She talked about leaving Rohit. Not often, not dramatically. In the quiet moments — after, when we'd lie on my terrible mattress and listen to the sea through the open window and pretend that the world was just this room. "Someday," she'd say. "When I'm ready." And I'd say, "No rush," and I'd mean it and also not mean it, because I wanted her to leave him and I also knew that leaving would destroy her in a way that staying never would.
Now. The night.
Rohit invited me to the party. This surprised me — I'd assumed he didn't know. But the invitation was warm, personal, extended in person when he came to my cottage unannounced. He sat in my living room — the same room where his wife and I had — and he smiled and offered an invitation, and every instinct I had screamed that something was wrong.
I told Meera. She said, "He doesn't know. He's just being social. Rohit invites everyone to everything — it's a control thing. He fills rooms with people so he doesn't have to be alone with anyone."
I wasn't convinced. But I went. Because not going would be suspicious, and because — I'll be honest — I wanted to see her. Even in a room full of people, even across the distance of a public event, I wanted to be in the same space as her. That's what love does to you. It makes you stupid in specific, targeted ways.
The party was at Villa Saudade. I arrived at 9 PM. The house was beautiful — I'd never been inside; Meera had always come to me. Seeing the house, the terrace, the view of the ocean — seeing the stage set of her marriage — made me feel like a trespasser in a way the affair itself never had.
Meera was radiant. White dress, hair down, moving through the crowd like she owned it. She caught my eye once — a quarter-second glance that held more than a three-hour conversation — and then looked away. Professional. Careful.
At 10 PM, something happened that I didn't expect.
Kavya pulled me aside. Into a corridor, away from the party. She was direct — Kavya is always direct, it's her most terrifying quality.
"I know about you and Meera," she said.
"Meera told you?"
"Meera tells me everything. That's what best friends are for." She paused. "I also know that Rohit knows. He's been having you followed for three weeks. He has photographs."
My stomach dropped. "He knows?"
"He knows. And he's planning something tonight. I don't know what, but I know him — when Rohit feels betrayed, he doesn't explode. He calculates. Whatever he's planning, it's not spontaneous."
"I need to warn Meera."
"No." Kavya's hand on my arm. Firm. "If you warn Meera, she'll confront him, and the confrontation will happen publicly, which is exactly what he wants. The humiliation is the weapon. Don't give it to him."
"Then what?"
"Leave. Quietly. Before whatever he's planned can happen. I'll handle Meera."
I should have listened. I should have walked out the door, driven back to Vagator, and waited for the storm to pass. That's what a rational person would have done.
But I wasn't rational. I was in love, and love makes you brave in exactly the ways that get people killed.
