Page 80 of Born in Grief

“And what is your worth?” Amay couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“All of your immense fortune, Aatre, and not a rupee less.”

They heard the door open behind them and turned to see Virat stalk in. He’d been out the whole day talking to people about Varun Gokhale’s case.

“They found nothing,” he said tersely. “Anywhere.”

Ishaan whistled disbelievingly, the sound low and musical. “Either those dumbfucks are innocent which I highly doubt, or they got smarter, which I doubt even more. Smarter would require them to be smart in the first place.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Amay murmured. “This way they’ll close the case and Dhrithi can get on with her life.”

“Her life without you,” Ishaan added helpfully. Amay glared at him.

Virat stepped out onto the balcony, resting one shoulder against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “It doesn’t sit right,” he said, ignoring their little by play.

“Your team hasn’t found anything either.” Amay pointed out.

Virat’s withering glare would have incinerated lesser mortals. But Amay had survived that glare more times than he could count.

“We’re still looking,” Virat gritted out finally.

“Maybe you should stop. Maybe it’s time for us to let this go.”

“Why Ams? Because you found the resolution you want in the way Dhrithi looks at you?”

Ishaan glanced warily from Amay to Virat. “Guys,” he said, as he stepped uneasily into the new and strange-to-him role of peacemaker. Troublemaker was a custom made coat he wore, one that normally fit him to perfection. This one on the other hand didn’t fit at all. “Let’s not devolve.”

“Shut up Ish.” It was said at the same time, identical, pissed off tones hissing out of two separate mouths.

“Well, alright then,” he muttered, getting equally pissed off. “Be dicks to each other. What do I care?”

“God forbid you actually care enough about something to take it seriously,” Virat rounded on him.

“And you,” he turned next to Amay. “Try and care a little less, would you?”

And on that furious note, Virat, their calm and steady friend, turned on his heel and stormed out leaving the other two gaping at him. A second later, the front door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through Amay’s hall.

“Um, what just happened?” Ishaan asked, exchanging a comically startled look with Amay who shrugged, his worried gaze on the door.

“We should probably go check on him,” he said starting for the front door, Ishaan trailing behind him.

“Or we could let him cool off?” Ishaan asked, with a hopeful tinge to his voice. “You know what Virat’s temper is like. He’slike one of those dormant volcanoes who when they begin to spew, they take entire countries down with them.”

Amay punched the button for the elevator. “Doesn’t matter. If he takes us down, then we go down with him. It isn’t even a choice.”

“Alright Mr. Sanctimonious.” Ishaan stepped into the elevator the minute the doors opened. “I was just suggesting we give him some space.”

The doors opened on the tenth floor and Amay strode out, ignoring his muttering friend who trudged along beside him, reluctantly. He punched in the code to Virat’s front door and entered without waiting for an invitation. They found Virat sitting in the middle of his drawing room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared into the golden brown liquid, ignoring their rather dramatic entry into his home.

“Day drinking, are we?” Ishaan asked, forcing cheer into his voice. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

Virat didn’t look up or bother to answer.

“Hey.” Amay sat down on the center table in front of Virat. He nudged Virat’s foot with the tip of his shoe to get his attention. “Talk to us.”

“They win,” Virat said. “Again. And it makes me want to fucking burn down their world.”

“Let’s do it then,” Ishaan cheered, forever ready to rabble rouse.

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