Page 58 of Born in Grief

“Primary residence?” Her gaze shot to his, eyebrows raised. “How many residences am I supposed to have?”

“A place in Delhi and London, plus the farm in Karjat in his name. He also rents in New York.”

“And how many are there that are not in his name?” she asked, her astute gaze trained on his face.

“Four at last count.”

She exhaled, leaning back against the headboard. “I thought I knew,” she said, looking down at her toes that she was flexing. “I thought I knew what he was capable of. For some reason, I thought he reserved that side for me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he hated me.” Dhrithi closed her eyes, her head falling forward.

Amay’s heart ached at the sight of the defeat that lined her pose. Before his brain could override his impulse, he went to sit beside her, mimicking her pose on the bed but careful to maintain a little distance, to not touch her, even accidentally.

“Why would he hate you, Dhriths? He schemed like Lucifer himself to marry you. His love was twisted, abusive and as toxic as the deepest bowels of hell, but he surely felt something for you to go to the lengths he did to have you.”

To take her from him, Amay amended in his mind.

“The only thing he felt was the want to have something or someone that wasn’t his to have. He wanted me because he didn’t have me. And he realised even after he did have me, that he truly didn’t. I was never his, not with the mangalsutra roundmy neck or the sindoor in my hair. I was never his and I’m proud of the fact,” she added fiercely.

“You should be,” he said quietly.

Her head drooped sideways, coming to rest on his shoulder. He stiffened but he didn’t move. He allowed her to rest on him, drawing comfort from him while soothing his battered soul with the balm of her presence.

“My parents won’t talk to me. Not unless, I agree to stake a claim on Varun’s assets.”

“Even the ones that are not in his name?” Amay asked, grinning when she swatted his shoulder.

“I don’t want anything from him. Not even the blood money his family are offering.”

“How much do they think the years of systemic abuse are worth?” he asked, his hand reaching for hers, fingers twining through her slender ones.

“Nothing,” she answered softly, her fingers tightening around his, her cheek nuzzling his shoulder. “The abuse is worth nothing. My silence, though, is worth about ten crores.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Peanuts for monkeys,” she laughed, a sad, soft sound. “I’ve been silent for so long, they don’t expect any trouble from me.”

She tilted her face up to meet his gaze as he looked down at her. “But they’re wrong.”

He smiled, a small quirk of his lips. “Are they?”

“I’m going to scream so loudly, Varun’s going to hear me in whichever pit of hell he currently is in. I’m not just going to cause them trouble. For them, I am Trouble.”

He laughed, the sound lightening her fierce expression, smoothing out the lines in her brow.

“Who would have thought Ms. Goody Two Shoes would one day decide to be Trouble?”

“Look who’s talking,” she teased. “Aren’t you the boy who refused to return a book even a day late to the library?”

“Books are sacred and so are libraries.” Amay mock frowned at her. “You were just a bloody slow reader for all that you were a bookworm.”

“I liked to savour my books, not speedread them like some maniacs I know. How do you even sink into a story if you read at that pace?”

“You don’t sink into a story. You absorb it. And it was a normal pace, hence the normal library deadline that applied to all students, except caterpillars who crawled through the pages apparently.”

She smiled, a sly smirk. “At least this caterpillar didn’t dog ear pages of the library book.”

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