Page 48 of Born in Grief

Dhrithi was sleeping but she wasn’t sleeping in Virat’s apartment. She was passed out on his couch, that annoying duffel bag still parked right near her hand. Shadows lengthened inside the apartment, the only light coming from the city outside.

He watched the play of light and shadows on her face. The face that had haunted his dreams for years now, over a decade and more. She’d been all planes and angles in school. She was stilltoo thin to be healthy, but he knew that was more recent events than anything else. She murmured something in her sleep, wincing as the movement pulled at the healing cut across her lip.

As always the sight of the violence she’d endured caused another rip in his already bleeding heart. Did she mourn him? Did she grieve the bastard’s death? She claimed he’d blackmailed her into a relationship but surely, at some point there had been love? She’d married him, hadn’t she?

She turned restlessly on the couch, almost falling over the edge. Amay moved before he could stop himself, kneeling beside the couch and murmuring her name. She woke slowly, her eyes opening to meet his, sleepy and unfocused.

“Amay,” she whispered, one hand coming up to touch his face, the whole movement dreamlike and surreal. The gentle trail of her fingers on his face had him swallowing convulsively.

“You’re going to fall off the couch,” he said brusquely. “It was a stupid idea to fall asleep here.”

The sleep fled her eyes at his curt tone and she dropped her hand, sitting up in one smooth motion.

“Get your stuff,” he said, straightening to his full height. “I’ll take you back to Virat’s place.”

He was turning towards the door when her hand grabbed his and stopped him. He glanced down to where her pale fingers rested on his darker ones. As he watched, she slid her fingers through his tightening her grip and sending a tremor through his body. The moment felt fraught with emotion that shouldn’t exist, with sensation that felt both horribly familiar and distressingly strange.

“I’m not going back to Virat’s place.”

Dhrithi, like him, seemed to be hypnotised by the sight of their hands together. She stared at it, her fingers trembling in his. Instinctively, Amay tightened his grip in an effort to soothe her.

Amay sighed. “A hotel isn’t-“

“Not a hotel.” She raised her eyes to meet his now. “I want to stay here. With you.”

It felt like the air stilled around him. Her words wrapped themselves around the neediest part of him, the one that had always craved love, the one that had hoped to one day be chosen by someone, anyone.

But when he spoke, he forced himself to say, “That’s not a good idea.”

“Please Amay.” She rose to her feet, his deepest longing in human form, standing before him. “Before I ruined everything, before I destroyed what we had, before we thought we could be more, you were my best friend. I miss my friend. I miss you. Please?”

He didn’t know what she was asking of him. He doubted even she knew. But that same part of Amay who’d always longed for her, couldn’t deny her anything, even an unvoiced, unnamed thing.

“You can stay here,” he said gruffly. “But not on the couch. I’ll make up the bed in the guest bedroom.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Amay nodded, forcing himself to let go of her hand and step away. He walked towards the guest bedroom, his mind listing allthe ways in which this was a mistake. The biggest mistake of his life.

I miss my friend. I miss you.

She’d broken him the last time. But this time…this time she would destroy him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

DHRITHI

Dhrithi sat across from Inspector Vikram Mathur and met his quiet, focused gaze. She’d met all the bigwigs Virat had lined up and now, it was time for her interview. Interview or interrogation? Her heart thudded, a school’s marching band tucked away in her chest. She twisted her sweaty fingers together in her lap and forced her breathing to steady.

“Would you like some water?”

Dhrithi jumped, her nerves getting the better of her. “No, thank you,” she said, her gaze dropping to the scarred metal table she sat at. She was alone in the room with the policeman.

Virat was waiting in the next room. Ishaan had dropped them off in his swanky car. Amay had not come.

Amay had not come.

The depths of her disappointment surprised her. Why did it matter? He didn’t owe her anything. If anyone owed anyone something, then it was Dhrithi who owed him. He’d alreadyhelped her out so much including letting her live in his home like an illegal squatter.

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