Page 60 of Born in Grief

It had always been only his home, she reflected, even when she’d lived there. So, what did it matter what he called it?

Another thought occurred to her as she asked cautiously, “What time did you say?”

“Ten thirty,” he replied brusquely. “Be there.”

“And if I don’t come?”

“Don’t test me, Dhrithi.” The words were flat, toneless. “Varun was my son. If you thought he was hard to live with, you have no idea how far I will go.”

The line went dead before she could respond. She sat there for a while, the phone in her hand, her mind ticking, a million thoughts rumbling through her head.

Tomorrow. Ten thirty.

She got up from the bed in a rush walking down the short hallway to where she knew Amay’s bedroom was. She’d never been inside it, or even close to it, so far but she didn’t let that stop her.

With a perfunctory knock, she shoved the door open and entered. “Amay-“

Whatever she’d been about to say, the words evaporated from the top of her head at the sight that met her eyes. Amay sat at the edge of his bed, bare chested and in boxers, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared sightlessly at the wall in front of him.

He turned slowly to look at her, his eyes desolate in a way that tore a new rip through her already shredded heart. Had she done that? Was she the reason for the bleakness that hung around him like a shroud?

“Amay?” Her tentative whisper had him snapping out of whatever had him in its grip. He got to his feet, all those beautiful muscles flexing for her in a symphony that made her swallow hard.

“Did you need something?” he asked, his gaze sharpening as he took in her dishevelled state. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No. I just-“ She held her phone up in midair like she was presenting evidence. “I got a call from Varun’s father. They’re having a puja for his soul tomorrow.”

Amay’s eyebrows winged up. “Not sure the devil listens to prayers,” he murmured.

Dhrithi snorted, a strangled laugh escaping her. “Tomorrow, Amay. They want me to be present wearing a widow’s get up. The whole white saree, no makeup, no jewellery deal.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he listened to her. “You don’t have to go.”

“Oh, but I want to go.”

Amay stilled, something that looked a lot like resignation flitting across his face. “Of course,” he said tiredly, wiping a hand across his face. “Of course you do. He was your husband, after all.”

“No. No! Listen to me idiot.” Dhrithi marched over to cup his face with her palms and to turn it to face her. “The police are meant to be searching that house tomorrow. They’re going to be having this puja in the middle of it and they’ve demanded my presence as the grieving widow there. Think for a moment. Why would they want me there now when they haven’t wanted me near any of Varun’s last rites? Why do they want to have it inthathouse and not at their own?”

She saw his brain put it together, the pieces of the jigsaw slotting themselves together. “They knew what he was up to,” he muttered.

“They did,” she confirmed. “I’m the sympathy vote they’re hoping to play. And me being there tells the cops that I didn’t believe Varun was trying to murder me.”

“Which you don’t,” he pointed out.

“He would have killed me,” she said matter of factly. “One day or the other, intentionally or otherwise he would have. I just don’t believe he meant to do so that day.”

A shudder ripped through him, and he reached for her, pulling her close. She went willingly, her face resting against the warm wall of muscle. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Don’t,” he said huskily. “Don’t go there, even in your head.”

“It would have been a relief,” she confessed. “I would have preferred it to living with him. I just didn’t have the guts to do it myself. I thought about it though…several times.”

“Never again,” Amay said hoarsely, his arms tightening around her. “You’re never going down that road again.”

“No,” she nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “I’m not.” She planted a soft kiss to his pectoral. “I won’t. I promise. But I am going to the puja tomorrow.” She tilted her head back and met his eyes. “I’m going to be there, in place and ready, for when the police arrive. My in-laws think they’ve scripted my presence to suit their purpose. I think we should show them otherwise.”

A slow smile split his face as he looked down at her. “What in the world are you planning, Trouble?”

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