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“In short,” Krish elaborates, “he’s a man of many aliases. Someone with such a diverse identity is indeed dangerous.”
“So, are we potentially dealing with a wanted criminal or a mafia?” I inquire.
Krish shrugs. “I hope not. But we can’t rule out that possibility. At least now, we have a starting point,” Krish remarks, impressed by the information his team has uncovered.
“We didn’t stumble upon this information,” I speculate, starting to piece together the puzzle in my mind. “He left these clues for us deliberately. A man who was bold enough to reveal his face at today’s event wouldn’t be careless enough to leave these breadcrumbs by accident. He wants us to trace him. He knew the first thing we’d look for was his car’s license plate, which he cleverly parked just meters away from Shergill Mansion for our cameras to capture it. He wanted us to dig into his records and understand who we’re up against.”
Krish nods in agreement.
“He wants us to come looking for him, and we will,” I assert.
“But not according to his terms. We’ll find himwhenhe least expects us,wherehe least anticipates us.”
Krish grins, lauding my strategic thinking, and nods in agreement.
“He’s in for a much greater surprise than the one he sprung on us,” Krish comments, turning his attention back to his monitoring team and outlining our next course of action.
I stare at the gift box Raghav gave me earlier this evening. This man, whoever he is, and however dangerous he is, has hurt my father. The question that I can’t stop thinking about is, how did he get access to information that was supposed to be confidential? And, what other important details related to my dad, does he have that he might use against us in the future to cause more harm?
****************
An hour later, around 2:30 a.m., I make my way back to our bedroom. The room’s darkness tells me that Meher has already drifted off to sleep, which is precisely what I had hoped for. I didn’t want her to stay awake for so long, especially given the day’s events. My wife remains blissfully ignorant of the day’s tumultuous happenings, and I intend to keep it that way.At least for tonight.As I step inside, I see her lying on the bed, sleeping like a baby. She seems to have forgotten to cover herself with a comforter, a clear sign of her exhaustion. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kept my newlywed wife waiting like this on our wedding night. I walk to the bed and pull the comforter over her body, careful not to wake her. She stirs slightly in her sleep as I cover her. Desire wells up inside me, and I long to join her under those covers, to snuggle her close and wake her up with my kisses and caresses. Though I was lucky to get some share of my wife’s love in the afternoon, nothing can fully quench my thirst for her.
Not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber, I gently kiss her forehead and tiptoe towards the closet to safely stow the mysterious box by Raghav. After completing the task, I undress, move towards the bathroom and turn on the shower. The cold water washes away the exhaustion and stress that has built up throughout the day. However, my mind continues to be troubled by thoughts of these mysterious people who have suddenly entered our lives, and I can’t help but wonder about their identities and motives. Who are they, and why are they pursuing us?
If Raghav is behind Dad’s accident, how did he get his hands on Pratap Walia’s vehicle? Could it be that he’s connected to the Walias in some way or the other? Is that how he got invited to enter Shergill Mansion’s party tonight? My mind is swarming with doubts, and each one seems to lead me to Pratap Walia. He had issued a cryptic warning to me just hours ago, suggesting that amidst all my strategic moves, I had failed to recognise that the Bishop was close to giving me a checkmate. Was he referring to Raghav? Or someone else entirely? I need answers from Pratap Walia. He’s responsible for the situation that led to Dad’s accident, and if he’s still trying to mess with the Shergills, I won’t let him get away with it this time.
I put these thoughts on hold for now and come out of the bathroom after turning off the shower. Meher is still sound asleep. I pat myself dry and, slipping into my night pants, crawl into the bed beside her without disturbing her. Gently, I pull the comforter over both of us, my hand lightly grazing her waist as I draw her closer, seeking comfort in her presence. Luckily, she’s changed into her sleeping gown and not dozed off in the saree she wore at the wedding reception. I regret missing the chance to undress her tonight, particularly in that saree that I’ve longed to remove ever since I first laid eyes on her in it. Meher in traditional attire has always been my weakness.
With her back resting against my chest and my arm around her waist, I plant kisses on her hair and neck. She responds by pressing her body against mine, reigniting my desire. However, I understand that she needs rest just as much as I do, so I choose to ignore the longing for now and focus on providing her with the comfort she deserves. The tension stemming from the unexpected gift I received earlier melts away with just her presence. I shut my eyes, surrendering myself to sleep, finding comfort in the embrace of my newlywed wife. Her presence beside me has the remarkable ability to soothe every ounce of tension in my heart and mind.
CHAPTER 2
MEHER
I was around five years old when, one night, the echoes of familiar voices screamed in my tiny ears. Mom and Dad were fighting. I got down from my little bed and made my way towards the door. It was dark in the room and even darker in the lobby outside. I approached the room adjacent to mine, my parent’s bedroom, where the sounds of dispute were coming from.
“When were you planning to tell me this, Pratap?” Mom shouted. “How did you even hide this truth from me for so long?”
“Meera, please,” Dad yelled back. “This is what kept me from telling you the truth. Look at you! I knew it would cause you anxiety and stress. And I wanted to avoid that. For me, your health always comes first.”
“Don’t touch me,” Mom shouted back.
I almost froze in my spot at her tone. Mom never shouted. She had the softest and the sweetest voice, with which she sang lullabies to lull me to sleep. What changed today? Why was she fighting with Dad?
“Meera, please understand.”
“Are you going to do what I told you or not?” Mom retorted.
There was a long pause until Dad spoke again.
“What you are asking me to do will risk my entire political career. The career I have worked hard to build for half of my life. I just can’t step back now, Meera.”
Again, a long silence ensued as I cuddled my soft bunny, the one I’d brought with me from my room. The one I always cuddled when I slept. I could hear footsteps approaching the door from the inside of the room. Not wanting them to see me, I quickly hid behind the pillar nearby, my body shivering with fear. I didn’t like them fighting.
“Then this conversation ends here. I’m taking Meher and leaving for my father’s house tomorrow. You have only tonight to change your decision.”
The door opened, and Mom stormed out, wiping her tears, and made her way to the stairs. Why was she not sleeping in her room with Dad? And why was she taking me to Grandpa’s house the next day? Before I could understand, I heard a loud scream from the stairs. It was Mom’s. I ran towards the stairs. Even Dad stormed out of the room and screamed Mom’s name, running to help her. As I reached the staircase, my hold on the bunny loosened, and it fell from my grip as I saw Mom lying lifeless at the end of the stairs, blood pooled around her head, and Dad crying for help.
