Something in them sharpened. Focused. His lips moved.
Abhinav came closer and leaned down.
“I...” Just a breath. Barely there. “...believe in you...”
“I will.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “Make you proud.”
His father’s eyes held his for another moment. Then closed.
His chest rose.
Fell.
Rose again, shallowly.
Fell.
And didn’t rise again.
The monitor’s steady beep went flat. One long tone that filled the room.
The nurse stepped forward, checked for a pulse, and looked at the doctor who’d appeared in the doorway. The doctor checked his watch and noted the time.
“Time of death: 4:47 PM.”
Sarita collapsed forward, forehead on her husband’s shoulder, body shaking with silent grief. Naina was still holding his hand, gripping it as if she just held on tight enough, he might come back.
Abhinav stood very straight. Then walked to the terrace and slid the door shut behind him.
Dubai spread out below in all its afternoon brilliance. The skyline he’d looked at a thousand times. The Burj Al Arab in the distance.
Abhinav stood with his hands on the railing.
And let himself break.
He just stood there while grief moved through him. Hot and sharp and complete. He let himself be, for these few minutes, simply a son who had lost his father.
The tears came. He didn’t wipe them. Didn’t move. Just let them fall while his chest ached and his throat closed and every breath felt like work.
He’d learned so much from this man. How to negotiate. How to read a room. How to walk into any city and make it work for you. How to build something from nothing.
What had simply never occurred to him until now, was how to be in the same home, the same life, without him.
Abhinav stayed on the terrace until the tears stopped on their own. Then straightened. Used his handkerchief. Controlled his breathing until it was even.
When he slid the door open, he was someone who had things to do.
“I need to make calls.” He told his mother.
She looked up, understood and nodded.
He stepped into the hallway.
Called Kishore first.
“It’s done,” he informed when his assistant answered. “Clear my calendar for two weeks. The funeral is tomorrow. Draft a statement for the partners and press. Nothing excessive.”
“Boss…”
