Page 69 of Born in Grief

Chapter Forty

AMAY

Grief and rage thrummed in his blood as he made his way back to his office, hoping for a few moments of peace. It never ended. Every time he thought he’d shoved the past back where it belonged, it blew up in his face. His father who’d gotten away with everything he’d done, Varun, another asshole, who’d gotten away with his sins by dying before Amay could murder him, Dhrithi who’d broken his heart and apparently still held it in the palm of her hand…

He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. He was being a dick. He knew it but he couldn’t stop it. The overwhelm from everything that had happened today was hitting him, a wave of emotion that was swamping him and taking him down.

He shoved the door to his cabin open and came to a sudden stop.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The words came out resigned. He was too tired to fight anymore.

Ishaan raised his annoying eyebrow at him. It really was incredible how much emotion that eyebrow had conveyed over the decade or so Amay had known him.

“I’m here to see my bestie.” Ishaan leaned back in Amay’s chair, his hands clasped behind his head.

“Is there no security in this hospital?” Amay barked, marching in and shoving Ishaan out of his chair.

“No security that can keep me out,” Ishaan retorted, getting out of the chair while rubbing his shoulder where Amay had pushed him. “You’ve been working out or something?”

Amay ignored him, burying his head in his hands. “I have work to do, Ish. Get out.”

There was a beat of silence before Ishaan said, “She’s alright, you know. There was a lot of shouting, a lot of drama, a lot of tears, but Goody is fine. She did great, in fact. Virat was saying-“

“I don’t care.”

Ishaan’s jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed as he watched his friend. “Youdon’t care? Since when? You care about everything. Climate change, the bureaucracy around medical trials, the litter on Mumbai’s streets, the lack of clean drinking water for the poor…I mean the list is endless. And if there is one thing you have always cared about, it is Goody.”

“Stop calling her that,” Amay muttered.

“Why? What difference does it make what I call her? You don’t care, right?”

“She’s not a fucking goody two shoes!!” Amay’s roar startled them both.

Ishaan’s eyebrows winged up to his hairline, his face the very definition of looking goggle eyed.

“I told her about my mother.”

Ishaan stilled, his body going rigid as the import of those words locked into place. He sat down in the chair across from Amay, his elbows resting on his knees and he leaned forward and focused on his friend.

“She told Varun?” The quiet question had Amay’s fight going out of him. He looked up, his eyes meeting his friend’s.

“In a sense.”

“What does that mean, Ams? It’s a yes or no kind of question.”

“She wrote it down in a diary or journal or something and Varun found it.”

“Ah.” Ishaan’s eyes softened. “He used it, of course.”

“Hmm. Those guys used everything.”

Ishaan hummed, a soft sound beneath his breath. “It’s going to blow up. Today was just the match that lit the wick of the bomb.”

“Do bombs have wicks?” Amay asked, the pressure around his chest easing slightly.

Ishaan’s eyebrow did its little up and down thing. “I don’t know Ams. You’re the brain trust in this group.”

“Really?” Amay drawled. “Aren’t you the scholarship student?”

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