Chapter 10 — Priya Knows

Priya — Two days later. Pune.She found the photograph by accident.Kabir had transferred his conference photos to his laptop in February — she knew about the conference, he had been in Pune for it, she had not because she'd had a family thing in Bhopal. She had not thought about the conference since.She was looking for a photo of his niece's birthday for a family WhatsApp — she was using his laptop because hers was charging in the other room — and the conference folder was open from a previous search, and she was scrolling, and there was a photo she had not taken.It was a candid. Taken by someone else, at what was clearly a conference dinner — the round tables, the formal setup. Kabir in profile, and across from him, a woman. The woman was looking at the camera — not posing, caught mid-expression, mid-laughter at something. Caught being real.The woman was Aanya.She sat very still.She was a person who sat with things before she reacted to them. It was something she had worked on, across thirty years, the pause before the response. She sat with it now.She had known about the conference. She had known he was in Pune. She had not known Aanya was in Pune.She sat with the photograph.She thought about Rishikesh. About the café. About Aanya's face across the table — the quality she had registered and filed: managing something too large for the situation.She thought about dinner — the rajma, the fire, the question she had asked. Do you still love him. And the answer that had been precise and careful and not quite an answer.She thought: what do I actually know?She knew: Kabir had not told her about February. She was certain of this now, looking at this photo, with the specific certainty of a person who had heard a story with a piece missing and has just found the piece.She thought: what did February mean?She thought: what was Aanya carrying?She sat for a long time.Then she called Kabir.He was in a meeting. He texted: in a call, one hour?She put the phone down.She looked at the photograph.She looked at Aanya's face — the laughter, the realness of it, the un-posed quality.She thought: I have spent three days being the best version of myself in a hard situation. I went to Rishikesh. I introduced myself. I asked the honest questions. I was generous.She thought: I deserve the honest answers.She called Aanya.She had taken the number from Kabir's phone when he wasn't looking, in Rishikesh, because she was a thorough person and she had known she might need it and she had been right.It rang four times.Aanya answered: "Priya."Not surprise. Recognition."Yes," Priya said. "I'm calling because I found a photo from a conference in Pune in February. And I need to know what happened."A long pause."I think," Aanya said, "that Kabir should be part of this conversation.""Kabir is not answering right now," Priya said. Her voice was steady. "And I am asking you. Woman to woman. Because you were honest with me at dinner and I think you'll be honest with me now."Another pause."Something happened," Aanya said. "In February. Between Kabir and me. It was not planned and it was — brief. One night. He told me about you. He told me immediately. The next morning I left." She paused. "He loves you. That's not something I'm saying to make you feel better. It's what I saw in Rishikesh — the way he looked at you, the way he talked about you. Whatever happened in February was—I think it was the last thing, not a continuing thing."Priya sat on the couch in their apartment."Were you—" She stopped. She reorganized the sentence. "Is there anything else I should know?"The silence on the other end of the phone was the longest yet.Priya felt, in that silence, the shape of something very large."Priya," Aanya said. Her voice had changed. "I need to ask you something. And I need you to answer me honestly.""Ask.""Do you want to know everything?" Aanya said. "Not as a test. Genuinely — if there is something I am carrying that is — significant. That would change things. Do you want to know?"Priya looked at the photograph.She thought: I am a person who moves toward things."Yes," she said. "I want to know."