“Is everything okay, Mrs Sen?”

Madhuri looked at Aditya’s neighbour who had stepped close to her. “No, I’m fine. Sorry, I forgot your name,” she muttered, “it’s been such an evening.”

“No problem, I quite understand what you’re going through. Myself Ramadurai,” he said. He seemed to be in his mid-forties, balding, of average height, with a bulge near his torso. “I’m a stock market consultant.”

Madhuri wondered if Adi knew his neighbour well. When they were together, he used to stay away from all her friends whose spouses had anything to do with finance. Making money out of money is a crime, he would always say. Look how the tables have turned, she thought. Who else but a stock market broker should come to rescue him from his abysmal jump into oblivion? His attempt to jump, she corrected

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