Dil Beparwah | ✔

forty seven

||CHAPTER 47||
《¤》

┊A R V I K A┊

Sometimes, you can hear the chaos in silence. It's loud, it's deafening. Kind of like a boomerang that flips back so fast, you can hear it slice the air, and when it does, you can either catch it or duck to save yourself.

I did neither. I thought I was ready to catch it, but when the time arrived, this boomerang promised a wreckage so massive that it would topple me over. And I couldn't duck because I was too stunned to move. So it hit me, cut me, left a gash.

Gash that came in the form of an email that I should have been prepared for, but fooled myself into believing otherwise. I stared at it for the whole hour, hoping it would disappear, or the words would rearrange, or another email would pop up and nullify the existence of it. Multiple refreshes in vain. The silence really was deafening.

Subject: Notice of temporary suspension

A sudden pat snapped me out of my reverie. My mother squeezed my shoulder, saying something to call my attention.

"Huh?"

Sighing, she moved from behind, rounding the sofa to sit next to me. Today, no make-up concealed the light wrinkles webbing the corners of her face. Disappointment, resignation, contempt, all hidden in plain sight. I used to wonder how she masked those.

Then I realized she didn't have any other option. The outside world had not delayed their reaction, but her method of retaliation was meditative. As if she knew it would happen, was counting on it. So when it did happen, she didn't leave my side, because I was foolish enough to pretend otherwise.

"I'm sorry," I babbled for the umpteenth time. "I just uhm... you were saying something about the investigation?"

The news had spread like wildfire. Several allegations had then come up, resulting in CBI probes and investigation. My mother's residence in Mumbai came under the warrants too, but she had managed to get Arnav and my properties struck off the lists for the time being. And so, we decided to move back to Delhi, at least till the wedding was over.

"Do you know anything about someone named Rana?"

Because she was still unaware of the Plan A that her husband had mustered, I hesitated, "Why?"

"The name has come up in the investigation, but this person is untraceable."

I wasn't sure if the breath I released was of relief or fear. My mother assessed me quietly. "Who is this Rana?"

"No one I can remember right now," I said. Did I want my mother to know? I hadn't been sworn to secrecy, I just felt a little uneasy. We never did follow through Oberoi's master plan, but it was still in motion when Aryan helped me stop it. Harish Tiwari's daughter remained unharmed.

Rana, though? He was very much armed with information. He would remain untraceable only for a probationary period. He had a huge list of demands, and he planned on cashing each item out.

"Baby, you need to tell me so that we can clear this mess. Raman ke baremein bhool jao, he is not here. Who is Rana and how is he associated with this case?"

Her reaction scared me. What scared me even more was the probability of having to face charges. This cycle of conflicted reluctance finally gave way to the terrifying admission, "Rana is the conman he had hired."

"Raman hired a conman?" She repeated, perplexed. "Kis liye?"

"He wanted to..." I trailed off. She was not going to like this.