Page 64 of Born in Grief

“Dhrithi.”

Varun’s mother stood on the front porch, glaring at her. She gestured her forward with an angry hand.

Dhrithi smiled, her beaming smile clearly startling the other woman. “I’ve got to go,” she told Amay. “But after this is done, we’ll talk?”

“We’ll talk.”

The two words warmed her as she slipped the phone back into her handbag and walked past the older woman into her own personal house of horrors.

“Stop smiling,” Varun’s mother hissed at her.

“Yes, Ma.” She kept her head dutifully bowed as she stepped in, wiping the smirk off her lips. She took her place in front of the havan, a row behind his parents. Varun’s father was already seated and didn’t even bother to acknowledge her presence. She looked around at the crowd that had gathered, spotting her parents in one corner. Her father smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Dhrithi ignored him, her gaze scanning the rest of the crowd and spotting the press who were carefully sprinkled through it.

The fire from the havan blazed as the pujari’s chants got louder. Finally, and only because she couldn’t avoid it any longer, Dhrithi allowed herself to look at the picture in front of the fire.

Varun was laughing, a carefree, happy grin, his eyes twinkling. He wore a custom fitted suit, one hand on his heart, like he was struggling to contain his happiness. A picture, they said, spoke a thousand words. But this one lied. It was the lie that had broken Dhrithi’s life. But no more.

In the distance, she heard the sirens. She watched her ex-father-in-law and saw his back stiffen. But outside of that no one reacted. Even as the sirens drew closer, no one in the room even twitched. Car doors slammed outside and inaudible shouts were exchanged before the front door opened.

She kept her head bowed, the dupatta shrouding her face as she waited for Varun’s father to stand and walk over to confront them.

“What is this about Inspector?” he asked, the consummate liar that he was ensuring that no emotion leaked into his voice.

“We have a warrant to search the premises.” Inspector Vikram matched him, stone face to stone face.

“Now? We are in the middle of a prayer for my beloved son’s soul. We have already lost everything and now, you want to take this from us too?”

Dhrithi almost rolled her eyes before she remembered she had to stay in character.

“Get up,” Varun’s mother hissed, dragging her to her feet with one arm. Dhrithi stumbled along behind her as they went to stand behind Varun’s father.

“My daughter-in-law still grieves for her husband and you wish to tear apart her home, the only home she’s ever shared with him?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s what I wish to do.” Inspector Vikram’s sardonic voice cut through his rhetoric. “This is a legal document, Sir. Please step out of the way.”

“Dhrithi.” Varun’s father’s fingers dug into her arm as he hauled her forward. “This is your house they are planning to defile. Your life they are going to rip apart. You’ve barely recovered from your unbearable loss, from your injuries, from everything that life has put you through and now this. Tell them. Tell them to leave.”

All around them whispers rose, a few discreet flashes telling her the whole scene was being recorded and not just by the press present. She knew what she had to do to get the sympathy vote the Gokhales were banking on.

She allowed her dupatta to slip off her head, straightening her bowed shoulders and meeting Inspector Vikram’s impenetrable gaze.

“Where would you like to start?” Her clear voice carried through the room, fanning the whispers in both volume and urgency.

“What?” Varun’s father looked at her for the first time since she’d entered, rage burning through his gaze.

“It is my house, like you said, Papa.” She smiled sweetly, dipping her hand into her purse for the massive bunch of keys she’d had for years. She held it out to Inspector Vikram. “This should open almost anything in the house. And this,” she dug out a piece of paper next. “is the list of codes for everything the keys don’t open.”

The officer nodded, a small smile playing on his lips now. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Anytime,” she said breezily, smiling wide, the fake grief a mantle she was happy to shrug off.

The cops filed past them, scattering the crowd as they went.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The furious whisper had her glancing at her in-laws. She smiled wider. “Didn’t you hear him? I’m being cooperative.”

“They won’t find anything,” Varun’s mother spat at her. “We already had everything important removed.”

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