Abhijat held out the glass, embarrassed. As she poured him a drink, her lips quirked into a wistful smile.
“I could never thank you enough, all of you, for everything you’ve done. Without you, I’d have lost everything; my home, my daughter.” Her eyes flicked over to Milli. “Perhaps even my free will.”
“Well, you know…” Fasih shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly at a loss for words. Unbidden laughter rose to Abhijat’s lips, forcing him to look away. “What’re neighbors for?”
“Besides,” Ruqaiya interjected, leaning forward. “It wasn’t all neighborly goodwill and the spirit of brotherhood. Some of it was pure self-interest. The former president’s trade policies weren’t exactly what you’d call fair–”
“Predatory, if we’re being nice about it,” Fasih said cheerfully.
Ivanovna nodded. “Yes, I understand your concerns. But I promise you, those days are behind us. I’m looking forward to starting on a fresh note, forging a better and stronger alliance between our countries–”
“And getting rid of our ever-widening trade deficit with Maralana,” Ruqaiya nodded solemnly.
“And that,” Ivanovna laughed. “Lowering tariff rates on Naijani imports will be at the top of my to-do list after the election.”
“Not that working out a mutually beneficial relationship between our countries will be hard at all.” Sokolov remarked, glancing between Ivanovna and Fasih. “What with such capable leaders helming both nations.”
“You’re right,” Jehan nodded, swallowing a mouthful of wine. “Capable leaders, that’s what we need.”
“If by capable you mean lightweight.” Ruqaiya smirked, watching Fasih wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Half a glass of the fizzies and you’re already halfway under the table.”
Fasih rolled his eyes. “By capable, I mean Rajat Shian. It’s something about the Shians, you know. They have the–” he snapped his fingers. “Gravitas. Yep. That’s the word I’m looking for. Anyway, they have it. Rajat certainly does. Maganti would never have dared slam him against a wall.”
“Jehan,” Ruqaiya said, her voice soft.
Fasih held up a hand. “My point is, he’s the real prime minister. I’m just a temporary placeholder, I always was.” He smiled brightly at his slack-jawed audience. “Obviously, I’d been misled into thinking that Rajat was corrupt, when it was really Badal and Rinisa pulling the strings in parliament all along.”
“Yes, of course,” Ivanovna said, a hesitant smile on her lips. “We all know that now. Grigori had moles inside the Naijani government–”
“And now he’s gone!” Jehan beamed. “Which is why, it’s time for me to step down as prime minister – rectify past wrongs, unburden my soul…all the good stuff.
“Politics doesn’t suit me, anyway. I’m just a simple academic at heart. Rajat is so much better suited to negotiating tariff cuts and all the other boring policy stuff.”
“And you were just in it for the excitement of getting kidnapped and held at gunpoint, I suppose?” Abhijat shook his head, something unclenching in his chest.
Fasih pressed a hand to his throat. “I knew you’d understand me.”
“Rajat Shian, of course, is a respected leader and a great statesman.” Ivanovna smiled. “I look forward to seeing him again, and hopefully working with him in the future, for the betterment of both our countries.”
“Very diplomatic,” Ruqaiya said, eyeing Fasih with some combination of wariness and admiration. “Now, if I could just have another drink–”
“You can have as many as you want.” Rito held out the half-empty bottle of wine. “But only if I get to invite Milli to Naijan for my birthday next month.”
Ruqaiya frowned. “Your birthday’s the month after the next. On the very last day of the month after the next.”
“Yes, but birthday shopping begins the month before the actual birthday.”
Eri meowed in agreement. Rito patted her on the head.
“The cat agrees.” Fasih chuckled. “It’s a date! Uh, I mean, a state visit.”
Abhijat closed his eyes, letting their voices and laughter sink into his bones. They were all still here – alive, safe, happy...
Victorious.
–– The End ––
A Note to Readers
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Thank you so much for reading The Brightest Fell. I hope you enjoyed it!
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Nupur Chowdhury.
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Copyright © 2019 by Nupur Chowdhury
Edited by Ritarekha Dutta and Ipshita Hazra
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