Chapter 33

—Friday, February 4, 2022, 4:30PM—

Aryan checked his phone more today than he’d probably ever done in his life. He’d tried working, but his eyes kept flitting to his phone. The legal team called him shortly after Imlie had left his office: Khanna’s lawyers were willing to meet to discuss a settlement tomorrow. Aryan had made sure the initial offer was so low that it would frustrate Khanna further by the time he showed up tomorrow. He would have been lying if he hadn’t felt a twinge of guilt after the call had ended. Not because of the Tripathis, and definitely not because he was ready to forgive Aditya, but because Dev’s words and Imlie’s tears had been running non-stop in his brain. He still felt uneasy thinking about this morning.

He’d stopped himself maybe a dozen times from calling either Imlie. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to call Dev and ask about Radhika. He wasn’t worried about what Imlie was doing to try to fight the lawsuit, but he was worried about who’s help she’d take, and what the people she was helping would end up taking from her without Imlie even realizing it. It didn’t matter if she told Didi and Maa, he’d figure that out. But where would she find a lawyer stupid enough to take a case against Sunil Khanna? All the lawyers in Delhi knew who he was, at least those who had the skill to try to work against him. Hell, his lawyers and Bhaskar Times’ lawyers were only putting up with this lawsuit because he paid them well enough that they didn’t care about status or elbow rubbing.

He picked up his phone again, his finger hovering over the GPS tracker application. He still had Imlie’s phone’s location. Before he could press it, his phone started ringing. In the hopes that it was Imlie he almost dropped the phone, but it wasn’t her, it was Maa.

“Maa?” Aryan answered the phone, fully aware of the scolding he was about to receive.

“Don’t Aryan.” Narmada said, she was angrier than she’d ever been at her son, and even more worried about him than she’d ever been.

“Maa, I know you’re angry—“ Aryan knew Maa wouldn’t understand him, but al he really cared about was whether Imlie was there or not. What if, in her anger, she’d not only told Maa and Didi everything, but decided she didn’t want to stay in their house anymore? What if she’d gone back to the Tripathis? What if Maa was this angry not just because of what he’d planned but because Imlie had wasn’t there?

“Aru, abhi ke abhi ghar aao. Now.” Narmada said. (Aru, come home right now.)

Aru wanted to fight, but he hadn’t heard his mother this angry before, and he could tell she had been crying.

“I’m coming.” Aryan said.

Narmada hung up the phone.

Aryan pulled up outside home and walked in, readying himself for the interrogation, for the accusations, for the argument. No one was in the main hallway, so he went to the living room. There were Maa and Didi, waiting for him.

Aryan walked towards them, and started to speak, but Maa interrupted him.

“Aru, tell me one thing, who am I?” Narmada asked.

Arpita refused to meet Aryan’s gaze, her eyes were full of tears.

“Maa? What—“ Aryan said.

“Yes. That’s right. I’m your mother. I gave birth to you, I went through hours of labor because your head was just so damn big. And today I have to hear this?” Narmada’s voice broke but she pushed forward.

“I don’t know what Imlie told you, but I didn’t do anything—“ Aryan said. He was growing tired of explaining himself.

“You didn’t do anything?!” Arpita stood up, interrupting him and finally meeting his eyes, “You didn’t do anything? Imlie told us everything, Aryan. Everything you said, everything Dev said, every, single, thing.”

“Didi—“ Aryan started.

Arpita stopped him with her hand, “If you go through with this Aru, I won’t be your sister anymore.”

“You’re emotionally blackmailing me? Me? Fine!” Aryan shouted, “Fine. I did push Aditya Kumar Tripathi to write that piece, I did frustrate him to the point that he would blow up at Khanna. I am making sure that Khanna doesn’t leave Aditya alone. But I didn’t ask Aditya to be a subpar reporter? I didn’t change his writing? I didn’t let him write an impossible article. And everything I did, I did because Aditya Kumar Tripathi is a the reason Jiju—“

Arpita grabbed Aryan’s collar, “No. You don’t get to say this is for Arvind. I knew Arvind, better than you. He would have given up everything, not just for me, but for you too. And he would never have wanted your life to turn out like this. He would have never wanted you to become so obsessed or so angry, Aru. He would have never wanted to see you compromise your principles, your values, your whole self — for something as small as revenge. Especially because you’re not just wrong in hurting Aditya, Aru. You’re going to hurt his whole family, which hurts Imlie. Not to mention that you could ruin a completely innocent woman’s life. This is what you learned from Arvind? This is what my husband taught you?”

Aryan looked at his sister, “Jiju taught me that there’s nothing more important than taking care of your family. And—“

Arpita shook her head, “No. No Aryan. This is not how you take care of a family. You don’t destroy another family, another person’s life, to take care of your family. What do you think? Look at me right now. Do I look happy now? Do I look like I’ve been taken care of? You’re hurting the one new friend I’ve made in four years, Imlie. You’re hurting the family of the one friend Maa has made in four years, Aparna aunty. Kya hum khush lag rahe hain?” (Do we look happy?)

Aryan’s spine tensed at the mention of Imlie. And then he looked at Didi again, seeing her tears for the first time, actually seeing her in pain. It was the same pain he saw in her eyes four years ago.

“Why are you quiet? And what? Did you marry Arvind? Did you vow to spend the next seven lifetimes with him? Were you with him every day, every moment, when he was happy and sad and frustrated and tired? No. I was his wife. So, of course, again, Imlie was right. You didn’t tell me, you didn’t tell Maa. You didn’t tell us when you bought the newspaper, you didn’t tell us when you met Aditya for the first time, you didn’t tell us anything. So why should we believe this is anything but selfish?”

Aryan clenched his fist, “Didi, I am not the selfish one. Aditya is the selfish one. He is the careless one. He didn’t care about the impact of his thoughts, his words, or his action. So, I’m not selfish here. Yeh sirf Aditya ki karmo ka sazaa hai. After tomorrow, everything will be over.” (This is just Aditya’s punishment for his deeds.)

Narmada spoke up now, “Aur tumhara karmo ka phal kya hoga?” (And what will be the fruits of your deeds?)

Aryan looked at his mother, “Maa—“

Narmada pleaded, “Aru, when Arvind died…I know how it hurt you. I know you lost faith in Devi Maa, because you blamed her for stealing your brother from you. But most of all, you felt like you’d lost control over everything in your life. You couldn’t save Arvind, so the world was pulled out from under you. And then,” Narmada’s voice broke, “then you took on such a big responsibility. You run the same business Arvind ran. You had to fill his shoes. You were forced to control so many things, every day, for years. So now all you do is control, Aru. You need to control. So that you never have to feel like you’re powerless, like we all felt that day. You control your emotions, you keep your pain, your happiness…your love, locked inside. Because if you feel anything, you’ll feel everything. You think it will all come flooding, and it will be too much for you to handle, beta. But I know you, I raised you. You can feel everything, we’re here to support you. And if you do, you’ll move on. I promise beta.” Narmada took a breath, wiping her tears away.

Aryan’s eyes were red, glassy. Everything rushed through his mind: that day, the funeral, Arpita’s grief, the last time Arvind smiled at him, and mixed in all this—was Imlie. Images of her crying, defending her emotions, defending her fear, loneliness, happiness, love, everything from her singing to the way she took off her shoes before coming in her bedroom. It was as if his brain was splitting in two: showing both the reasons for his pain and what he’d done to stuff it down and showing a way out.

But taking that step—accepting that Arvind was not only gone, but that even if he destroyed Aditya, it wouldn’t be commemorating Arvind, it would just be adding more painful stories to his memories—that took courage that Aryan didn’t think he had. He didn’t know if he had enough power to let it go, to let it all go. Because, if he did, what was he living for? He’d spent the past four years keeping Arvind’s memory, and his death, alive — what would he do if he didn’t have that anymore? Would he still remember Arvind? Was Maa right, had he been repressing his emotions because he was scared of actually feeling the pain of losing Arvind? But if he felt that pain, if he felt everything…he’d start to realize what he had to lose?

“Aru,” Arpita said, she wasn’t crying anymore, “Let’s assume you’re right. You’re absolutely right, Aditya is a bad reporter. He made horrible mistakes four years ago, no let’s say he purposefully made mistakes. What mistakes did the Tripathis make? Did they also play a role in Arvind…” Arpita paused, “What did that woman do? Who Dev told you about, so you could help her? And instead, you might have pushed her deeper into her problems. Do you have a right to play with her life?”

Aryan collapsed on an armchair behind him. He’d told Dev he would fix everything for Radhika, but what if he couldn’t? He’d already been hiding his guilt over not saving Arvind for years, could he handle more?

Narmada cleared her throat, “Aru, beta, look at me.”

Aryan looked up at her.

“Stop this. Let it go. Not for us, no emotional blackmail, pakka promise. But let it go for yourself. And then, when you’re feeling the pain, the grief, that you’ve been hiding for four years now, we’re here.”

Aryan stood up, he didn’t say anything, and he walked upstairs.

On the top step, he looked towards Imlie’s room, fully expecting it to be empty and the door ajar—the Sita Maiya murti he bought for her, standing in the corridor, alone. But he saw her, standing near the murti, her bag in her hand, wearing the same clothes she had on this morning.

Aryan muttered to himself, “Honestly, something is wrong with me, I’m seeing her everywhere now, not just in my head.”

He walked towards his room, passing what was clearly a delusion, when he heard the delusion speak.

“You really are forgetful, I’m the one who should be angry at and ignoring you. Not the other way around.” Imlie said.

Aryan spun around, not knowing what made him talk to a figment of his imagination, “Shut up, if you’re a hallucination, stay fake and stay silent.”

He strode towards it quickly, hoping it would disappear, but then what he thought was an apparition stepped back and tripped over its feet.

“Aaah!” Imlie yelled, trying to balance herself.

Aryan, though shocked, instinctively reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her up and close, “Tum, tum sach mein yahaan ho?” (You, you’re really here?) He didn’t know why, perhaps to confirm whether this was real or just a really detailed hallucination— he reached his other hand and tucked a strand of hair out of her face.

Imlie made a face, “Kaa? Tum kya bol rahe ho? Nasha karke aae ho kya? Main aur kahaan hoti? Main tumhare saamane toh khadi hoon.” (What? What are you saying? Did you come here after taking drugs? Where else would I be? I’m standing right in front of you.)

Aryan, realizing he was so close to Imlie that he could smell the scent of that damned flower again that he couldn’t figure out. He was so close he could see her chest rise and fall with her breath. He was so close he could see the exact shape of her lips, how soft they looked. He was so close that he could see those magical golden specks in her eyes again.

He felt Imlie slightly pull at her wrist, and broke out of his spell, dropping both his hands and stepping back.

Imlie was still confused, “Tum kya dekh rahe the? Kya mere chehare par kuchh hai?” Imlie touched at her face. (What were you looking at? Is there something on my face?)

Aryan cleared his throat, “No—I mean, what are you doing here?” He lifted his chin, “I would have thought you would have left this house by now. Saying something like you can’t stay in the same house with someone so merciless, someone who can lie so easily, right?”

Imlie put her hands on her hips, “Ab tum phir se naaraaz ho? Kyun? Kya tum chaahate ho ki main chali Jason? Aur maine kab tujhe beraham kaha? Haan, tumne jhoot zaroor bola. Turne galatee kee, bahut badi galatee kee. Lekin, agar mainne is ghar ko chhod diya, jahaan main ek kamara kirae par leti hoon, toh mujhe pure zindagi is baat ki chinta mein bitaoongi ki kaheen tum mujhase badala na le lo, hai na?” (Now you’re angry again? Why? Do you want me to leave? And when did I call you merciless? Yes, you definitely lied. You made a mistake, a big mistake. But, if I left this house, where I rent a room, I'd spend the rest of my life worried that you might take revenge against me, right?)

Aryan stared at Imlie, she’d said all this ten times too fast, and he thought that it was ridiculous that she called him ‘fast-forward.’

There was a two second silence, then Imlie started laughing at her own joke. Aryan stood there, dazed, as if someone had hit him on the head. Imlie laughter died down slowly, her gaze meeting Aryan’s again.

Aryan tried to get a hold of himself, “Main. Tumse badla lunga? Please.” (Me. Take revenge against you?)

Imlie laughed again, “After today’s drama, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Aryan took a step closer, a grin spreading on his face despite himself, “Vaise, tumhen dekh kar toh nahin lagta ki tum mujhse naraz ho? Kya tumne…” he took another step, “mujhe map kar diya? Itanee jaldi? Mujhe nahin bata tha ki main tumhaare lie itana khaas tha?” (By the way, after looking at you, it doesn’t seem that you’re angry at me? Did you…forgive me? That fast? I didn’t realize I was that special to you.)

Imlie swallowed, and pulled herself together. She didn’t know what happened to her every time Aryan was this close to her, her stomach seemed to start doing backflips, she got goosebumps no matter how warm the room was, her mouth went dry.

Imlie pushed Aryan back with one finger on his chest, “Mujhe nahin pata ki tum kyon muskura rahe ho. Aur tum haas nahin ho. Tumhare Maa mere lie haas hai. Aur unhone mujhse tujhe maaph karne ko kaha, toh mainne unki baat sunee. Aur kuch nahin.” (I don’t know why you’re smiling. And you’re not special. Your mother is special to me. And she asked me to forgive you, so I listened to her.)

Aryan smiled wider, and nodded mockingly, he still didn’t know why he liked seeing her flustered like this, “Ahhh, toh tumne, mujhe maaph kiya, mere Maa ke lie? Aur main tumhaare lie kuchh nahi hoon?” (Ahhh, So you, forgave me, for my mother? And I’m nothing to you?)

Imlie stammered but replied as calmly as she could, “I don’t know why I’m answering these questions. I’m getting late.” She tried to move past him to get to the stairs.

Aryan blocked her way, confused, “Where are you going? To the Tripathis? So you’re not going to give up?”

Imlie glared at him, now more flustered and getting angry. She didn’t want to hear the same speech again from this morning. She’d heard everything Arpita Didi and Kaki Maa had said to Aryan, and she wanted to keep hoping that it had an effect on him, she didn’t want to be disappointed again, not when she knew she couldn’t stay angry at him, that she couldn’t hate him. Kaki Maa had managed to draw a map of Aryan’s pain and emotions over the past four years, so clear that Imlie couldn’t pretend the borders of regret, the rivers of pain, the mountains of sadness didn’t exist.

“Yes, I’m going. And I don’t want to hear the same taunts and accusations from this morning again. Also, you know me, I don’t give up, ever. Don’t look so smug, I have three mothers on my side. I know you like to play fair…but this game, isn’t fair.” Imlie tried to move past Aryan, but he stopped her again.

“Three mothers? Your Amma, Sita Maiya, and who else?” Aryan asked, bemused and slightly impressed with Imlie’s faith in her Sita Maiya and motherhood in general.

Imlie grinned, “Aaj ki, woh kya kehte hain, jo khel mein sabse badhiya khilaadi hai, woh kya puraskaar jeeththa hai—ahhh, MVP. Teri Maa. Kaki Maa.” (Today’s, what do they call the person, who’s the best player in the game, what award do they win—ahh, MVP.)

Aryan raised an eyebrow, “Meri Maa? MVP? Kyun?”

Imlie laughed, “I like it when you’re confused, it happens so rarely. Cute hai. You can pretend all you want. But I heard everything Kaki Maa and Arpita Didi said to you. I was right this morning. You underestimated your family’s love. Tum bilkul mere jaise nikale! Tum bhi apne ke lie kuchh bhi karoge.” (You turned out exactly like me! You’ll also do anything for your loved ones.)

Maa’s words floated back into Aryan’s head, but instead of the fear and powerlessness he felt downstairs, looking at Imlie, her smile, her confidence—Aryan wondered if he perhaps had the courage to let go. He’d walked up the stairs feeling as if there was a ton of weight on his chest, but now, he could breathe. Imlie was still beaming, as if someone had just told her she’d won the lottery, or that her Sita Maiya was coming down to Earth and starting her world tour in Pagdandia. Aryan didn’t know, at this moment, if he wanted to undo what he’d done. He just knew he didn’t want Imlie to leave.

He stepped even closer to Imlie, meeting her eyes again, which widened. He put his right hand on the side table behind her, Imlie backed up against it, taking a step back with each one Aryan had taken forward. Aryan smiled, his eyes darting down to her lips before looking into her eyes again. He lifted his left hand and placed it on the wall, level with Imlie’s shoulders.

“So, tum, mujhe maaph kar diya?” Aryan asked, again. He wanted to hear her say yes again, because no matter how much Imlie tried, she was a horrible liar, and she wasn’t forgiving him because Maa had asked her to.

Imlie stammered, “Haan—mainne, mainne kaha ki manine tumhen maaph kar diya. Tumne suna nahin? Kya tum bahare ho gaye ho, itana kareeb se kyon poochh rahe ho?” (Yes—I, I said I forgave you. Didn’t you hear? Did you become deaf, why are you asking me so close?)

Aryan pretended to look confused, “Why, exactly, are you forgiving me? If you’re going to undo what I did because it’s so wrong? If you’re going to end up saving Ad— him, anyway?”

Imlie was exhausted by this man now. First, he was going to make her late. Second, he was acting weird, he’d smiled more in the past few minutes than he’d smiled in the whole time she’d known him. And finally, him being this close was making her stomach do backflips again.

Imlie put on a straight face and tried to ignore the goosebumps crawling their way up her arms, “Fine. It’s not because of Kaki Maa. Well not only Kaki Maa. It’s your fault.” Imlie swallowed again. It was taking everything in her right now not to break her eye contact with Aryan. She couldn’t say for sure, but this stare felt like a game, and she didn’t want to lose.

Aryan asked, in a bemused and quiet voice, a voice that sent a shiver down her spine, “It’s my fault? That you forgave me? I think you need to explain further.”

Imlie shot back, “You’re the one who’s always telling me to learn to compartmentalize, to control my emotions. So it’s your fault. I put my duty to protect my family, to make them happy, to help them, in one box. And you’re in the other box. That’s it. They don’t mix.”

Aryan nodded again as if he understood, but then mocked confusion again, “So that means, you want to make me happy? Really? How?”

Imlie couldn’t take it anymore, if she stayed one more second this close to Aryan, she…well she didn’t know. She quickly said, “That’s enough questions. And you really do seem to have a problem with your hearing. I told you, you’re my friend, and it’s not just happiness in the box, but help and protection too.” She ducked under his left arm and took three steps away from Aryan for good measure. Imlie turned and said, “I’m going, I can’t be late…unless, you want to forget this whole revenge idea, and fix this yourself? Yeh villain ka role chhod do, na?” (Leave this villain role, no?)

Aryan turned and leaned against the side table, grinning, “Villain ka role chhod dun?” (Leave the villain role?)

Imlie, for a second, thought he would agree, “Haan, chhod do.” (Yes, leave it.)

Aryan pretended to think about it for a second, “Tsk. No, I have no interest in being your heroine.”

Imlie laughed, genuinely. She didn’t know where stand-up comic Aryan had been hiding, but he wasn’t half bad, “Toh item girl ban jao.” (So, become an item girl.)

Aryan chuckled and flexed both his arms, “Yeh body chalega, woh role ke liye?” (Will this body work, for that role?)

Imlie pretended to look him up and down, “Hmm, mujhe lagta hai ki tumhe thode aur mehanat karna pagega.” (Hmm, I think you’ll have to work a little harder.)

Imlie heard her phone ping, that was probably Shiv, he said he’d pick her up and they’d go to Tripathi House together.

Imlie sighed dramatically, “Sorry, Aryan, buddy. But that’s my cue to leave. Shiv’s waiting outside.” Imlie turned and hurried down the stairs.

Aryan was taken aback. Where the hell had Shiv come from? He sprinted down the stairs behind Imlie, and called after he, “Shiv? You said you were going to the Tripathis?”

Imlie reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to look at him as if he had just asked her what two plus two was, “Yes, Shiv agreed to take the case. Wasn’t that obvious?”

Aryan shouted, a little louder than he’d intended, “Tumhe pooree Delhi mein doosara vakeel nahin mila?” (You couldn’t find another lawyer in all of Delhi?)

Imlie was even more dumfounded now, she shot back at Aryan sarcastically as she walked to the front door, “I’m so sorry, Rathore Ji, I don’t have as many contacts as you do. There’s nothing wrong with Shiv, he figured out what you’re probably planning very quickly.”

Aryan stood next to her at the entrance to the house, his hand on the door, preventing her from opening it, “Really? I doubt that. Are you going in his car? Alone?”

Imlie stared at him and then mocked an excited voice, “Of course not! We’re taking a private jet.” She pushed Aryan’s hand away and opened the door, walking outside.

Aryan stood in the doorway and saw a black sedan, a little ways down in the driveway. He clenched the doorknob as he watched Imlie get in the car, and then Shiv backed out of the driveway. Aryan stood there until the car turned and wasn’t visible anymore. He slammed the door shut and trudged up the stairs again.

The light feeling, virtually alien to Aryan, was gone. He was seeing red again. What surprised him, though, was that Aryan barely cared that Imlie was going through this to save Aditya anymore. He had made it to the top of the stairs and his eyes fell on the side table again. He grinned. He would never question Didi’s design choices for the house ever again. Then he stopped smiling abruptly. His could feel his face getting hot as he thought about what had just transpired. What had gotten over him? More importantly, how the hell had Imlie forgiven him? Her compartmentalization answer wasn’t the whole truth. Turning to his room his eyes fell on the Sita Maiya murti again. Aryan sighed. He didn’t know if what he was going to do was right, for him, or for Imlie. He texted Imlie. Then he called Dev. As he listened to the rings, he offered Imlie’s Sita Maiya a salute and smiled. “Don’t let me down,” he told the murti, and walked into his room.