Chapter 8: Proof and Poison

Arjun had a cold those days, and I commuted daily between home and the company to bring him decocted ayurvedic medicine.

The Lucknow streets were busy as always—hawkers calling out, rickshaws honking, cows meandering along the median. I clutched the flask of hot kadha, mind numb with exhaustion.

When I was downstairs at the company, a little boy suddenly darted out and bumped into me, making me stagger back and almost fall.

His head hit the chain of my bag, and he burst into tears.

Neha Sinha came over with a cold face, scooping the boy into her arms.

"Mrs. Mehra, what did my nephew do to upset you, that you take it out on a child?"

The accusation stung. The boy’s wails grew louder, drawing glances from the security guards at the gate.

I looked at the little boy—his features were strikingly similar to Arjun's.

"Your nephew?"

Neha Sinha gave a barely perceptible mocking smile.

"Yes, my nephew. He's a poor child, Mrs. Mehra, please don't bully him."

Her tone was syrupy-sweet, but her eyes flashed with challenge. The receptionist by the lift pretended to be busy, but her ears strained for gossip.

I asked again, "Why is he pitiful?"

Neha Sinha sighed, "This child, for now, can't recognise his real parents, and can't go home. Wouldn't you say that's pitiful?"

I nodded. "That is indeed pitiful."

She looked at me, then smiled.

"But his father loves him very much. To protect his rights, he did a paternity test early on—so you could say he's very thoughtful."

The words hung in the air, heavy as monsoon clouds.

I patted the boy's head and smiled:

"He looks very smart."

His big eyes blinked at me, tear tracks shining on his cheeks. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to have my own child.

I brought the medicine to the general manager's office and found my second uncle's whole family inside.

Unlike my father-in-law, who went into business, my second uncle's family took another path. Over the years, husband, wife, and two sons all became leaders in various government departments.

The Mehra family supports each other and grows together.

The air inside was thick with the scent of aftershave and new files. Voices drifted out from inside.

"Arjun, your second uncle's family's assets are all under your name. You can't let us down."

"Second uncle, let's be clear—this money was invested in my name because you were afraid of negative impact, not because I asked for it."

Arjun's voice was hoarse.

The cold had dragged on for a long time, still not better.

I pushed the door open.

Arjun frowned as soon as he saw me.

"I told you not to bring the medicine. I have important projects and no time for slow recovery. Did you buy the cefalexin?"

His words were sharp, and he coughed several times.

I set the medicine and cefalexin on the table. "Though ayurvedic medicine works slowly, it has fewer side effects."

Just then, Arjun's phone rang, and he went to the window to answer it.

I turned and greeted my second uncle and aunt.

They nodded coldly, not even looking at me.

But my two cousins spoke up with sarcasm:

"Bhabhi, your brother still hasn't woken up?"

"Spending money like water every day—all from Mehra Pharmaceuticals. Is it really necessary to keep supporting him?"

"Honestly, in that state, we all think living is worse than dying."

Their words were like chilly wind, cutting through the forced civility in the room. I clenched my jaw and tried to keep my hands steady.

I silently poured a glass of water, walked over to Arjun, and handed him the medicine first.

He took it absentmindedly and put it in his mouth.

I handed him the water.

He tilted his head back and swallowed.

I said, "Arjun, don't drink alcohol tonight after taking cefalexin."

He ignored me, still on the phone.

I repeated, louder, my voice drowning out his call.

"Arjun, you just took the medicine—remember tonight—"

"Enough."

Arjun turned on me angrily. "Can't you see I'm on the phone? Get out!"

I flinched and left in embarrassment.

At the door, I heard my aunt laugh.

"She really can't read the room. No wonder she's so annoying."

Their laughter followed me down the corridor, stinging more than any slap. Even the peon outside the office avoided my gaze.