She crossed the lobby to the waiting area. It was done up like the living room of a luxury apartment—she could detect Sunny’s hand. There were cream leather easy chairs, a sofa, a low mahogany table covered with glass, full of magazines and brochures. Water ran through the whole lobby in small channels, trees and plants like a jungle. She took one of the easy chairs. A boy came out of nowhere carrying a tray with a single glass of water. He asked if she wanted tea or coffee. A snack? She took the water and nothing else and waited. There was a TV on the side wall. It switched on, as if by magic. She swung her chair to watch it. It played a promotional video—Sunny, wearing a power suit, addressing the camera. Behind him, superimposed images of luxury flats at regular intervals.
* * *
—
The video was twenty minutes long. She watched it twice, frowning at Sunny’s banal appearance and unimaginative speech, before she approached the reception desk to ask how long she would have to wait. It was almost 5:30; she couldn’t wait much longer. The man made a call.
“He’s just coming,” he said at the end of it. “Please, take a seat.”
She returned to the easy chair.
Don’t close your eyes, she told herself.
It’s only for a minute, she said.
* * *
—
“Ma’am?”
The receptionist was standing over her. She opened her eyes, sat up in panic.
“I’m awake.”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid we’re closing the office, you’ll have to leave.”
“What time is it?” She looked around.
“Ma’am, you’ll have to leave.”
It was dark outside.
“What time is it?”
“Seven forty-five.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Seriously? Where the hell is Sunny?”
She was getting agitated.
“I’m afraid Mr. Wadia had some business.”
“No!”
She got up out of the seat, began to look around wildly.
She looked for the security cameras, spoke into them.
“This is bullshit!”
“Ma’am, please mind your language.”
“Go fuck yourself!” She looked into the cameras. “Sunny! You fucking prick!”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
He waved over two security guards.
* * *
—
She stood out in the parking lot beside her car. The guards were waiting for her to drive away. She looked up at the building, trying to see which lights were on. This was not a joke. She felt terrorized. She fished out her phone and dialed the number of the man who’d called her—the electronic voice told her the phone was turned off. She looked at the phone. “Asshole!” Then she got into her car and started the engine and sped away in anger, and suddenly she felt very alone.
* * *
—
She drove onto the highway—there was nothing there, the road was unlit and desolate at this hour, the men handing out brochures, selling dreams, had long since packed up and gone. She knew she shouldn’t be out here. The roads weren’t safe. There were carjackings all the time. She cursed herself for being so dumb. She drove along the highway toward Delhi, eyes open, adrenaline running. The absence of other cars unnerved her.
* * *
—
About fifteen kilometers along she realized there was a vehicle behind her at some distance. It had its full-beam headlights on. Maybe half a kilometer away. She kept a steady pace, continued to check the vehicle in the rearview mirror. It seemed to keep distance, whether she sped up or slowed down, too far to be anything other than a set of headlights, too close to be ignored. Five kilometers passed.
“Fuck you, Sunny.”
She finally reached the stretch of highway close to Noida where the streetlights worked. She sped; several cars appeared around the service roads and joined the highway, there was normal life again. In the rearview mirror she saw many headlights and couldn’t distinguish the ones she was sure had been following her. She felt idiotic. Sunny was an asshole, that was all. Right?
* * *
—
She decided to cross the Yamuna early at the Kalindi Kunj Bridge, and when she reached the other side of it and entered Delhi she felt an enormous weight lift. Her stomach unknotted, she was light and giddy. She started to laugh out of sheer nervousness. She decided she’d tell Dean everything, lay it all out from start to finish, explain how she’d drifted so far and vow to fix it. She entered the empty streets, the industrial units either side. She’d forget Sunny and all his games. She crossed a junction.