Dil Beparwah | ✔

twelve

||CHAPTER 12||
《¤》

┊V A R U N┊

The dishes were piling up and the marble slab was a mess. I've got no clue how Mihir managed to make me the most scrumptious, homely scrambled eggs. Part of the reason why I'd asked him to come over was because I knew he'd make me breakfast, just like he did when we were room mates.

While he sat in the living room, adjusting to the intel I had on M&J and Adrija, I dumped my plate in the sink and grabbed a lighter and the ashtray on my way back. We were silent for a few moments. And when the smoke from my cigarette wafted in front of us, Mihir let out a deep sigh.

"Kya soch raha hai?" I found myself ask, now pulling the chair out of the table and seating myself before him again. Mihir scrunched his brows from my cigarette, and I just shrugged nonchalantly.

"I... don't know what to think, to be honest."

I took yet another drag from the smoke now, wondering how to phrase my next statement, "Sunn."

Mihir nodded.

"Tujhe... shayad idea ho hi gaya hoga ki... ki this whole analysis for M&J took a lot of research and-"

"-and you want to publish this." He completed flatly.

I was not one to beat around the bush. "I want to, but I won't unless it is okay with you." Silence followed for the next couple of seconds, until I quickly added, "But here's the thing Mihir. If BizNest doesn't cover this piece, some other media house definitely will. So even if you say no to my publishing it, you're only deferring this news."

Mihir gazed at me warily, his palms now folding before his chest defensively. "Kehna kya chahta hai tu?"

I rubbed the cigarette butt on the ashtray hurriedly, arranging my thoughts with caution, "Agar maine yeh publish kiya, tujhe pata hoga exactly kya publish hone wala hai. But if some other media house gets this lead, you'll be in the dark."

I half expected Mihir to snap at me that instant, and part of me felt terrible for even pushing him like that. But I was a journalist, and being persuasive was kind of in my job profile and everything that I had just said to him was nothing but the truth.

"Let me think about it." Mihir responded at last.

And acknowledging our equation that I had so cherished in all these years, I replied by saying something I had never said to anybody before, "Take your time."

Mihir let out a deep sigh. He was conflicted–the guy had been in love with her ever since I knew him-and that's a very long time. I sorta felt guilty for shedding the clearance light on the fog that was Adrija Mujherjee, but at the end of the day it was Adrija Mukherjee, and no matter how pissed he might be, Mihir was worried about her.

Love was seemingly, strangely, falsely, delusional. Or maybe it was just me. I wasn't really quintessential when it came to relationships if my past was to account for it. My eyes drifted towards the small frame on the book shelf. I didn't have it in me to replace the photograph, so I had tucked one above it. I took another drag of the smoke.

My phone lit up with an email notification at the same time Mihir spoke. "Waise... kal shaam ko free hai?"

Mihir wasn't the type to go get drunk to mend a heart break, so if he was asking that, it must be something important. "Nothing I can't reschedule. Kya hai, bol." It was fifteen minutes to noon when my phone screen went dark again. Had Arvika mailed her list of prudish objections? It was fun imagining that she thought she could really have the choice of objecting to what I wanted to publish. Dealing with air-heads was fun.