Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Diya began to get quieter ten minutes in and I wasn’t surprised when she yawned and snuggled into me. Putting my arm around her, I glanced over at Shumi, who was also looking heavy eyed.
Good, maybe the other woman would sleep through the worst of the crash and we could all be fresh in the morning when we had to face the confronting truth.
I wasn’t feeling exactly wide-awake myself, but I didn’t want to leave Shumi alone, and she was still fighting sleep. So I kept on watching Auntie Seema try to match these men and women who…
…humming.
Someone was humming.
Mouth dry, I tried to lift my lids, but they felt sticky and heavy. It was the hint of smoke in the air that kicked my adrenaline into overdrive, giving me enough strength to push those damn lids up.
Disoriented, I stared at the blank television screen.
One of the women must’ve turned it off, I thought dully, before realizing I couldn’t see either of them. And the room was pitch-dark except for the red power light on the television, and what little light fell through the windows from what felt like a strangely large moon.
Humming.
It stopped. Words came through, fuzzy and barely understandable, with patches cutting in and out, as if my brain was a radio that couldn’t hold on to a signal.
“…lied for you…let Bobby…always.” A grunt. “Don’t you know?”
The humming started up again.
I recognized it now. Shumi. That was the song Shumi had been humming while she made the chai. Was she in the kitchen making more things? Diya had said she cooked compulsively when grieving.
But when I looked toward the kitchen, it was to see that it, too, was dark.
“Diya?” It came out weak and near-silent.
Shoving up off the sofa, I tried to get to my feet. My knees collapsed under me, pain shooting through my kneecaps.
Smoke.
Curling on the carpet, licking its way into my air passages.
I coughed and began to crawl frantically toward that humming sound. With each little foot of space, I gained more of my strength. “Diya!” Louder this time, before smoke-induced coughing took over.
When I stopped coughing, I realized the humming was gone, the world silent.
My heart punched in my rib cage. “Shumi? Diya?”
The smoke was thicker now, a fog through which I could no longer see. I knew I should turn, smash out that big window with the view, and get outside—but not without my wife.
More strength in my body now, I crawled faster.
I saw her foot first. With that yellow nail polish on her toes that she’d put on with patient care last week. It had taken her a while, since she couldn’t sit bent over for long periods, the position causing pain to internal organs that weren’t yet back to normal.
But when I grabbed on to her foot, there was no response. “Diya!” Telling myself it was fine, that she was still warm, I quickly made my way to the top of her body, where I could check her breathing.
“Thank God.” She was alive, her respiration even. “Come on, baby, we have to get out.” Even as I struggled to sit up so I could drag her out, I yelled out for Shumi.
Nothing. And the smoke was growing thicker.
I fumbled for my phone, input 911, only to realize I’d fucked up. I was in New Zealand. My chest spasmed with the urge to cough as I canceled the call and input the correct local number for emergency services: 111.
Dropping the phone to the carpet on speaker, I got my hands under Diya. “Fire!” I yelled at the operator when she answered, blurting out the address straight after.
I didn’t hear what she said in response. I had a firm grip on Diya now, was able to move her. “Shumi!”
“Why are you awake?” A very confused-sounding question.
Chapter 74
Shumi
Shumi sat inside a café on the opposite side of the road from the café where Diya and Violet had taken a seat outside, beneath the spreading branches of a leafy tree. Diya smiled up at the server who’d just delivered them their coffees.
A double-shot latte with soy milk.
That was Diya’s order, had been for years except for when she wanted something more decadent and decided to go for a mochaccino.
Shumi didn’t know Violet’s usual order and didn’t really care.
Taking a sip of her own spicy chai latte—it wasn’t real chai, but it would do—she watched as Diya laughed at something Violet had said. Shumi’s stomach clenched at the light in her best friend’s face, at how she chattered so brightly to Violet.
Diya was pulling away from her again.
She’d thought it was over after Kalindra decided to move to Wellington before things got bad enough that Shumi had to act, but now Violet was here and they were constantly texting and calling, and Shumi knew that wasn’t good for Diya’s fragile mind and heart.