Sumrit starts to argue, ‘Bro. I’m worried there are going to be more fights. People kill over this amount of money. Why not get rid of him? 20 lakh? 30 lakh? Is that a stupid idea?’
‘It’s not about the money, man,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s not that simple.’
But Aditi looks up, her eyes locking on to Sumrit’s. Her face hardens.
‘No,’ she says, her voice quiet but clear. ‘It’s fine. You want to know why that’s a stupid idea?’
Her voice trails. Sumrit looks at us, confused, unsure of what to say next.
Aditi continues, ‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you about Naman, about his parents. Then you can tell me whether they should get a single rupee or not.’
She takes a breath, and then, piece by painful piece, she tells them:
‘He was always the good boy. Thechiragof the family. The elder son,’ she begins, her voice low and flat. ‘Completed his studies on a loan and got a good job. And the minute he did, he took out more loans.’
‘For them?’ asks Tejal.
‘Why would he not? It’s family, right? You do these things for family, don’t you?’ she says. ‘Moved his parents, his brother, out to a better flat. He was just being a good son. He didn’t mind it. He worked and worked and worked so that he could give them whatever they pointed at.’
‘They were using him?’ asks Tejal, wanting to quickly establish that the family was evil.
Aditi doesn’t take the bait. ‘And he kept working. It was what one does. But then... he fell in love with someone.’
‘The first wife?’ asks Sumrit.
‘You don’t say that!’ Tejal slaps Sumrit.
Aditi doesn’t seem to be distracted by it. She says, ‘They turned on him. Love marriage would mean no dowry, nothing. They knew the girl would have power in the relationship. So they started full-on emotional blackmail, reminding him of everything they did for him, they kept poisoning him... all because he dared to fall in love.’
‘Kutte saale,’ says Tejal.
‘But Aman didn’t budge. Like a stupid boy, he thought he could fix everything. Got married, got the girl home, but what do you think happened? The marriage was doomed from the beginning. The girl didn’t allow herself to be bullied,’ narrates Aditi, and her gaze shifts to the noodles on her plate. ‘From here the timeline gets unclear. Who decided first? Did the girl decide she wanted to leave? Or did the family just decide they wanted to make her leave, at any cost? It doesn’t matter. She left. It left him a shell of a man. He was shaken, sad, depressed. He went about his life like that for five long years, and his parents...they didn’t care. They were just blind to his depression. As long as the salary was coming in, right?’
Her voice falters for a moment.
‘And that’s when we met. At the clinic. I felt sorry for him because I could see he was the nicest person for everyone else, but himself. That’s when I told him to take therapy. He started doing it, and he was actually feeling better,’ she says, her eyes little pools of tears.
From here, I know the story better.
‘But his family found out,’ she says, a bitter edge in her tone. ‘About the therapy, about me. And all hell broke loose. They told him he was falling into the same trap as before. Losing his heart to a slut—whatever they could call me to make him think he was crazy. They called my home.’
‘Why are all these fucking people all the same? Call home, call home. Fucking horrible,’ Tejal rails.
Aditi looks at me. ‘That’s when all those things happened . . . the pushing, the slapping . . . the threats . . .’
Sumrit just stares, his earlier stance completely changing in real time.
‘But love found its way,’ she says quietly. ‘He hid it from them, and slowly, he realized that the trap... the trap was his family. That’s when he decided to leave them... but they got to know. That’s when the second round started... and we decided we would start over... without our families.’
She’s hurting, I can see that. I want to reach out, hold her hand, but why? Why now? It would be weird. She can handle it. Of course, she can handle it.
Sumrit lets out a long, slow breath. ‘Okay,’ he says softly. ‘I get it now, bro. He deserves nothing. My idea was stupid. I’m sorry, bro.’
Tejal swears under her breath. ‘To be honest? They can go to hell.’
I look at the envelope. ‘You should do whatever the fuck you want to do with it,’ I say. My voice sounds harsher than I intended. ‘Burn it. Frame it. Mail it back. Keep it. Doesn’t matter. Your grief. Your decision.’
Tejal smirks. ‘Okay, full support mode.Thisis your family. You were his family. He chose you. That’s what matters.’
