“Why do you think that is?”
He stayed silent for a long time without an answer.
She turned to face him.
“I saw something, Sunny. I found something out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“These demolitions, these resettlements. Their homes are destroyed, their land is taken away, they’re sent off to the edges of Delhi, to waste ground full of mosquitoes, next to garbage dumps, with nothing, no hope, no future. But that’s not all. There are people waiting there for them, goons, terrifying people, pushing them into selling off this little bit of useless land for a handful of rupees. The land that’s being given after forced evictions is being bought up by developers for nothing.”
“So what?”
“I went there. I spoke with people on one of these sites. I was threatened there by some goons. One guy I’ll never forget. I call him Caravaggio. His face is like a grotesque angel. I saw him there at the site and then I saw him somewhere else. And he saw me.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think?”
He didn’t want to say.
“He was coming out of your mansion. He works for your family. And he saw me, and then I got the call to come and meet you.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“What do you mean, no? Why is it so hard to believe? Your family is violence. Your life is violence. You’re violent men.”
“No.”
She started to laugh it was all so absurd. “And now they’re onto me. They’re onto me because they think I’m onto them. But all I did was stumble over it looking for you.”
* * *
—
He had nothing to say. What was there to say anyway? It was the truth and they both knew it.
She closed her eyes and she was asleep before she even had time to see herself falling into the darkness.
* * *
—
She was awoken by three loud knocks on the door.
She guessed she’d only been down a minute.
She was about to speak when she saw Sunny holding his finger to his lips, a revolver in his hand.
She resisted the urge to scream as Sunny crept closer to the door.
“Sir.” Ajay’s voice came from the other side.
Relief spread through the room.
Sunny lowered the gun, opened the door a crack.
“Sir,” Ajay said, “the car is taken care of.”
“Good,” Sunny replied. “Wait downstairs.”
* * *
—
She came to understand as she gathered her things and Sunny watched her in silence that she’d been asleep almost three hours. When she was ready to leave, Sunny held her by the arm.
“What is it?”
“You can’t talk about this to anyone.”
She hesitated, thought it over.
“Who do I have to tell?”
“The guy you work with.”
“You think I want him to know any of this? Where would I even start? But you should know, he’s onto you anyway.”
“There’s nothing he can do.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. But you could do something, you know that? You could just walk away.”
“That’s not realistic.”
“Sunny, whatever dreams you might have, your father is going to destroy them, and he’s going to destroy you. You want to transform Delhi, you want to make the city new, beautiful, you want to show it off to the world. But what does he want?”
He didn’t answer.
“Sunny,” she said, “he’s a man, not a God. If you stay with him, I won’t be there with you. All you have to do is walk away.”
“I can’t,” he said. “That’s suicide.”
* * *
—
Ajay was waiting for her downstairs. He turned his head as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.
“Wait,” he said. “I’ll bring the car.”
Ajay drove with great precision. She watched his hands on the wheel, his knuckles bloodied and swollen. She wondered what he thought. She began to get her story straight. Her car had broken down. She had taken a lift with friends. Her parents probably wouldn’t even ask. They were like that. But as she neared home, she felt more scared.
“Ajay,” she said.
“Yes, madam.”
“Thank you.”
“Madam,” he said, “your car will be ready tomorrow.”
* * *
—
Outside her house, Ajay turned to face her.
“Madam,” he said, the engine ticking over.
“Yes?”
“He’s a good man.”