She Lived Twice

7 || The Annoying Aunt Inquiry

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Nisha thought nervously, pacing her bedroom. She wanted to tell Rajesh to stop this search immediately, but Rajesh hadn't returned from the investigator's office yet, and his phone was unreachable. 

Yuvaan sauntered down the hall to his bedroom after a long day at the firm. It was when he passed his parents' room, he caught sight of nervous Nisha. "Mom? All okay?" he asked, stepping inside.

Nisha stopped moving and looked over at her son. She sighed with disappointment. "Yes, it's nothing." 

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Yuvaan remarked, gently holding his mother by the shoulders and sitting her on the bed. Nisha exhaled and caressed Yuvaan's cheeks. "I'm okay. How was your day at work? Did you eat after coming home?" 

"Don't dodge me, Mom. What happened? Is it about Anika?" Yuvaan guessed. Nisha sighed in exhaustion before nodding. "Your father thinks he has a lead on Anika's past." 

"That's great!" Yuvaan exclaimed. "Why are you so bummed out about it?" 

Nisha looked up at her son with unshed tears. "I don't want her to find out. What if she doesn't want to live with us anymore? What if the truth is just so horrible that it makes her hate us? What if..." Nisha trailed off. Yuvaan held her hand, encouraging her to go on. "What if we lose her, Yuvi?" 

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This must be the house, then, Bhavya thought as she pressed the doorbell. It was strange, considering the bungalow before her. After looking at some bills and taxing records, it was indeed true that the Chaturvedi family hadn't been financially stable. Looking at the working records near Anika's former home address, Bhavya had also been able to deduce that Anika had three jobs. 

It was evident that Anika had been paying the bills for her family, and now that she was gone, Bhavya suspected that Anika's only living relative would be in shambles or at least incredibly uncomfortable. But, the large yellow house was far from what Bhavya had been expecting. It seemed that Anika's aunt was thriving. 

But from where did this accomodated wealth come from? Bhavya added it to her list of questions to ask Sundari Chaturvedi whenever she had the pleasure of meeting the woman.

"I don't do charity, I'm not interested in switching to solar panels, and I don't want to convert religions. Go away!" a small voicebox shouted. Bhavya peered over at the tiny speaker at the foot of the door amusedly. This woman seemed to be quite the social butterfly. Rolling her eyes, Bhavya went to press the doorbell again when the door suddenly opened, revealing a rather...plump woman. 

She was around the age of 50, decked in a loud red salwar kameez, fresh henna on her hands. Her face was caked with makeup and her black hair sat atop her head like a wig. She scowled down at Bhavya. 

"Are you Ms. Sundari Chaturvedi?" 

"Yes. Why are you still here?" she snapped. "I am Agent Bhavya Pratap Rathore of the—" 

"Yadda yadda yah, I don't really care. Go bother someone else!" the woman said, preparing to slam the door. But Bhavya's reflexes were faster. It only took a moment for her to jut her foot out and prevent the door from closing. "I am here to talk about Ms. Anika." 

The woman's face paled, and she stared at Bhavya for a moment. "Anika?" 

"The girl who was under your legal care for ten years?"

"Who are you? How do you know about Anika?" Sundari questioned. "I'm a private investigator, and for now, the only questions being answered are mine." 

Bhavya watched as Sundari gulped and smiled nervously. "Care to come in?" 

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"She went missing two years ago. I don't know why you've showed up at my door all of a sudden to ask me about that grubby little orphan, madamji." Sundari rolled her eyes. 

"Please just answer my questions, Ms. Chaturvedi. How long did she live with you?" 

"From about the age of twelve. My brother picked her up off the street when she was a baby. Him and his wife raised her and their son until they died. Then, those two brats were my responsibility." 

"How old was her brother when they began living with you?" 

"Four. But I told him the truth about how his parents died when he was five."

"You told a five-year-old the details of his parents' death?" Bhavya raised an eyebrow. 

"I thought he ought to know. I didn't want him to think he was my kid. He cried for days, I couldn't sleep! And you'd think his sister would know how to shut him up, but no! She just cried, too. Thankfully, the older ones are less noisy about it or I wouldn't have had a moment of peace in that hou—" 

"Okay, that's enough. What were the living conditions in your old home?" Bhavya asked her next question, despite the boiling anger that was rising within her. Why didn't her training ever prepare for these types of infuriating subjects? Well, they did. But none were ever quite as infuriating as this woman. 

"It was a chawl. What do you expect, Ma'am? Do you want me to tell you that we sat on golden toilets and had our own private chef? It rained all the time, the roof leaked. We had buckets for that." 

"Were there any structural hazards, unfit for children?" 

"There were cracks in the floorboards. The water was only on for one hour each day. Electricity went out every other night." 

"Did the kids have to study in the dark?" 

Sundari scrunched up her face at the question. "Of course, they did. That Anika begged me for candles every time the lights went out." 

"I can't believe I have to ask this," Bhavya mumbled, "but did you give them to her?" 

"Not familiar with poverty, are you? You wanted me to hand the child a 30 rupee candle to burn for three hours just to read a book? Does money just grow on trees for you people?" Sundari asked, outraged. 

"Ms. Chaturvedi, calm down. I'm trying my best to have a civil conversation. Now, can I ask my next question?" Bhavya asked as calmly as she could. 

"Are you aware that Ms. Anika got married some time before her alleged disappearance?" 

Sundari scowled in distaste. "A precise day before. Came home that night in a lehenga and heavy gold jewelry. Wouldn't answer any of my questions. That Sahil asked her why she was in that ridiculous getup and then she broke down crying." 

"Do you know who her husband was?" 

Sundari thought for a moment. Not of the actual person himself, but whether or not she should tell this police officer the truth. "Please tell me everything that you know." 

Deciding that the truth was the safest option, Sundari grinned proudly. "Shivaay Singh Oberoi." 

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