Page 84 of Born in Grief

He turned around and waited. He heard her hurried footsteps and then the front door was thrown open. And there she was, in loose grey tracks and a black tank top, a white shirt pulled over it, the buttons left open. Her hair was loose, her phone still pressed to her ear with one hand and some paper clutched in the other. Wide eyed, she stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“I was already coming to you,” he said, disconnecting the still open phone line.

She threw herself into his arms on a strangled sob, her phone falling to the ground in a loud clatter. His arms went around her as he staggered back a step, holding on tight. He was never letting her go again. He kissed her temple, pulling back slightly and kissing her lips, allowing himself to sink into the taste of her, the taste of home, of love, of all his hopes and dreams coalesced into one person.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hand going to slide through his hair, clenching and tugging him closer, impossibly closer. A soft moan escaped her as they broke apart. Her breath escaped her in short, harsh gasps. Amay pulled her back into his embrace, kissing her forehead and cradling her against his chest.

“You wanted to talk to me about something?” he reminded her before they lost complete control of the situation.

He felt her drop a kiss against his shirt before stepping back. “I found this on the floor of the walk-in closet in the master bedroom.”

He took the photograph she was holding out to him. Shock and disbelief morphed into rage, a tidal wave of it that shook his belief in humanity.

“What-“

“I know. It took me a moment too. I don’t recognise her, do you?”

He shook his head. He definitely didn’t recognise the naked girl who was blindfolded and tied spread eagled on what looked like a large dining table. She had a dildo stuck in her mouth and all around her, in varying stages of undress, were men. About seven of them. There were no faces visible as all the men wore masks obscuring their faces. Exaggerated black eye masks that covered the upper half of their faces. Except…

“Is that Naveen?” he asked, pointing to a guy standing close to the table, his hand on the poor woman’s breast.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not familiar with how he looks naked,” she muttered, her anger and revulsion shining through.

“It might be.” But it might also not be. There wasn’t much in this picture other than evidence of a gangbang.

He dug his phone out again and dialed Virat. “You guys need to get to Dhrithi’s house. There’s something you need to see.”

Virat didn’t waste time asking questions and the line went dead a second later.

Amay took a deep breath and looked down at Dhrithi who still had her arms around his waist and was leaning into him. In that moment, despite the grime he felt layering into his skin from holding that photograph, Amay felt like his world finally made sense.

“Aren’t you going to invite me into your Bhoot Bangla, Dhriths?”

She grimaced, looking at the house over her shoulder. “It sure as hell houses enough ghosts.” She looked at the picture in his hand and shuddered before taking his hand and tugging him along, “Come in.”

He followed her into the double height, grand foyer which led into what looked like the formal living room. His entire flat would have probably fit in it, especially since it was devoid of furniture beyond a single recliner.

“Did you get robbed?” he asked her. “I noticed your security guard wasn’t at his post either.”

“I sold most of it,” she said artlessly. “And I fired the security personnel.”

“Why?” Something in his heart told him he wouldn’t like her answer, but he asked the question anyway.

“I don’t need people who helped him hurt me around me when I’m healing.”

His heart hurt at her words and at the sadness that underlaid her pained resolve.

“Dhrithi,” he said softly, wanting to pull her away from the mental abyss she stared into.

“Yes?”

“Ask me again.”

Confused she glanced at him. “Ask you what?”

“Have you ever wondered…” His voice trailed off.

Memory slammed through her, vulnerability a cloak that followed.

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