My fingers tremble.
‘Hey? Hey?’ says Raghav. ‘What’s happening?
I watch them storming from one end to another. I blink and they are still there. Searching. They are scanning signs, flashing their tickets at the staff.
‘They’re here,’ I whisper. ‘They read it.’
I want to get up and run, but my feet are bolted to the floor, my eyes stuck on them. Didi’s doing that thing she does when she’s nervous—chewing her bottom lip and pretending she isn’t. Her husband looks annoyed.How dare he come looking for me?
‘Who’s here? What did who read?’ he asks. ‘... the letter? Where are they?’
And then, his eyes follow mine and he spots them.
‘What am I going to do?’ I mumble.
He looks around too. ‘Umm . . . can’t you . . . what . . . wait . . . washroom? Go hide in the washroom? I will call you when they leave. Go to the disabled washroom . . . they might not check that.’
‘What if they—’
He looks around. The walls seem to be collapsing. I feel like I’m losing balance, when he holds me.
‘That’s our only option,’ he says, his voice mirroring mypanic.
Tears spring to my eyes,our.
‘You need to go,’ he firmly says to me.
I turn and run. I don’t look back. I push the door, lock myself into the stall, sit down on the closed toilet seat. I curl into myself. My hands are trembling. I try to breathe, but it’s like someone has stepped on my chest. Whatwillthey do that’s not been done before? How worse will they make my life? Why did we not hide our relationship better? My sister once said she’d jump off a terrace if I ever ‘embarrassed the family’. Myjiju, brother-in-law? He’s the literal embodiment of the worst traits in a person. Five minutes pass by. Or an hour. I have no way of telling. I put my ear to the door, but I can’t hear anything.
The door latched shut, I wait.
And then, I hear his voice. It’s Raghav. I put my ear to the door again. I only hear snatches of conversation.
‘Yes, yes . . . the pivot is a little clunky . . . check the second sheet . . . I’m just going to the washroom . . . I will call you back . . .’
And then, I see the handle twist. It’s locked.
‘. . . no, no . . . nothing . . . just the door is locked . . .’
Shit. Now, I get it. I quickly unlatch the door. He walks in casually and closes the door shut.
‘They are outside,’ he whispers. ‘They checked the men’s, the women’s, and they were coming this way...’
I nod. I know I can’t say a word, or I will disintegrate into tears. We stay there for a long time. We don’t talk. After a while, Raghav gets up to look outside. He opens the door ever so slightly, then a little more, and then steps out and closes the door again. A minute passes by, and then another. And then he pushes open the door.
‘They are gone,’ he says.
‘Thank—’
The tears come before I can complete the word.
7
Aditi
The coffee shop is the last to shut down.
I don’t know why I expected everything to be open all night. The store workers need to get back to their families too. The fear has led to sadness and now I wonder what mine’s doing. I have not answered their calls. So, are they calling all my friends? Will they wait till the morning?
