.

“Contact lenses?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “How does an Indian end up with grey eyes?”

“Genetics,” he said crisply, apparently done with her babbling. “If the police can push their search warrant through, what will they find?”

Dhrithi blinked. “In the house? Nothing. At his office? I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to go there.”

“You weren’t allowed to go there?” Amay’s eyebrows rose, incredulity seeping through his voice.

Dhrithi shrugged, embarrassment coursing through her. “Varun didn’t like me to be too involved in his life,” she said quietly. “I was only allowed to be a part of the bits he required me for.”

“And what bits were those?” Anger flickered in Amay’s quiet voice, a suppressed ember that had her flinching instinctively.

“Public events where he needed to portray himself as a devoted family man. And in private, when he felt the need for a wife.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on the ways in which Varun needed a wife for the men in the room, the knowledge sat between them like a ticking time bomb.

“The other woman in his life,” Virat asked. “Who was she?”

“Woman?” Dhrithi laughed, a sad, bitter sound. “I said women. Varun was,” she paused before continuing. “Insatiable. He wanted things that were difficult for any one woman to fulfil. So, he had multiple.”

“Do you have names?” Virat asked.

Dhrithi forced herself to meet his gaze. The shame was not hers she reminded herself. It was Varun’s and she would be damned if she would allow herself to be buried in it with him.

“Some,” she answered Virat now. “Not all.”

“Can you give me a list by morning?”

Dhrithi nodded, her gaze slipping away from Virat to Amay. His face was blank, an impervious mask, but his eyes…his eyes blazed with an emotion he could no longer conceal. His eyes were the eyes of the boy who’d once looked at her like she’d hung the moon. The boy she’d kicked when he was down, breaking his heart with a savagery she hadn’t known she’d possessed. Would he ever understand why she’d done it? Would she ever have the guts to explain?

“Where did he pick these women up? Apps? Bars?”

Dhrithi couldn’t look away from Amay, her gaze trapped in his, her heart yearning for what she’d thrown away, for what she’d never have again.

“I don’t know,” she said, hoping Amay could hear her unspoken apology but knowing that even if he did, it was too little too late. “I never asked. But there were many.”

“How do you know?” Amay asked softly. “That there were many.”

“He brought them home.”

The rage that lit his eyes had her contrary heart quivering with a savage joy. Her husband may have wanted other women for all the years they were together, but this man, the one looking ather like he wanted to set fire to the world on her behalf, had at one time, wanted only her.

She felt the loss of his adoration, his quiet, steadfast love for the girl he thought she was with a keen desperation that knifed through her.

No one had ever looked at her the way Amay Aatre had once upon a time. No one ever would again. And Dhrithi had only herself to blame for it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

AMAY

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