Page 93 of Made in Mumbai

Gautam got to his feet, his knuckles throbbing. He secured the papers safely in his jacket pocket and left the house.

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He tried to be as noiseless as possible as he turned the key in his door. It was still early and Maya had cried enough last night to sleep late. He stepped inside and froze. She was crying again, sitting on the sofa, her mobile pressed to her forehead. He rushed to her.

“M?” He kneeled between her legs. “What’s wrong?”

Teary eyes rose to his, her hair in a disarray. She seemed to have just woken up, the bedding in a mess around her. He pushed her hair behind her ear, running his palm over her shoulder.

“M?”

“You did this for me?”

He frowned. Then his gaze switched to her mobile. It was still unlocked, the call log open to the last call details. Hem Sanghvi.

“He called you?” Gautam raged. “That coward…’

“He called to ask if I had hired goons,” Maya chuckled. “Seriously though, if I had hired goons I would hire somebody a lot more macho, and muscled. Maybe you should go to the gym more than the weekends…” she eyed his shoulders, “and look a little…” she circled a finger over his face. “Less pretty.”

Gautam laughed, sitting up beside her and pulling the papers out. “I did this without your consent and you have every right to fight with me on this. But I do not want MM to have any legal ties to him. Ever. He cannot have any control over you or MM in the future.”

She accepted the papers and read through them. Her eyes watered again, tears flowing down her cheeks, her nose, everywhere. He didn’t know someone could cry like this. Like a fountain.

“And M?”

“Hmm?” She was still crying, reading down the draft of relinquish of paternal rights.

“I have also drafted a restraining order against him on your behalf. Once you sign it, I will have my lawyer serve him.”

“He said you told him you have photos of me wounded?”

“I bluffed, he believed. Did you take such photos?”

She shook her head. “I was so shocked, I made sure to move away from him the first time. The second time I left his flat and never looked back.”

“He will never know if we have any photos or no,” he patted her hand.

“Thank you.”

He went to open his mouth when his phone buzzed. Sahyadri. He turned the ringer off.

“You can take it.”

“Not now. I will deal with her later. For the next five days, it’s just us.”

“Hmm?” She quirked her brow, rubbing tears from the corner of her eyes. “And what are we doing for the next five days? What do you usually do for Diwali?”

“Nothing big. I go to the gym daily because its empty in these days. I usually have a get-together with my oldest employees, some of whom are working elsewhere. Some years I travel to my mills or visit Kumar bhai in Amritsar.”

“And who does all the poojas in your own house?” She swept her arm around them.

“What poojas?”

“Laxmi poojan, Chopda poojan, all of that?”

He shrugged — “Nobody.”

“Then this yearwewill.”

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