Page 66 of Born in Grief

“Amay!”

The familiar voice, one from his nightmares, had his blood chilling. His feet slowed, almost without volition, as he turned to face his father.

“Looking good Son.” Rakesh Aatre walked forward, arms outstretched, a large, beaming smile on his face. He looked good. His tailor-made suit fit his muscled toned body, his salt and pepper hair framing a face that had aged well.

Amay took a step back, horror suffusing him. What was his father doing here? And did he honestly think that he could just walk back into his life and hug him?

“Sir,” he said stiffly, his arms at his side. “Are you unwell?”

Why did he care? Did it actually matter to him if his father was well or not? Why did he have to ask such an asinine question?

And yet, this man standing in front of him was the only blood relative Amay had in this world. Family. This was all he had to show for it.

“Just a regular checkup. We do an annual master health check up every year.” His father’s smile had dimmed in wattage.

We.

The other half of the ‘we’ appeared a second later.

“Amay!” The sweet, cloying voice, the perfume that reeked of roses, the chiffon saree, all of it slammed him right back to his childhood. “How nice to see you.”

“Ma’am,” he said, his mask sliding into place. His stepmother made the ones in the fairy tales look maternal.

“Rakesh jaan. We need to go. It’s time for our blood tests.” She wrapped a hand around his father’s biceps and tugged, her cold glare telling Amay to stay away. He had no intention of doing otherwise, he wanted to assure her.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said now. “I have a patient waiting.” He took another few steps towards the elevator when his father called his name again. He stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Amay, I want you to come for dinner soon. There are some papers that need to be signed.”

Of course. There were always papers that needed to be signed. Whether his father liked it or not, Amay was his sole heir. It hadn’t been from lack of trying, he thought with a mirthlesssmile. But his stepmother had been unable to provide the string of spares they’d been banking on.

He didn’t bother responding as he punched the button from the elevator, waiting for it to arrive.

“Don’t bring the Gokhale girl with you when you come.”

Amay froze, ice sliding through his veins.

“Excuse me?” He turned slowly to face his father who had that familiar sneer on his face.

So, that’s why the master health checkup had to be done here. His father had to know Amay wouldn’t have taken his calls or answered his summons otherwise. The only place his father could bank on Amay not misbehaving was at his workplace.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know what goes on in your life?” Rakesh Aatre stepped closer. “Be careful son. You don’t know the shit you’re stepping in. No pussy is worth it.”

Rage thundered through him but nothing showed on his face as he met his father’s gaze. He took a step forward too, his face aligning with one that mirrored his, age adding its own patina but still holding a resemblance that made him want to turn away in disgust. The elevator doors dinged open behind him, but he ignored it.

“Are you sure, Sir?” he asked softly, his gaze moving over his father’s shoulder to where his stepmother stood, her cold, vicious eyes on them. “Her pussy was worth murdering your wife for.”

Before his father’s mercurial temper could explode, he slammed a hand on the doors sliding shut behind him, holding it open.He held his father’s gaze a beat longer, letting him see the man he’d become, the one he couldn’t browbeat anymore.

“Send the papers to my home. I’ll have my lawyers vet it, sign and courier it back. Don’t come by my hospital again,” he warned. “Either of you.”

He stepped into the elevators, his back hitting the far wall of it. He didn’t look away from his father, letting him see his hate, grief and fury until the doors finally slid shut, cutting off his line of sight.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

DHRITHI

Dhrithi scanned the busy hospital corridors looking for the boards that would lead her to the right floor. She’d finally managed to escape the theatrics of what was going down at the Gokhale residence, with some help from Virat. And she’d come straight to the hospital for her checkup.

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