Page 4 of Born in Ruin

“What am I going to do?” Ishaan laughed, the sound bursting free from him. “I’m going to marry her.”

Dhrithi stared at him. For a long moment, she said nothing. And then she opened her mouth and yelled, “AMAY!!”

Amay appeared a second later, like a genie summoned from his lamp. “What’s up?”

“Ishaan’s having some kind of a breakdown,” Dhrithi told him, her worried gaze scanning Ishaan’s face.

Amay looked at Ishaan, a ladle in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. “What’s up?” he asked again.

“I’m getting married,” Ishaan told him.

“To?” Amay’s ladle slowly lowered until it was pointing at the ground.

“Mayukhi Chatterjee from school, remember her?”

Amay stared at him for an extra-long moment before pulling out his phone and swiping it open. Without another word, he dialed a number, his perturbed gaze on Ishaan’s grinning face.

“Virat,” he said as soon as the call was picked up. “How soon can you get here?”

TWO

Mayukhi

Music pounded out of the speakers of her gorgeous little, cherry red Mini Cooper as Mayukhi zipped through the late evening traffic. She had her windows down and the wind blew through it, carrying with it a hint of rain. She loved this season. The magic of the monsoons always got to her, improving her mood.

Mayukhi pulled into her apartment building, waving at the security guard who saluted her. Raghu Chacha was a sweetie and was always extra helpful with her shopping bags when she came home after long days out with her girls.

She parked, a little too haphazardly, in her spot in the basement and popped the trunk open. She grabbed her gym bag and hefted it over her shoulder, before shutting and locking the car. Her family owned the entire fifteenth floor of this building which afforded them six car parks in the basement which was a good thing since it meant she didn’treallyneed to align her car between the pillars perfectly. Her parking skills were legendary, and not in a good way.

She was still humming to herself when she keyed her way through the front door. She handed her gym bag to one of the helpers who materialized out of thin air and toed off her sneakers, padding through the hall in her socked feet. She loosened her hair from its tight ponytail, running her fingers through her sweat dampened hair. She grimaced hating the feel of the sticky strands.

“Mayukhi!”

She jumped at her father’s irate shout from somewhere to the right. Shantanu Chatterjee appeared from the gloom of his study like a ghoul from a graveyard. His balding pate gleamed slightly in the overhead lights and sweat poured down the side of his face like it usually did when he was stressed out. Which, just for the record, was always.

“Why are you yelling?” she asked testily. Her relationship with her father was a study of contradictions. She may not like him, but she loved him. He was her father, wasn’t he? She had to love him. Mayukhi loved her family fiercely, what there was left of it that is.

“What did you do?”

“Many, many things.” Mayukhi dropped onto the leather recliner on her right and stretched. “It’s been a long day.”

Her father made a weird, strangled noise. “You’re behind that article, aren’t you?” He pointed a stubby finger at her. “Don’t even deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Mayukhi bundled her hair into a messy bun. “I’m bloody proud of it. The journalist is a friend of Naveen Kumar’s. You remember him, right? From Crestwood? It was very sweet of him to extend himself like that but when heheard about our troubles with Adajania, he reached out to me himself.”

“You idiot,” her father hissed.

Mayukhi stared at him in surprise. “Baba, you know what he’s done. This is justice!”

“I know what I suspect he’s done. I know what I discussed with my family in the four walls of my house. This was never meant to be the outcome. We shouldn’t be doing anything like this without proof.”

“It’s a speculative article.” Mayukhi honestly didn’t get what all the fuss was about. “Naveen said that-“

“He said that it didn’t cite us as a source so we’re safe. I’m sure he also said that the language was vague and didn’t make any direct accusations. Am I right?”

“Yes.” A flicker of unease streamed through Mayukhi as she watched her father pace and gesticulate.

“Naveen Kumar is using you, us really, as collateral damage in the war they’re waging on Adajania and his friends.”

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