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Chapter 5
She called the boy for the fourth time, but once again, it went unanswered. Had something happened to him too? She should at least have asked him where he lived while she had had the chance. After all, what if they really were the only two people left alive? A few minutes ago, the rising sense of betrayal in her heart had seemed more urgent than the catastrophe that had struck the world outside, and so she had directed her anger towards a helpless and scared boy and cut him off. Now, she felt guilty.
She picked up her phone again determinedly and began re-dialling the boy’s number, but then a sudden thought crossed her mind and made her sit upright. Hadn’t the boy said that he found her number in Vinod’s old phone? Why then, wouldn’t Vinod’s new phone have the boys’ phone number saved too? She rushed into her bedroom to look for Vinod’s phone that she had seen in the morning, placed on his bedside table along with his wallet.
She dialled the boys’ number into it and waited as the phone processed through its contacts. And then, “Mrs. Bakshi” flashed on the screen. Vinod had saved the boy’s number as Mrs. Bakshi! Was she the boy’s mother and … erm, Vinod’s partner? Manorama felt her throat close up at this thought. The name sounded vaguely familiar to her but she couldn’t place who Mrs. Bakshi was and if she, Manorama, had ever met her. Was she Vinod’s colleague, client or relative? Or …
Manorama checked the call log and found that Vinod had made his last call to the number at precisely 11:36 p.m. last night. When Manorama had been asleep. Was Vinod waiting for her to go to sleep, while he pretended to play video games on his phone, so that he could call Mrs. Bakshi? Her shoulders dropped and she began crying. It seemed unreal. Malicious stuff like this either made for city gossip or happened only in books and movies. Why was it happening to her? She had never checked Vinod’s phone before, had never felt the need to. They had been married for twelve years, had had two kids together – she couldn’t even dream of him betraying her like this. He was her rock and his anonymous relationship with this other woman was shaking the very foundations of her life. With tears dripping down her face, she checked his messages. She found that he had received the same message every day, from Mrs. Bakshi. It said, “Check mail.”
Vinod never brought his office work at home. He separated his professional and personal life brilliantly and until now, she had loved him for it. But now suspicious thoughts clouded her mind and she doubted the motive behind his every action. She wondered if he didn’t get his work laptop home only to keep these emails that Mrs. Bakshi sent him, safe and away from her knowledge.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Manorama vowed to get to the bottom of this. She picked up both their phones, locked the door of her house – momentarily wondering at the futility of it – and marched out of the building. She got inside her car and drove down to her husband’s office. She had to get her hands on his laptop; she had to read these emails that Mrs. Bakshi sent him every day. Maybe they could lead her to the boy, as well.
Her car sped down the road. The empty streets and the deserted city screamed for her attention, but she knew she’d lose her mind if she worried about anything else right now. For now, she wanted only to focus on getting Vinod’s laptop and try to locate the boy.
She reached Vinod’s office and walked inside. But someone had already been there, someone who didn’t have the key and the authorisation to enter, for the glass door had been smashed. Her heart beat rapidly. Did this mean there were people other than herself and the boy, alive in the city? Suddenly, she turned around, sensing a slow movement behind her. But it was quiet as before. Very carefully then, she stepped inside the shattered glass door and walked into Vinod’s dimly lit office. To her surprise, all his drawers had been pulled out, and his files lay scattered about the floor, as if someone had been hurriedly searching for something. She noticed the cupboard, where Vinod kept his laptop, cash and confidential files and moved towards it, but as soon as she opened it, he called to her.
‘Manorama,’ he whispered. ‘I knew you’d come.’
As she turned around, her heart sank.
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Chapter 1 by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
Chapter 2 by Sumira Khan
Chapter 3 by Krusha Sahjwani
Chapter 4 by Sandeepa Mukherjee
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