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“I wonder if this is how she handles things every time she’s annoyed with you—by not allowing you to speak at all,” Krish continues, and prevents me from landing another blow to the bag.
“Shut up, Krish,” I mutter. “Any more information on Vishnu?” I divert the topic.
Krish sighs, shaking his head. “You and your Vishnu obsession. I’ve told you before, there’s nothing suspicious about him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have sent him as a backup for you to save Meher. He’s as clean as a whistle.”
I punch the bag again, frustrated. “Come on, Krish. There has to be something! He’s too perfect, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“I don’t know what you want me to look into, but whatever that is, it is like finding a needle in a stack of hay.”
I punch the bag again. Krish chuckles teasingly.
“Ahh, I get it now. You are jealous, buddy. You are jealous of Vishnu, aren’t you? Jealous that he gets to be around Meher all the time. She didn’t even get angry with Vishnu for lying to you about the scandal. On the other hand, she is unwilling to give you a second chance. All of this is making you jealous and resentful. And in this jealousy, you are making me slog to uncover something that doesn’t exist.”
He continues to speak, but I ignore him now because my mind is completely focused on Vishnu. His interest in the Walias is dubious. It’s as though his life begins and ends with them. Why?
Who are you, Vishnu, and why are you so obsessed with the Walias?
“Alright, I’ll try to look into more details about him,” Krish says. “But first, let’s get you away from this poor punching bag, shall we? Instead of venting your frustration on the punch bag, why don’t you do something which can pacify Meher?” he suggests. “Order some of her favourite cuisines. You mentioned she loves French fries and Cheese balls, right? How about sending a cheesy dish her way every two hours?”
Krish’s mischievous grin only adds to my frustration as I continue to vent my anger on the punch bag. I can’t believe he’s suggesting such a cheesy (pun intended) way to woo Meher. Ordering her favourite cheese dishes every two hours? Seriously?
I stop punching the bag and give him an exasperated glare.
“You must be joking, Krish. Cheese is not going to solve my problems with Meher. On the contrary, all that cheese will only make her put on weight, for which she will only be furious with me, not fall in love with me!”
He chuckles and shrugs playfully.
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right? Well, the same goes for women. At least, it’s worth a shot with your woman. Woo her back with her favourite cheese dishes!”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at his persistence.
“Seriously? You think cheese is the key to Meher’s heart?”
Krish grins and nods.
“Hey, you never know. It’s worth a try, right? And let’s face it; you don’t have many other options at the moment. Meher isn’t exactly making it easy for you to win her back.”
I sigh, knowing he’s right. Meher has been avoiding me and is not responding to my calls or messages, and it is driving me crazy. I’m willing to do anything to make things right between us, but I can’t force her to talk to me.
Krish pats me on the back, trying to be supportive.
“Look, Ayaan, I know it’s tough, but you can’t keep taking out your frustration on this poor punching bag. Give it a break before it explodes! Come on, give my idea a shot. What do you have to lose? And who knows, it might just work. Meher won’t be able to resist your cheesy charms!”
“How about I stop punching the bag and punch you instead to f*cking shut your mouth?” I snarl.
Krish laughs at my words. At the same instant, my phone buzzes with a WhatsApp notification at the side table. Krish insists that I check my phone, but I remain disinterested, wallowing in my anger and self-pity.
“Check your phone, Ayaan. It could be Meher. You know how these women are! If you don’t answer right away, she might give up on the idea of calling you altogether. Don’t miss out on her precious message. It might be important. Trust me, women value prompt replies from their partners,” he teases, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“You find this all funny?” I scowl, my frustration evident in my tone.
“No, not at all. But, it will be quite ironic if the message turns out to be from her, and you decide not to read or reply on time,” Krish retorts, his playful smile replaced by a more serious expression.
Annoyed, I glare at him before reluctantly picking up my phone to check my WhatsApp.
My eyes widen in shock as I read the message on my phone. It’s from an unknown number, but the content of it sends a chill down my spine. The message shows the images of Pratap Walia’s missing car, revealing a tampered front bonnet as if it had been involved in an accident. The unmistakable four-inch lion sticker at the front confirms it is Pratap Walia’s vehicle. The message even provides the car’s location, which happens to be within a 10 km radius of where Dad’s accident occurred.
“What the hell,” I mutter and hand over my phone to Krish.
