Page 40 of The Circle of Exile
“None of your business.”
“If it is my wife, then it is my business.”
“You are an Indian.”
“So is she.”
“She is my sister.”
“Ten minutes ago she was your father’s daughter.”
“Enough,” Iram whispered, soft but firm enough for the two men to stall and glance her way.
“I have nothing to hide from my husband,” she announced, looking at Faiz.
“This matter is ours. It does not concern him, and you will not involve him.”
“If it is my Jammu model that you have replicated here then she damn well will.”
Iram’s head whirled so fast she felt the world blur in her sight.
“You haven’t even heard all of it yet,” she muttered to the back of Atharva’s head.
“I recognise my own model when I see it.”
For the first time in a long, long time, she felt a thrill pass through her spine, then spread through her arms and shoulders. Not a bad one, a relatively exciting one. The way he said that to her, the way he claimed his model, the way he claimedherin that moment made something inside her heart flutter. There was a throb of adoration in his voice.
“What model?”
Faiz’s question jolted her out of that temporary happy haze.
“Atharva’s Jammu model,” she cleared her throat. “I built the banking idea for you from Atharva’s model that he had implemented in Jammu, to help the bonded farmers there. Atharva had to make investments in land, and he decided to buy farmland. The bonded farmers on those lands were too scared to take loans and buy the land that they had been tilling for years, so Atharva created a model where he would let the farmers buy the land from him on EMI. Until that point, he continued to share the profits every year with them, took care of them.”
“And you didn’t mind betraying your husband’s project?”
Iram smiled — “It’s a case study in business schools and has been replicated over and over again by his government, not to mention central and state stakeholders across India.”
“Give me that document you wrote.”
“No such document exists.”
“You came with a bunch of papers in your hand that day…”
“Gul’s test sheets.”
Faiz’s eyes bugged. Atharva’s face turned over his shoulder, looking at her with one of his most recurrent expressions for her — like he wanted to strangle her and kiss her, and not necessarily in that order. That little thrill up her spine? Now it was a full-fledged fire. She hadn’t felt like this, like herself in a long time.
“I know I traded the idea and that document with you in exchange for visas and passports for Rahim Chacha and me. I will not go back on my promise…”
“Go,” Faiz waved a hand, chuckling. “I will manage. Go.”
“Do we have an opening for flying out tonight?” Atharva asked him.
“Yes. 3.30 to 4.55 am. Will you file your VFR plan?”
“No.”
“ATC logs will remain blank but the ADS of your plane will need to be disabled for that. Are you willing to fly across the border radars without it?”
