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Agastya stayed silent, his skin prickling as he listened to the smear of confidence in Ganesh’s voice. He noted Ganesh dropping the ‘Sir’ with which he’d always addressed him. They were finally getting down to brass tacks now.
“The truth did win in this case,” Agastya pointed out. “You’re the one behind bars, not me.”
Ganesh smiled, an eerily calm smile. “This game is not over yet. The final battle is still to be fought.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Baffled, Agastya stared at him. Had being in jail tipped the balance of Ganesh’s mental health? Had the other man truly lost it?
“In our world,” Ganesh leaned forward like he was imparting wisdom. “War is waged in the public’s eyes, in their hearts.”
A lightbulb went off in Agastya’s brain as he stared at the malice and cunning in the other man’s eyes. “It was you,” he said. “You were tipping off the media. You’re the one who put the idea of me framing you in Gadde’s head.”
Ganesh grinned, an easy, familiar grin, one that had Agastya fighting back a wave of grief for what they’d once shared.
“There you go,” Ganesh said, his voice sly and soft. “Now you know everything.”
“Why? Why tip the media off to a fraud you committed? Better to have let it stay buried.”
“I was playing the long game. I didn’t steal the money to run away with it, Agastya. I stole it to bury you with it.”
Agastya pushed back from the table in one smooth movement, rising to his feet and staring down at the man seated before him.
“I will find it,” he swore, his voice lethally vicious. “I will find it and build you a tombstone of regret when I do. The only grave you’ve dug is your own.”
He walked away before he said or did anything he’d regret. Ganesh’s voice stopped him before he left the room.
“She’ll never forgive you when she finds out why you married her.”
Agastya’s heart clenched even as he gritted his jaw, swallowing the urge to tell his ex-friend that she’d already found out.
“She really loves you,” Ganesh continued. “Like really, seriously, the whole deal.”
Agastya closed his eyes, the words slicing through his bruised heart and leaving it shredded.
“She’s too good for you. Too good, too sweet, too nice.” Ganesh’s voice turned contemplative. “This might be the end of the road for me, Agastya. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? But there is no happy-ever-after for you either. That brings me comfort.”
Agastya didn’t answer. He banged on the door and waited for the police man to open it and let him out. He stopped for a second to look at his friend.
“Whatever else I do or don’t do, I promise you this, Ganesh. You’ll never be a free man again.”
The door slammed shut behind him as he strode down the small corridor. Virat was waiting for him, right outside.
“He’s got the money somewhere that implicates me,” Agastya told him grimly. “Find it before the fucking cops do.”
Virat nodded, peeling away from Agastya and walking towards his own car, his phone to his ear. Naresh held the car door for Agastya and he got in, slumping against the backseat.
“Home Sir?” Naresh asked, sliding into the front.
“Did you know?” Agastya asked him abruptly. “Did you know about Ganesh? Were you in on it?”
He saw the back of Naresh’s neck tense, the muscles there bunching together. “Your father is the reason my father is alive today. He paid for my father’s surgery when I had no hope of raising the money. Your family is my God, my loyalty the altar at which I worship. But to answer your question simply, no. No, I didn’t know. No, I was not in on it.”
Agastya struggled to find the faith that had earlier come so easily to him. Nothing Virat had dug up had indicated Naresh’s involvement though. So, even if he couldn’t trust his instincts, he could trust the data he’d been handed.
“Home Sir?” Naresh asked again, stiffly this time.
Home. He should go home. But he didn’t want to. He wanted her. He wanted her with a desperation that sang in his soul.
“The dance academy,” he said gruffly.
