She told him about the inquiry on a Tuesday morning. She called him — called, not texted, which was new — and said: "Committee inquiry. Ward seven, nine, and eleven. It's happening."
"I saw the notification," he said. "Congratulations."
"I want to celebrate. Come and have coffee. Not the terrible chemist one."
"I'm not on assignment anymore," he said. The words felt different from how he had expected them to feel.
"I know. Come and have coffee anyway. Because I want to celebrate with someone who understands why it matters, and you understand why it matters."
He came. They had coffee at Raju's, who gave them the corner table without being asked and then found somewhere else to be. Arjun had not seen her in twelve days. The assignment had been formally closed the day after the arrest. She had gone back to her apartment, her office, her life. He had gone back to his. Both of those things were correct and appropriate.
She looked well. The weight that had been in her bearing for weeks — the fear carefully managed, the burden of what she knew — was gone. Not replaced by lightness exactly; she was not a light person by nature. But it was her own weight now, the natural weight of a person who carried their own things rather than things put on them without permission.
"The consultancy is getting new contracts. Three since the report. The municipal work is—" She paused. "It's good. It's what I wanted to be doing."
"I know," he said.
"How is Dev?"
