Chapter 30

—Friday, February 4, 2022, 9:10AM—

Aryan shut the cabin door and fought the urge to dance for the first time in years, but when he sat down, and dialed the legal team, his thoughts went to all the possible ways this could go wrong. At the center of all of it was Imlie. He’d been taking glances at her throughout, and it was clear she was concerned for Aditya.

‘Of course she’s concerned for him, gaddhi toh hai,’ Aryan thought, ‘No matter how many times she gets hurt, she’ll keep going back to the people that hurt her.’ He stole a glance at her from his office window. She was just sitting at her desk, it looked like she was working. Aryan knew she wasn’t going to sit still for long.

The legal team picked up, and Aryan got to work on the second step: getting Khanna to focus all his ire on Aditya Kumar Tripathi instead of Bhaskar Times. After twenty minutes, Aryan confirmed what he already knew from the legal team. He’d already researched similar suits to Khanna’s going back the past few years in India and a few critical cases in the UK for good measure. He’d done more accurate calculations than the legal team on what the possible settlement Khanna would ask for, and Aryan gamed out a strategy to talk him down from that number. The lower Khanna took from him, the angrier Khanna would get, and all that anger would be directed at Aditya. He added Surinder to the call and had him draft a retraction from Bhaskar Times, one that was barely subtle in its rejection of the “methods and viewpoints of Senior Journalist, Aditya Kumar Tripathi.” Aryan finally got off the call and sighed, leaning back in his chair. He pulled out a battered leather file from the top drawer in his desk, and lay it open on his desk. In it was a clipping of every hit piece Aditya had written against Jiju, the emails and transcripts of phone calls Arvind had left — detailing the steps he’d been taking at the time to resolve the labor issue at the factory, and at the very back of the file, was a picture. Aryan was never a sentimental type, even before Arvind had died, but this photo, it was the one thing he looked at when he felt he was losing his memories of Arvind. It was a picture of the three of them, Jiju, Didi, and him. He and Jiju used to play in a cricket team with a few of his friends, and Didi always came to cheer the both of them on. Both of them were still in their team uniforms, and Didi was pretending to hit Aryan with a cricket bat, while Jiju is pulling Didi back and trying to grab onto the bat. Aryan loved this photo. Because it was the only photo he had with Jiju where he could tell that in that moment, Jiju cared more about him than Didi. Arvind did everything and anything for Didi, it was their marriage that Aryan thought about when he thought about what love should look like. But in this one photo, Aryan could think, completely selfishly, that Arvind was his brother first, his friend first, before he was Didi’s husband.

“I’m this close, Jiju, I’m so close.” Aryan said to the photo, wishing Arvind would reply.

The phone rang, and Aryan picked it up.

“Aryan Sir, Khanna’s legal team have served us the papers, they’re filing with the court tomorrow. I got on the phone with the head of Mahindra’s legal team, and we have a meeting tomorrow, I know it’s a Saturday, but you come to the office anyway, so does that work?”

“Yes that’s fine, I’ll be here anyway, send a copy of what their legal team sent you now.”

Aryan hung up the phone, and he looked over to Imlie’s desk, she wasn’t there.

He stood up and craned his neck to see if he could spot her somewhere else. He couldn’t see Aditya’s desk from here. He walked over to his door, contemplating whether or not to go look for Imlie. If he did, he’d have to have a valid reason to pull her from whatever she was doing. If he didn’t he’d be spending the rest of the day panicking about her instead of the work he actually had to do. He decided not to find her, after this morning in the car he didn’t trust himself to lie as well as he thought he’d be able to.

—Friday, February 4, 2022, 9:10AM—

Imlie could hear Aryan’s cabin door close. She wanted more than anything to barge into it and ask him if everything was going to be okay. Okay for the newspaper, for him, and for Aditya. But she knew he would misunderstand. Aryan, even though he had a family of his own he’d protect with his life, could never understand why Imlie did the same. Maybe it was because the Tripathis weren’t her real family, but they felt like her family, they were her family before Aditya was in her life, and they stayed her family after Aditya left her.

But even if she went in Aryan’s office now, to ask what was going on, that stubborn idiot would just tell her it was none of her concern and that she should go back to her work. Then there was the matter of Aryan acting odd, since last night. He’d told her today was an important day, which is why he did the aarti this morning. He’d told her last night that today would either be the end or beginning…but of what? And right now, that smirk. The Aryan Singh Rathore that Imlie knew, that she’d been able to figure out since she’d met him, would never have let another person talk to him or his employees like that. In fact, she knew from Aryan’s previous blowouts at Aditya, that today Aryan had let Aditya off too easy. If Aditya’s reporting was flawed, if Bhaskar Times did need to issue a retraction, any boss would have looked at it practically and fired Aditya on the spot, and Aryan was sometimes too practical and transactional. So why didn’t he?

There were too many questions, and she needed some answers. She looked over at Aditya’s desk. He was just sitting there. He wasn’t doing any work, no one else was talking to him. Imlie tried to figure out what she could do, and then an idea popped into her head. She wanted to never have to speak to Aditya again, but this was a good idea. She walked over to his desk, slowly. And then she tapped him on his shoulder.

He started and turned around, his shocked face replaced with a sneer in less than a second, “What? Come to gloat?” Aditya said.

Imlie took a deep breath, now was not the time to fight, “I just came to ask if you…well did you call Papa or Nishant Bhai for their help? They might know a lawyer? Or did you already find one. If you didn’t, I just met one recently, I don’t know if he works on cases like yours—”

Aditya chuckled, “Oh of course, you only meet with big shots these days, why would one of your amazing contacts take the case of a lowly reporter like me?”

Imlie finally lost her patience, “What is wrong with you? You are nothing like the Aditya Kumar Tripathi I used to know, at least not the journalist I used to know. The reporter I knew would be frantically trying to find out the truth of the story right now, no matter if it meant he’d made a mistake. The reporter I knew would not have yelled at his boss for no reason. And the reporter I know would be more worried about what this lawsuit could do to his family, instead of just sitting here.”

Aditya stood up and glared at Imlie, “Listen to me. I don’t need your help or your lectures, in fact, I never want it again. My family is my family, not yours. You made that perfectly clear when you decided not to forgive me. And you have less than a couple months experience in this job, and you want to tell me how to do it? Get away from me.”

Imlie had to work hard to fight back her tears, but she did it. “I don’t know what happened to you Aditya, but I hope you fix it soon, not for your sake, but for the family’s. And never, try to tell me that they are not my family again, you’ve seen what happens to people when they try that, just look at your precious wife.”

With that Imlie turned on her heel and walked back to her desk. But she didn’t sit down. She finally had the courage to go and talk to Aryan. Something was wrong. Something big. And it was clear that Aditya was going to do nothing to fix it, so she’d need to fix it herself. As she walked to Aryan’s office, she remembered her idea. She knew she hadn’t known Shiv for that long, but she felt she could trust him. She unlocked her phone and texted him.

Imlie: Hi Shiv, I know this is an odd request, but can I talk to you about what happens if a reporter is sued for a mistake in their reporting?

By the time Imlie had made it to Aryan’s door, she heard a ping on her phone, she checked it.

Shiv: Of course, what happened? Is it your reporting?

Imlie: It’s not my reporting, I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.

Shiv: Ok, sounds good. I can come by to the café near your office if you need.

Imlie knocked on Aryan’s door and walked in without waiting for an answer.

Aryan looked up from his monitor to see who’d come in. When he saw it was Imlie, he felt something he hadn’t expected today: nervousness.

“Usually you’re supposed to wait for someone to tell you to come in after you knock.” Aryan said, dryly. He knew full well Imlie wasn’t going to be in a joking mood, but he had to do whatever it took to keep himself from flowing off the handle in response.

Imlie sighed, “I know you’re dealing with a lot, but I…I know I don’t need an explanation, but I want one. What is going on? Is a retraction from the paper necessary? If it is, will that fix it?”

Aryan leaned back in his seat, taking the time to choose his words carefully, “From what I know about the documents Khanna’s legal team sent over, and the analysis our lawyers did already, yes, we need to publish a retraction.”

Imlie walked closer to his desk, pushing the chair in front of it aside, “But does that fix everything? What happens if this lawsuit goes through?”

Aryan rubbed his temples with both his fingers, “Imlie, I really don’t—”

“Don’t dodge the question, aaj main kisee bhi baat ko udhaar nahin lungi.” Imlie said, trying her best to keep her voice even. (Today I won’t take any words as a debt.)

Aryan looked at her, “Fine. I don’t know. The paper will probably be able to settle. But I don’t know how long that will take, and I don’t know what effect that will have on your precious Babu Saheb. That’s why you’re really here right? You don’t actually care about this paper or what a lawsuit can do to my reputation, not to mention the paper’s credibility?”

As soon as he said it he knew he’d gone too far. Imlie looked stricken.

“How dare you? How dare you constantly, over and over again, no matter what I do or say, assume that I am that weak? How is it that after weeks of seeing my life and how I live it, that you still don’t understand? I’ll explain it one more time, and after that, never again. Yes, I’m worried about the impact this lawsuit, this retraction, this whole mess will have on Aditya. But not because I’m still head over heels for him, not because I want to go back to him. Only because the Tripathis are my family. I saw them as a family ages before I ever cared about Aditya, and they are still my family now that I don’t care about Aditya. This could ruin their lives, this could affect Nishu Bhai and Papa’s jobs. I don’t know why you hate Aditya so much, but I know you don’t have a problem with the rest of my family. So don’t tell me you don’t know. I know you know how to fix this. You can fix everything. Just…fix it.” She was breathing hard now, hoping that Aryan would listen. It was just a mistake, bigger mistakes could be fixed, so why not this one?

Aryan stood up and walked around his desk, close to Imlie so that there was less than six inches between them. “Why should I do anything for the man that’s singlehandedly destroying this paper’s reputation? And let me remind you, I’m your boss, not your friend—”

Imlie got in Aryan’s face, “I know you’re not my friend. There’s no need to remind me. You’re my boss. So be the boss. Be the boss that put his life on the line to save his employees in Pagdandia. Be the boss that saw my potential, that pushed me harder than I’ve ever been pushed before. Be the boss that gave Aditya his job back despite everything. Be that boss. You know Aditya didn’t intentionally make a mistake in that piece. He must have missed something, or a source lied to him. You know he’s a good reporter.”

Aryan stepped back and couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. Imlie stared at him, dumfounded.

“Why…why are you laughing.” Imlie asked. ABPs emotions fluctuated so quickly it felt like whiplash.

Aryan stopped laughing and looked back at Imlie, “Sometimes I think you’re the smartest person, but most of the time, you turn out sillier than I could even imagine.”

Imlie glared at him, “I don’t know what you’re on about, but this isn’t the time to insult me right now, is it?”

Aryan sighed, “How much of Aditya’s reporting have you actually read, Imlie? Because this isn’t his first mistake. Remember the bullshit he wrote about you and I—”

Imlie interrupted him, “That was a lapse in judgment. Aditya’s worked on so many pieces that have changed lives. He’s been a reporter for ten years—”

Aryan sneered again, “Yea. He’s changed lives all right. But not for the better.”

“What are you talking about?” Imlie asked, actually afraid for the first time, she’d never been afraid standing near Aryan before. She’d been annoyed sure, angry, worried, sad, happy, bemused, but never, never afraid.

Aryan smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Don’t take my word for it, read it for yourself.” He grabbed the file off his desk and pulled out the clippings, spreading them out for her.

Imlie hesitated, her eyes still on Aryan. “Aryan, I’m not here to talk about the cost-benefit analysis of Aditya’s reporting and his past mistakes, everyone makes mistakes, I’m sure you have them listed out, but you can’t—”

Aryan grabbed both her arms and pulled her close, “Pehli baat, us aadmi ka vakaalat karna band karo. Doosri baat, logon anajaane mein galatee kar dete hain, lekin yeh galatee nahin tha, aur yeh anjaane mein nahin hua. Teesri baat, udhaar rahee, par zyaada vaqt ke liye nahin. Ab yeh padho. Abhi.” (First point, stop defendign that man. Second point, people make mistakes unintentionally, but this wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t unintentional. Third point, I owe it to you, but not for much longer. Now read this. Now.)

Aryan let go of Imlie and slammed his hand on the desk. Imlie jumped and looked at the papers Aryan had spread out for her. It didn’t take long for her to realize what Aryan had meant by ‘changing lives, but not for the better.’ She looked up at him again, suddenly realizing why Aryan seemed to hate Aditya from the minute they met at that underground fight club.

“Do you get it now? Why I’m not rushing to save this particular employee?” Aryan asked, crazily hoping she’d keep fighting understanding so he could vent.

“Aryan,” Imlie choked, “I see. I get that Aditya’s reporting hasn’t been perfect. But it was a mistake, he didn’t mean to…this isn’t the reason your jijaji died. That was an accident—“

“An accident?” Aryan’s voice was a deadly growl now, “There are no accidents, Imlie. There are no coincidences. There are no mistakes allowed when it comes to someone’s life! So no, I’m not going to save Aditya Kumar Tripathi.”

Imlie pleaded, “Aryan, listen to me. Aditya didn’t know when he wrote this that it would lead to—”

Aryan laughed again, a cold, derisive laugh, “He didn’t know? Your precious Babu Sahib has ten years of experience right? He doesn’t go ten seconds in this office without repeating that stupid factoid. When he wrote these, he only had five years under his belt, but he still should have had the sense to know his words had power. Everyone’s words have power, Imlie, even if you’re not a journalist. A person’s declaration of love has power over their lover. A mother’s scolding has power over her child. A politician’s speech has power over thousands. Your prayers…the blessings you ask for every day…even those have power, over your Sita Maiya. So don’t you dare tell me Aditya Kumar Tripathi didn’t know his power. He isn’t a god damn child, Imlie. When he wrote these,” Aryan slammed the desk with his hand again, “he was thirty years old. He’s thirty-five now, he knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote that report on Khanna. He knew it when he pitched it, he knew it when he researched it, when he submitted it, and when he defended it to me.”

Imlie took a breath, “I understand. I do. I understand you’re in pain, and seeing Aditya every day only brings that pain back,” she tried to touch his arm to comfort him, but Aryan pushed her hand away, “but, that doesn’t change the fact that this time you don’t actually know if Aditya willfully ignored something in his research. You don’t know he was lacking in his work—“

Aryan put up a hand, “Enough. I know enough. I know.”

Imlie wiped the stray tears that had stricken her face as she’d listened to Aryan laying bare his anger and pain for the first time, “What do you—”

Just then Aryan’s office door swung open and Dev walked in.

“What the hell Aryan?!” Dev walked up to Aryan, not noticing Imlie as she stepped back in shock. He grabbed Aryan’s collar, “Are you an idiot? Why the hell did you let that piece get published? Do you know what this could do to Radhika’s case?”

Imlie’s head, already hurting, throbbed in confusion. What did Radhika have to do with Aditya’s report? With Khanna? What case? She wanted to ask, but she was unable to get a word in.

Aryan pulled Dev’s hands off his jacket, “What are you talking about?”

Imlie stared at Aryan now, his face was blank, but Imlie could see a concern in his eyes.

Dev pulled today’s Bhaskar Times from his bag and slammed it on the table, “The article on Khanna. You know Radhika is considering filing suit against him. You know she’s thinking about going to the press. Who’s going to believe her now? I told you all this accounting stuff was nonsense. I told you it was an internal power struggle.”

Imlie felt like the ground had just fallen out from under her. She was falling but she had to stand still, she had to stand here and listen to this. Her eyes didn’t move from Aryan, she expected a denial from him that never came.

Aryan didn’t look at Imlie, he knew she’d figured it out, but he didn’t care right now, “It won’t matter as long as we publish a retraction tomorrow. Radhika can still file her suit, she can still give her interview—“

Dev interrupted Aryan, “Are you the same person I went to college with? How can you not understand something so simple? If she sues now it will look like she’s being opportunistic. She can’t give an interview to the Bhaskar Times now, it will look even worse. Hell, even if she goes to a TV outlet or another paper it will still look like she’s lying, because Khanna will make it look like that. He will connect these two things even though they’re not connected. Do you know how scared Radhika is right now? I had to reassure her that Khanna definitely knows she’s not one of the sources, because she knew all about how Khanna toed the line but never crossed it in his business. But it doesn’t matter, she’s sure Khanna will take out his anger over this on her.”

Aryan tried to calm Dev down, “Listen to me. I already was going to offer Radhika enough money for her medical expenses before this. I can even find her a different job, far away from here. She has nothing to worry about.”

Dev looked like he could hit Aryan, “Money? A job? You really are a goddamn robot now, aren’t you? What happened to you man? Did you not listen to Radhika in Chitra’s office? She doesn’t give a damn about the money, she doesn’t care about anything, all she wanted were two things: an apology and to never have to see Khanna’s face again. You’ve made the first impossible, and who knows about the second. Come on, man. You know what it takes for a woman to talk about this stuff, to report it, to try to escape it? How could you play with someone’s life like that?”

Aryan looked down at his shoes, and then he clenched his fists, his voice was even, “Dev, I still think we can salvage this. Nothing is wrong. Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

Dev looked at him, his rage shifting to sympathy, “I should have stopped you.”

Aryan looked taken aback, “Stopped what?”

Dev continued, softly, “You’re not the only smart person, you know. I figured it out when you bought this paper. I should have said something to Arpita then, or Narmada Aunty. But I thought you’d gotten over it. Then I saw his demotion from the front page, and I thought, ‘Ok, he’s done now.’ You kept talking about this reporter you were mentoring, I saw you change a little, I saw a little bit of my old friend back.”

Aryan looked at Imlie, silently willing Dev to shut up, but the damage had been done. Imlie was crying, silently, her eyes looking elsewhere, clearly not wanting to meet his gaze. He looked back at Dev, his eyes pleading Dev to stop, but Dev didn’t notice.

“Then I saw the byline of the article. It didn’t take rocket science to put two and two together. But on my way here, I kept trying to deny it. To assure myself that my friend wouldn’t play with an innocent person’s life just to get revenge.”

Aryan stopped Dev, “Enough. You don’t get to judge me. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

Dev stepped close and put his hand on Aryan’s shoulder, no longer just angry but clearly concerned, “That’s not true. I saw it. I saw what you, what Arpita, what Aunty, went through. I was there every day. I’ve lost people in my life too, people who died too early. Everyone loses people, we don’t all go out on revenge missions.”

Aryan swatted Dev’s hand away, “Enough. You said what you had to say. Enough. I said I’ll fix the situation with Radhika, nothing will happen to her.”

Dev’s nostrils flared again, “You can’t control everything, Aryan. And you shouldn’t have tried to. I don’t know if this will actually hurt Mr. Tripathi in the end, but I know one thing for sure now, you’re going to be the first person to burn in this fire, Aryan. Your revenge will burn you and everything you care about if you don’t put it out. Let it go.”

Dev turned to leave, and his eyes fell on Imlie. Imlie looked at him. She was both furious at Dev for not stopping Aryan, but she felt a kinship with him in that moment. They both were worried about the same person right then — their friend.