“Please do. I’m the head matron from Shaanti Care. Mr. Talwar has been asking for her quite often. Is she still visiting him today?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly; the confirmation that Nanaji was at a care home unsettled him. Had Vera changed so drastically that she’d distanced herself from her grandfather as well?
“She is never late on her visiting days and Mr. Talwar was getting worried. Could you have her call him on video at least? He is always a little better after he sees her.”
“Sure, I’ll let her know.”
Vihaan ended the call, no less confused than before. It was clear that Nanaji was no longer living with Vera, but it also sounded like she visited him diligently? Maybe she hadn’t abandoned Nanaji after all?
But the Vera he knew in his childhood was so attached to her grandfather, she would never have condoned placing him in a care home.
Unless circumstances made it necessary. Unless she was in trouble. Unless. . .
He ran an irritated hand through his hair, messing with it out of habit.I don’t care about her. I don’t care to know why she is the way she is or what she’s been doing for the last decade and half. I don’t care!
He tossed her phone back onto the table, frustrated with his errant mind for its curiosity.
Where the fuck are you?!
Maybe she’d gone home and left her phone behind. Maybe he was just waiting here, like a fool, for nothing. He almost smacked a hand against the side of the desk when a horrible thought crept up.
She missed our 2:00 p.m. meeting.
She is never late on her visiting days.
His hands went cold. Without stopping to think, he rushed towards the elevator bank, pressing the button a dozen times. He glanced at the numbers above the elevator door, body buzzing. The pounding in his chest made it impossible for him to wait. He ran around the corner and wrenched open the door to the stairwell, leaping down a half-dozen stairs at a time as he headed multiple floors below, straight to the archives room.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck.” The steady stream of curses couldn’t hide a failing hope that his fear was unfounded.
He skidded to a halt outside the closed door, the taped sign doing nothing to assuage his rising concern. He twisted the knob, finding it stuck partway. Agitated, he wrestled with it, fully prepared to break the damn door down when it gave way.
The hinges rattled loudly as the door shook upon impact with the wall, something Vihaan ignored in his hurry to get inside. He jogged in, stumbling when he saw the bent form of a woman in a familiar blouse and skirt crouched on the ground.
Vera. Fuck.
The surprise on her face faded as she stood up, her movements slow, as though her limbs had forgotten how to move with their usual fluidity.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his breathing loud in the otherwise quiet room.
The silence between them made his skin crawl, worry and panic bathing him in a mist of sweat.
“Am I okay?” she repeated incredulously, her voice hoarse. Like she’d been yelling. “Do I look okay?”
That’s when he saw it. The puffiness around her eyes, the hint of redness around her nose and the glimmer at the edge of her lash line. Over four hours since she’d been in his office. Four fucking hours she’d been trapped here. Alone. And he’d assumed she was shirking her responsibilities. Guilt sliced through him, fast and absolute. He stepped a little closer to her. “Listen, I didn’t know—”
He stumbled back in shock when Vera slammed her palms against him, shoving him away. The look on her face told him that if she had a gun, he’d be sporting a gaping wound on his forehead for his attempt to console her.
“You lock me in, then have the gall to ask me if I’mokay?” she rasped.
Appalled that she’d drawn such a terrible conclusion, he immediately defended himself.
“I didn’t lock you in!”
“The hell you didn’t! You sent me here. You did this! But guess what? I’m not giving in. You don’t get to win today.”
“Vera, wait a second—”
“I wouldn’t quit when you piled work on me, so this is how you’ve decided to harass me?!”