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“I don’t know about rights,” Virat said quietly. “But if I have a way to help you, I will always take it. Irrespective of what path it takes me down.”
“You will never use my wife again.” Agastya stepped forward, holding the other man’s gaze. “If you do, you will never be a part of my life, in any way, shape or form.”
“Acknowledged.” Virat nodded, his face completely shut down.
“Anna,” Harsh said from the side. “Could you stop being the Terminator for one second and acknowledge the fact that Virat saved your ass and Nanna’s too? This whole mess is finally over. Give the lethal robot a rest and try out your human side for a change?”
Agastya glared at him, but the ass only smiled unrepentantly back.
“There you go!” Harsh said encouragingly. “Showing emotion, even negative ones, are a very human thing.”
“Thank you,” Agastya ground out to Virat, ignoring his brother.
Virat smiled, the smallest smile in the Universe.
“We’re quits now,” he told Virat, knowing the other man carried the burden of a hideous past that Agastya had helped him with. A past that they’d never discuss, the other man’s secrets buried in a vault in Agastya’s deepest memories. “You stop talking about owing me. No more of that shit.”
Virat just shook his head, not bothering to agree with him, verbally or otherwise.
“There you go.” Harsh slung a heavy hand on Agastya’s shoulders, making him stagger. “Why don’t we all kiss and make up?”
“Get away from me,” Agastya growled, struggling to find his dignity as his brother made kissy noises at him.
Virat laughed. “Shall we leave?”
“Yes. Let’s go home!” Harsh bounced on his feet like an idiot warming up for a race. “The awful vibes in this place are not good for my mental health. And I need to be in the best headspace possible when my film hits the theatres next month.”
Agastya groaned. He’d forgotten all about Harsh’s movie debut. His father was going to go down the spiral of hell as they got closer to the date.
“So, shall we? Go home?” Harsh looked at him expectantly.
Agastya nodded, the familiar emptiness sweeping through him. Home. When had home stopped being a place and started being a person?
“Let’s go home,” he said, turning away from what was meant to be the moment of his biggest triumph, the final nail in Ganesh’s coffin. Why then did he feel only loss blanketing him?
“She loves you,” Virat murmured as he walked beside him. “She’ll come back.”
“She’s always loved me,” Agastya replied, slipping his sunglasses on so his perceptive friend couldn’t see more than he was ready to show. “But she won’t come back.”
Forty-Two
VEDA
Two weeks later.
“Akka, you have to come for it.”
Harsh’s producer was holding an exclusive screening for the families of the people involved in the making of the film. An obvious move to pander to her father-in-law who was still sulking about having an actor for a son.
Veda closed her eyes, affectionate exasperation flooding through her at Harsh’s pleading. “I can’t Harsh.”
“You can and you have to!” he exclaimed. “You owe me.”
“What do I owe you?” she asked humouring him as she leaned back against her headboard.
“Some joy,” he retorted. “You’ve stolen all the peace in my life.”
Veda smiled, her fingers pleating the comforter covering her legs. She’d spent the last two weeks vegetating in her bed. She rather fancied doing this for the rest of her life.
