Page 12 of Born in Sin

“Ugh, please Cara. Stop kissing that animal. Go wash your face.”

Cara winked at Amigo and kissed him again, on his snout this time. Amigo licked her back enthusiastically, making her laugh.

“I will wash my face,” she told her mother. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” Her mother was immediately suspicious.

“I have a story narration for a new project,” Cara improvised, heading to her room to dress, Amigo padding after her.

She was ready minutes later, the skinny jeans and oversized cashmere sweater the most comfortable outfit she could find. She ran a brush through her hair, and decided to forgo makeup, allowing her skin to breathe.

She gave a forlorn Amigo one last kiss, whispered that she’d be back soon and left before her mother could waylay her again. Her bodyguard, Shiva, fell into step the minute she emerged from the house. He radioed her driver who had the car waiting, the air conditioning running. She slid into the car and gaveShiva the address and leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes and using every breathing technique under the sun to find her center. She still hadn’t found it an hour later, when the car pulled up to the apartment building, she’d directed it to.

She watched Shiva check the area, before opening the door for her to get out. She kept her head down as they walked quickly through the empty foyer, ignoring the shocked security guard who’d pocketed the hundred rupees Shiva had slipped him. They took the elevator up to the tenth floor in silence.

She’d always known where he lived, just like she also knew he was rarely home. Virat was as elusive as he was wanted by the world. She’d traced his incredible career with a sense of pride, misplaced though it was. Virat wasn’t successful because of her. He was successful despite her. She got off on the tenth floor, her courage momentarily failing her. Shiva walked behind her, a silent presence.

“I want some privacy,” she told him now.

He nodded. “I’ll wait by the elevator,” he replied. He could see both the stairwell and the elevator bank from that vantage point. She watched him take up position, her heart rioting in her chest.

Cara took another deep breath and stepped forward to press the doorbell. She heard the chimes echo in the space behind the door, her own heart thundering in unison with it. Steady footsteps approached on the other side of the door, and it was swung open. Storm grey eyes met her wary, chocolate brown ones. They stared at each other for a long second before Virat stepped aside and she entered his home for the first time.

Crestwood

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m annoying?” Celina slapped her hand on her chest dramatically. “You are the pest in this friendship.”

“Friendship.” Virat snorted. “We’re not friends. You’re like a tick I can’t get rid of.”

“If I’m the tick, then you’re the dog I’m stuck to,” she retorted, her grin blinding in the dark, cold, winter’s night.

“So original, Fernandez!” He rolled his eyes at her, but his lips twitched. They were walking around the school grounds, keeping to the wall that went around the perimeter. In the distance, where the football field was located, they heard an aggrieved shout go up. In silent accord, they turned away from the noise and towards a quieter corner of the ground.

“So, what plans for the winter break?” she asked now, shivering a little as she pulled the flaps of her jacket closer.

Virat thought about the house he’d go back to. Not the one his father lived in with his wife and children, but his father’s manager’s house. A house where he was tolerated as the boss’s son. It was still better than the house, his father’s house, he was despised in.

“Nothing much,” he said now when he realised Celina was still waiting for a response.

“No vacation? No Christmas plans?” Celina was chattering away, her exuberance spilling out of her.

“No.”

“My dad is going to come back from Dubai for Christmas,” she said now, a big smile on her face. She clasped her hands in front of her face. “We’ll be together again as a family. I love it when Dad’s home.”

Virat didn’t think her mom loved it when her dad was home. If Mrs. Fernandez did, she wouldn’t be doing what she did on campus. But he couldn’t say that to Celina. He couldn’t be the reason she stopped glowing like a lit bulb.

For now, all he made was a noncommittal noise.

“Would you like to come to my house for Christmas?” she asked artlessly. “My mother makes the best Christmas cake.”

Maria Fernandez would choke on her Christmas cake if Virat Jha showed up at her house for Christmas.

“Thank you but I won’t be able to. I’ll have to spend time with my family,” he lied smoothly.

“Two and a half years we’ve been friends now, and you still lie to me?” she asked, coming to an abrupt halt, her delicateprofile turned away from him, the dimming light of dusk gilding her perfect features.

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