Page 62 of Born in Grief

“You were always my best friend!” Ishaan proclaimed bounding across the room and smacking Virat on his back, almost sending the bag with the Chinese food flying.

“We’ll see how you feel the next time you have a cold and come to me honking like a goose,” Amay grumbled. “And Chinese food doesn’t qualify as eating clean!”

“Stuff it, Old Man.” Ishaan was already unpacking the food. “Want some Goody?” he asked Dhrithi who shook her head, a small smile playing on her face.

“I had the paneer earlier,” she said.

“Of course you did.” Ishaan groaned theatrically. “You’re as boring as your man.”

Your man.

The words landed like a rock and he saw Dhrithi start slightly as Ishaan uttered them. Her gaze fluttered to him, her pupils widening at whatever she saw in his face. She swallowed hard and looked away.

“So, what was the emergency summons about?” Ishaan asked around an obscene mouthful of noodles.

“The search at Varun’s home tomorrow,” Amay answered. “Dhrithi has a plan.”

And just like that the mood in the room sobered. With tacit consent, they settled down in the living room, Ishaan lugging the Chinese food with him as they went.

Dhrithi sat on a single chair, one leg crossed on the seat beneath the other. Amay chose to sit on the ground by her seat, his back resting against her leg. He watched both his friends clock the silent message behind his choice.

Virat held his gaze, his eyes searching for something in Amay’s. He clearly found whatever he wanted because he nodded. One simple, short nod of acceptance.

Ishaan swallowed his food and sighed. “Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.” Then he smiled, a shark to the end. “Welcome Goody. This idiot is your problem now.”

“What’s the plan?” Virat asked quietly, leaning back in his chair.

Amay noted the lines of strain on his friend’s face. He knew what etched them there and he also knew there was no point in asking after it. Virat guarded everyone’s secrets. His own? They were in a vault at the bottom of a ravine with a fire breathing dragon standing guard over it.

Dhrithi leaned forward, her hand brushing the back of Amay’s neck, an unconscious gesture of comfort. “Varun’s father has requested my presence at a puja for Varun’s soul.”

“The Devil hears prayers?” Ishaan asked.

Amay grinned. “Same thought, Bro.”

Dhrithi rolled her eyes at them. “It’s tomorrow at Varun’s old home.”

“Tomorrow?” Virat’s eyes sharpened as he leaned forward in the chair.

“Interesting timing,” Ishaan murmured, his food temporarily forgotten. “Aren’t these the same people who banned you from his funeral?”

“Not explicitly but yes,” Dhrithi answered. “They had it while I was still in hospital and didn’t allow my family to attend in my stead.”

“But they want her now.” Amay felt Dhrithi’s hand on the nape of his neck, tightening, an unconscious tell of the strain she kept hidden for the most part.

“They want the grieving widow in place when the police arrive,” Dhrithi corrected, her nails digging into Amay’s skin now.

“Well fuck them.” Ishaan dug into his noodles with renewed aggression.

“Yeah,” Dhrithi agreed. “Fuck them.”

“Cheers!” Ishaan held up a beer he’d produced from somewhere. His ingenuity knew no bounds. “Good you’re not going.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going.”

Ishaan’s beer stopped halfway to his lips. “Say that again.”

“I’ll be there.”

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