“Did you give Vera money?”
Suraj spun around, startled at seeing Vihaan walking into his study.
“Did you give Vera money?!” Vihaan asked again, coming to stand beside the empty armchair across from which his father sat.
“Vera?”
“Vera Talwar!”
A frown marred Suraj’s forehead, but he didn’t reprimand Vihaan for his rudeness.
“After so many years, why are you asking about her?”
“Answer the goddamn question!” Vihaan snapped, his already thin patience rapidly evaporating as fear drummed a heavy beat within him.
Suraj’s lips tightened in disapproval, but he answered anyway. “Yes. I gave her money.”
“Why?”
“She tutored you.”
“Did you tell her to break up with me?”
Suraj’s brow rose in surprise, but he nodded. “I did.”
His father’s admittance had Vihaan stepping closer, his fists clenched so tight, he knew he’d leave nail marks on his palm. “How dare you? What gave you the right to interfere in my relationship?!”
“Being your father gave me the right!” Suraj shot back, slapping one hand against his upholstered armrest. “Nearly two decades of seeing you waste your potential and not treating anything, anyperson, any goal seriously, gave me the right! You were a teenager, and a capricious one at that. I was doing what any father would!”
“I was serious about her!”
“That’s what she said.” Suraj’s unexpected acceptance had Vihaan reeling. “She believed that you had changed. That you were committed to her.”
Vihaan felt his throat clog with countless emotions, at the very surface of which was paralysing shame. “I thought she took your money to leave me,” he whispered, horrified. “I said terrible things to her because of that.”
“I offered her the money, Vihaan, because I knew they needed it and would be too proud to ask for help. I did tell her to break off your relationship, forhersake. But she refused, and I accepted her sincerity. I never had a chance to speak with her again. The next thing I knew, her grandfather quit his post with us, and they left Nagpur without a word. You skipped off to London and—” Suraj released a heavy breath, looking every bit his age. His voice was pained when he spoke again. “You went from disliking me to outright despising me. Is this why?”
The weight of his actions crashed upon Vihaan, stripping him of the strength to remain standing. He crumpled into the empty seat, and bent forward, his fingers clutching his hair as the heel of his palms dug into closed eyes.
“Why did you never ask me about her before?” he heard Suraj inquire. “If you believed I had taken away something so important to you, why did you never confront me? You shut me out of your life.”
Shame swelled in him. He could barely croak out his reasons, now that he knew how false they were.
“Because I felt like a fool. All my life, you had said you were disappointed in me. When I thought she betrayed me, and you were part of it, I felt like the biggest idiot for being played by my father and the girl I loved. Like every effort I’d made to show that I’dchanged had been meaningless. I felt disappointed in myself and so embarrassed, I couldn’t bear talking about it.”
A firm hand on his shoulder had Vihaan looking up.
“I am sorry,” Suraj said with a fatherly pat on his cheek. “I didn’t give you enough credit when I saw you changing. Vera told me that, you know? She stood up for you. I realised my mistake soon after. But I’d pushed you away by then and you didn’t want my presence around you.”
Vihaan nodded, still too much in shock with all the truths that had been revealed today.
“Son, about Vera—”
“It wasn’t you, Papa,” he sighed. “It was my fault.”
Oh god. He’d accused her of sleeping with him for money. It was a miracle he managed to stay conscious when the pain that ravaged through him felt like he’d consumed a feast of glass shards whose jagged edges were cutting him with every breath. He wanted to heave the contents of his stomach into the nearest bin and give in to the misery. But he didn’t deserve it.
Wallowing and allowing a release of this ache was for someone who’d made a mistake. He’d done much worse.