After changing into loungewear, Aishwarya tried reading, gave up after a page, and wandered into the walk-in. She studied her reflection, reaching first for a lipstick and then settling on lip balm instead.

Brows knitted, she walked back into the dark bedroom, pausing before the French windows still hidden behind heavy drapes. A touch slid the curtains to the edges, and the colourful petunias, along the railing, lifted the pink and grey of the room.

But her eyes caught the knotted balcony swing, still.

She shook her head, maybe on another Sunday.

Moments later, Aishwarya turned the door latch but let it fall back. She kicked her joggers to slip into her Kolhapuris and strode out.

Stepping outside, she tried to remember the names of the two girls skating on the track, but a child walking a poodle distracted her. Maybe I should get one, too, she mused, walking to the end of their wing to grab her morning usual from the club counter.

She waited facing the park with one leg resting against the wall. Nearby, a child squeaked with excitement as his mother struggled to get him into the car while the father stood patiently by the door.

She grimaced at the sight. Is it even worthwhile to embroil in the burden of relationships?

At the far end of the park, children huddled together on the swing.

Thankfully, the takeout and the condo valet arrived.
Aishwarya set her coffee in the holder and pulled out of the driveway for her parlour appointment.

By the time the services ended, a calm smile had settled on her lips.
However, the image of the little boy squeezing between his parents surfaced.

She frowned.
“What happened, ma’am?”

Aishwarya stood in front of the mirror, her eyes squinting. “Umm… hair check, skin check, nails check. Thanks for the lovely eye make-up.”
“You are welcome, Ma’am.”
“Have a good day,” she waved at the staff.

Outside, after adjusting her aviator to soften the harsh sun, she crossed over to the store opposite.

Picked a breezy Zim complementing her Birkin Picnic, knowing the indulgence was worth the Insta post.
She planned to take a selfie, but a family had occupied the lone bench in the arcade.

The father shifted sideways to make room for a stroller while the mother balanced shopping bags on one shoulder.

She walked on, grateful for her freedom.

Back at the parking, as she was taking out her car keys, a voice called out from behind.
“Excuse me.”

Not a voice she recognised.
Aishwarya turned her head slowly, eyebrows raised, eyes half shut. “Yes?”

Dressed in a well-structured linen suit, gelled hair brushed back, a man was swirling her aviator.

“Oh, I left it behind! Thank you so much.” Her pout lingered.
“Sorry if I sound cheesy,” he shifted his weight, “you look stunning in this dress.”
Aishwarya smiled. He reciprocated, his teeth in a straight line.
“Were you at the store?” She asked.
Nodding his head up and down, he replied, “Yes, Ma’am.”
He smacked his lips, “I was there to buy a gift, but you already bought the best piece!”
“For someone special?”
He nodded again. “My GF. If you are not in a rush, may I request you to help me choose a gift?”
Removing a few strands from her neck, she said, “Ok. Let’s go to Sacai.”

He shrugged.

“By the way, I am Ranveer. Friends call me Ro,” he said, sticking his hand out.
“Aishwarya.” She clasped his palms for a handshake.

He leaned forward, extending his right arm, “After you, Ma’am.”

At the shop, Ro was immediately drawn to the Art Deco sofa.
“Oh, you also like vintage furniture?” Ash asked him.
Ro threw an appreciative glance, his hand gliding through the rich green leather. “I’ll show you some of my prized stuff.”
Ash strutted inside. After about half an hour, she concluded it was best to buy an assortment of small gifts.

You will not go wrong with these accessories, perfumes, and glasses. She is sure to like a few of these...”
“Hmm, but right now I can only think of food. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” Ash grinned.
“There are lots of interesting places around. Give me a moment, please,” he said, stepping aside to make a call.

From a distance, he looked at her and called out, “Sushi at the Table?”
She made a thumbs-up sign.

In the lift, Ro shared his preferences. “Japanese and Korean are my favourites.”
“Same. I’ll also add Thai,” Ash gushed, lowering her voice.

Even though it was well past lunchtime, the restaurant was quite full.

“The terrace is nice in the evenings; for now, let’s be at the bar.” Ro guided her, waving at the staff.
Ro was proving to be an unexpectedly good addition to the afternoon. He seemed pleasant enough. Good taste, good manners, well-dressed.

Ash, half-smiling, looked around.

An elderly man nearby sat in silence over untouched plates, while laughter broke out from a table behind them.
Behind Ro, four girls were wolfing down nigiri rolls between giggles.

They placed their orders, and Ro began to show pictures of vintage furniture designs on his phone.
Drinks in hand, they moved to the terrace, when the fairy lights twinkled against the deep blue sky.

“I didn’t realise how time flew by,” Ash exclaimed.
She couldn’t remember the last time a day had disappeared in conversation.

“Oh yeah, it’s quite late. Alas, I will never know how the story ended with your Korean client.” Ro rued half-jokingly.

“Aww, why don’t you stop by for a nightcap? After all, you can take the bypass for the ring road.”
“I am game!” Ro grinned.

He stood still at the entryway of her apartment.
“What happened? Come inside.” Ash tilted her head.
“Ahem,” Ro cleared his throat, “I mean, a white living room! It’s a dream.”
Ash burst out laughing, her hair cascading below her shoulder. “Relax, and tell me what you would like?”
Uh, Evian. Give me a house tour, please.”
Ash smiled ear to ear. “My kitchen is also white with sage accents!”

For an accidental encounter, he turned out to be remarkably easy company. Some stay in touch afterwards. Most don’t.

She started with the study. “This is my creative corner. And its tiny balcony holds the best view.”

Ro laughed, seeing the master bedroom. “Oh, this giant bolster pillow is a no-no.”
“Ah, it’s my night companion,” Aishwarya puckered.

They lingered in the doorway of the bedroom longer than necessary.

The conversation faltered for the first time all day.

Neither moved.

Ro’s attention had drifted from the room to her.

Aishwarya flinched, wishing he’d look away.

She drew in a breath.

He put his index finger gently against her lips.

The next morning, the scent of his cologne still lingered on the pillow.

But Monday has no space for feelings. Work week had started with the comfort of predictability.

Sharp at nine, Aishwarya was at her desk, jotting down the points she would address at the meeting. She preferred entering a room already knowing each answer before the first question was even asked.

Shortly, Julie, her secretary, came into her office with a notebook. “Ash, this is the list of critical clients, and Bhoras Group has sent a reminder. It...”

Aishwarya pressed her lips to conceal her smile.
“Wh... what is so funny?” Julie’s voice faltered.
“Nothing at all, continue.” Usually, memories of weekend chance meetings faded by Wednesday.

Indeed, she kept busy and even had to study a few plans until late in the night.
At the end of the next day, Charlie was walking with her to the parking lot.
“You know, it’s a select gathering, nothing fancy. Please take out some time.” He said as she got in her car.
“You have told Julie, right?” She had pressed the engine on.
He nodded, adding, “I know you barely get time beyond your business commitments.”

Her eyes were on the road, manoeuvring the wheel. Ro is the committed one. The onus is his.

The next day, Julie reminded, “Ash, you have an on-site meeting on Ring Road.”
Aishwarya looked at her as soon as she heard the address. Julie was saying something. Aishwarya already knew she would have to dress well…

On Saturday, the concierge had received a package on her behalf.

Aishwarya opened the fragrant note, tucked in the bouquet of lilies.

She smiled despite herself. Weekends weren’t supposed to follow her into weekdays.

Placing her hand on her heart, she reread the note.
You didn’t leave my head- Ro.

The mornings are still chilly. Mani pulled her blanket closer.

Her Naga shawl on the chair was a step away from the bed. She swiftly picked it up and snuggled back into bed. Ahh, so much better.

It was only seven, another hour to cosy up, but fragments of conversations floated in through the door.

Is everyone okay?

She got up with a jump. The heavy shawl, half wrapped around her neck, dragged behind as she walked into her parents’ conversation.

After setting the electric kettle to boil, she headed to freshen up.

Mani was cupping her hand under the running tap when the doorbell rang. She splashed water on her face and half-ran towards the keyholder.

While tossing the key from the window to her maid, she noticed the garbage collector waiting by the neighbour’s door.

Mani quickly set the tea to brew and collected the dry flowers from the vases to throw in the wastebasket.

“Ruku, don’t forget to ask if he’ll collect the cartons tomorrow,” Mani reminded her maid.

Mani served tea to her elderly parents.

“Where is your tea?” her mother asked.

“Coming, coming… putting the milk to boil.”

No sooner had Mani returned to the kitchen than the doorbell went off again.

“Ruku, see who it is,” she yelled, sliding the ladle into the milk vessel.

“Didi, Mustafa is here,” Ruku came running in, grabbing a few cane baskets.

Mani switched off the gas stove to see what her vendor had brought.

“Take back the cauliflower, Mustafa. Why did you bring such a big one?”

“He he, I’ll take it back.”

“Mani, I can’t find my glasses. Check the dresser.” Rumbled her father.

Mani continued to stand at the doorway, discussing the veggie prices. Finally, she fetched a 500 note from the locker.

“Mani, my glasses.”

“Here,” handing the money to Mustafa, Mani went inside to fetch her father’s glasses.

“Let me also give you the eye drops,” she told her father.

“At least have your tea,” her mother coaxed.

The doorbell rang.

The cook had arrived.

Mani began sorting the fresh vegetables for lunch, estimating proportions, when the bell went off again.

“Where is Ruku?” her mother grumbled as Mani peeped out of the window to see the visitor.

It was Satyan.

“Ah, Didi, please come down. I am trimming the bougainvillaea bush.”

Mani poured a cup of tea and put it in the microwave. “Ok, give me a minute.”

Her father looked at Mani absentmindedly as he struggled to manage the newspaper pages.

Mani dashed down the stairs. In the background, her mother was asking for something.

By the time she returned, the tea had grown cold. She reset the microwave timer.

“Oh Mani, give me the peas. I’ll shell them and have your tea,” her mother said.

“Yes, okay.”

The doorbell rang.

Mani picked up the key but saw Ruku with the dusting cloth.

“Did you clean with Colin? Go, bring the snack boxes; the Muri lady is here.”

“Didi,” the cook called.

“I am coming. Curdle the milk. It’s time for breakfast,” Mani shouted back.

Soon, she served breakfast to her parents.

Her mother, taking the fruit platter, said, “At least have your tea now.”

“Yes, Ma. First, try this new prebiotic drink.”

Mani placed the glasses of hot drinks on the table.

“I am taking tomorrow’s appointment with Dr Rishab,” she said.

Her father nodded as she picked up her phone.

The microwave beeped, signalling the end of the reheat.

Mani finally took her tea and slumped onto the sofa beside her father, with phone in one hand, steaming cup in the other.

She took her first sip.

“Ahh.”

The doorbell rang.

Mani rolled her eyes. Of course.

Her mother called out, “Ruku…”

——————————————————————-
In most Indian families, there is someone like Mani, on whom the rhythm of the home depends on…even before she’s had her first sip of tea.

Shabaz returned midweek and slipped into the familiar rhythm of home.

It was past dinner time when the couple finally had a moment alone.

As part of her nightly routine, Farhana was massaging her face with the night cream.

She looked at her husband rummaging through his bag.

He looked up at the mirror. “Did you speak to Humza?”

“Yes, every day.” She got under the duvet. “Could you not speak to him?”

Shabaz nodded, climbing into bed. “I kept wondering how Humza met the Imam?”

“Maybe they met him somewhere around. This Imam is a young fellow.” Farhana smiled at her overworked husband.

“Possible. That’s why he never mentioned the topic. By the way, I received a message from Mr Qureshi.”

Farhana massaged his creased brows. “Hmm, you forgot about their granddaughter’s birthday.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, yawning loudly.

Farhana switched off the bedside lamps.

On Saturday, a small group of guests visited the Qureshi family.

Hamid was also there.

He asked Humeira how Humza was doing at his uni.

“He is back to his cheery self,” Sana laughed.

Resting his hands over his head, he asked the sisters to recap the banter.

Sana and Humeira took turns to describe how they teased their little brother.

“Were there only stacks of money in the packet?” Hamid wanted to know.

The sisters looked at each other.

“Was there an envelope...I think an envelope fell near my feet.” Sana’s eyes squinted, recreating the scene.

Suddenly, she held her sister’s hand and whispered. “Do you recall the two white envelopes?”

“No, I don’t, but do you think that Moroccan is involved in something illegal?” Humeira asked.

“At least check that no harm comes to our little brother,” Sana pleaded.

“Sure, but I don’t think he is in danger,” Hamid sure after a pause. “We’ve passed the hotel guest’s details for verification.”

“Ah, Hamid Bhai’s Police mode is on!” The sisters giggled. Hamid smiled.

Pulling the chair closer, Hamid leaned forward. “Listen, please do not utter a word to Humza or your parents till I have all the info.”

“Hello, what is the intense discussion going on between the three of you?”
Mrs Qureshi beamed from the other side of the lawn.

They looked at her with a start.

She gestured for them to step inside; lunch was being served.

The trio rushed to join the other guests.

On Wednesday’s family call, Humza informed them that since he was mostly at the library, he would not be able to take video calls.

His thesis submission was around the corner. “Ok, fine.”

“But why can’t we call you around this time?
You are not going to be at the library all night?” Sana prodded.

Shabaz nodded, “Correct, Sana. Even a small chat will keep your spirits high.”
The screen filled with his smile. “No, Baba, at this time, it’s a distraction.”

“You are right, bro. Don’t push him, Baba.” Sana took his side.

Humeira appreciated her brother’s lean look.

“Especially you, Mama, do not panic if I don’t answer your calls or if I don’t call up for a few days,” Humza told his mother.

Farhana threw a kiss at her anxious child.

Before they signed off, the sisters exchanged an assuring look.

Sana felt foolish for overthinking. She couldn’t wait to tell Hamid that they were needlessly worried about Humza.

She texted him proposing a coffee date. His confirmation message arrived within minutes.

By the time she reached the cafe, he had already ordered the cappuccino.

“Hmm, what’s the emergency meeting for?” Hamid bit his lips to keep from laughing.

He gazed at her luminous eyes as she sighed. Sitting across, her long legs stretched out, not a care in the world.

“Hey, what’s with the silly expression?” Sana nudged him.

“Nothing.” He looked over his shoulder. “And what else? Anything unusual?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why should there be a problem? By the way, last week, an Imam visited us.”

“Family friends?”

“No, just Humza knows him a bit.”

“Sip your coffee slowly, and I will join you shortly,” he told a bewildered Sana.

As the bell jingled at every entrance, Sana looked up only to find other people trooping in.

Finally. Hamid appeared.

Wearing a broad grin and holding a rose, he came back to the table.

“This is for you.”

“You think bribing works?”

Squeezing her hands, he winked, “Always.”

A slow pout crept on Sana’s lips.

One moment, her boyfriend is all business; the next, he becomes all mushy.

Hamid checked the time, “Babe, let’s get going.” He signalled the wait staff for the check.

Later that evening, while Farhana searched for a seven-letter word, Shabaz said, “I am going to the jummah tomorrow.”

Farhana giggled, “So the Imam’s visit was fruitful.”

“What rubbish. I plan to come back after the morning meetings.”

“Then I’ll also take a half day!”

“We can take off to some overnight spots,” Shabaz suggested.

“Yes, it’s been a while. Let me figure out with the girls.”

The family retired that night in high spirits.

Friday began like any other rushed weekday, but the difference was in their mood.

Except Sana. Hamid had neither called nor replied to her messages since morning.

Yet, the family sitting together for lunch on a weekday had become rare.

“If only Humeira could shift her weekly offs from Monday…”

Sirens blazed on the street outside.

“Is there a VIP movement? Put on the TV.” Shabaz told his daughter.

Serving the korma, Farhana said, “Must be. I saw a heavy police deployment on my way back. Shabaz, try this.”

Between her mouthfuls, Sana peered at her phone notification.

By the way, did the Imam see you? Farhana asked.

Shabaz shook his head. “No, he was not there! Mm, you are right, the korma and the gosht are out of the world.”

The maid rushed towards a lurching Farhana.

The live news showed the chaos right after the prayer congregation in Lucknow.

A morsel of rice fell from Shabaz’s hands as Sana’s cutlery jangled on the floor.

“I knew something was wrong. I tried telling...” tears flooded in Humeira’s eyes. She moved closer to the TV.

On the television screen, Humza turned swiftly, but two men had locked his arms from both sides.

The reporter was yelling into the microphone that police had thwarted a major multi-city terror plot.

“It’s a mistaken identity. Hamid will clear the confusion,” Sana said, hugging her mother. Farhana cried out.

“Yes, Sana, it’s impossible…Save Humza. Call Hamid…”

“You are right, Mom. First arrest that friend Karan,” Humeira sobbed.

In that moment, Hamid entered through the kitchen door.
“Karan was a code word for SOS.”

Nobody spoke.

With difficulty, Shabaz uttered, “Nothing is making sense. Chennai to Lucknow?”

Hamid was barely audible. “Humza never returned to university.”

Shabaz glanced at his wife. “Have I done something wrong?“

“No.” Farhana laughed. “It’s funny how work expressions travel home.”

Shabaz let out a low whistle, his brows rising. “I agree, especially during the month-end targets.”

Farhana gestured to the maid to place the tray on the coffee table.

As the help turned to leave, Shabaz asked her to send Humza.

Farhana made a face, “He will come on his own. I think he’s packing.”

The couple sipped their coffee in silence.

“Aah!” Farhana massaged her throat, and Shabaz nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Have you noticed?” Farhana’s smile lifted her cheeks.
“Humza has become calmer these days.”

Shabaz mumbled that his wife can add her son’s stubbornness to the list.
He was not happy that Humza insisted on taking the late-night flight.

The doorbell rang. Must be Sana returning with treats for her brother.

But it was Humeira, storming in from the hallway, face reddened.

“What happened?” Humza stumbled out of his room.

“A guest has given this packet to Humza.”

Her brother grinned and almost snatched the parcel.

“Mama, how does Humza know a businessman from Morocco?”

“And how does he know Humza, your sister, is a chef at the hotel?” Her eyes blazing, she stared at Humza.

Farhana’s hands flew to cover her mouth.

Drugs? The saucer shook in her hand as Shabaz demanded to check the packet.

Humza nodded. “Relax, guys, relax.” All eyes were fixed on him.

“It was a last-minute request from Karan, my friend, and I had forwarded his message to Humeira.” Yet she is making such a hoo-ha.”

Shabaz leaned back in his chair. Farhana’s shoulders dropped to her sides.

Humza half-turned towards his bedroom, but Humeira was not done.
“Wait,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “How did he know I had taken a day shift to surprise you?”

He stuttered.

Farhana squeezed Shabaz’s hands.

Humza looked at his mother, shrugging. “Will you please remind Humeira that I messaged her!”

He turned towards his sister. “Nobody remembers technical details. Your hotel is not far anyway. I would have collected it if you were not available.”

In that brief moment, Sana had entered the house.

“What is this attitude, Humeira?” asked Shabaz.

Humeira knew by his tone that Mama’s disapproving gaze was on her.
She glared at her smirking brother.

Seeing Humeira seething with anger, Sana winked at her and punched the packet.
Humza was caught off guard.

Taking advantage of that confusion, Humeira kicked the parcel before it touched the ground.

The packet skidded on the polished marble floor.

“Stop bullying your brother.”
Farhana’s voice pierced through the room as Humza slid on the floor to grab the packet.

Sana tried snatching it. Wads of dollars and two envelopes fell out.

Shabaz stood up.

The ceiling fan whirred at full speed as a few notes fluttered across the floor.

Humza was the first one to recover.

He slid the envelopes in a lightning motion and dialled a number.
“Karan, you bloody fool, are you a smuggler? Your packet is filled with thousands of dollars.”

A voice floated from the other side, but Humza yelled back, “I don’t care.”

He looked at his father, “He said it’s for a new house or something.”

The next instant, putting his arm around Sana, he heaved a huge sigh, “Imagine, if somehow I was caught with these...”

“Call the police,” Shabaz said.

“Oh, no, Papa. Karan is sending someone to collect the packet. Ah, let’s not get into any trouble. Humeira might face problems with her job.”

Farhana rushed towards her son.

“Yes, Humza made sense. It was better to stay safe.”

“Sana, wrap up the wads in a cloth bag.” Shabaz directed his daughter.
To his son, he said, “Call up that fellow to ask the name of the person coming to collect the money.”

Within ten minutes, someone was at the door asking for Humza.

Farhana’s fingers froze around her cup as she looked at her son.

Humza swallowed hard.

Shabaz raised his hand, signalling everyone to stay put, but Sana followed a few steps behind.

Humeira didn’t blink.

The man at the door fidgeted. “Ah, Karan has sent me to collect the packet.”

Shabaz handed him the packet without a word and locked the main door.

“Ask for another round of coffee,” Shabaz uttered, getting back onto his sofa.

“What did he say, Baba? Did he look like a gangster?” Asked Sana.

“Hmm. He had a funny accent... may not be Indian,” Shabaz mumbled.

“You stay away from such boys,” Farhana cautioned her son.

“I am better off at my university,” his voice choked. “I can’t wait to leave this city.”

“Why are you so disturbed?” Humeira asked her brother.

“Exactly,” Shabaz said, inhaling the nutty aroma. “You are no longer a carrier of that packet. The matter is over. Enjoy your coffee.”

“But how did this Karan find someone to collect the bag in an unknown city?” asked Humeira.

“It is none of our business,” Farhana shut the topic.

“Correct.” Shabaz agreed. “Have you packed your bags, Humza? We will have an early dinner and drop you off.”

The family sat together for an hour discussing Humza’s prospects after his Master’s.

After they dropped him off at the airport, Humeira came into Sana’s bedroom. “Please call Hamid Bhai.”

“No, it’s late.”

“So what? He is your boyfriend!” Humeira said, shrugging her shoulders.

Sana continued to read her novel.

“Please, Sana. I need to speak with a police officer. Something about the Moroccan fellow is bothering me.”

Sana relented.

Hamid answered the call in one ring.

Hamid Bhai heard her out with patience, but Humeira remained unsettled, “Why was Humza so scared?”

“I think the possibility of carrying dollars unnerved him,” Sana said, puffing her pillows.

Humeira was in the mood to talk, but got up with a grunt, seeing the sleepy head.

In the morning, Farhana, humming her favourite tune, was detangling her damp hair.

“Someone is in a good mood.” Shabaz teased his wife.

“Of course! Humza sounded happy... and that Karan has moved out or something like that…”
Farhana’s voice trailed.

Son’s early morning call to his mother was enough to restore the balance at home.

The week passed in the usual routine, and no one had any inkling of the unusual start of the weekend.

The local Imam paid a visit, wanting to meet Shabaz.

It was such an honour that both Shabaz and Farhana welcomed him with much warmth.

Apologising for the sudden visit, the Imam took his seat, “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Please don’t say that, we are pleased that you chose to visit us,” Farhana straightened the cushion.

“Is there something we can do for you, Imam Sahib?” Shabaz asked.

“Ah, no, I was just passing by.

Ah, I suppose you come to the mosque for the Friday Namaz.”

“Well,” Shabaz stammered, “whenever possible..., I travel a lot.”

“I understand. Your son, Humza, is a fine young man.”

You know Humza! Shabaz and Farhana exchanged a glance.

Humza and Humeira’s prayers are limited to festivals.

“Met him a couple of times.” The Imam played with the snack.

“As parents, we have no complaints. Shabaz sank deeper into the sofa.
In these fast-paced modern days, rituals of bygone eras are not always easy to follow.”

“Actually, our eldest daughter prays three to four times a day. She beats us all,” Farhana tried to lighten the matter.

“You mean the one running Western dance school?” Imam’s voice screeched.

He kept his plate on the table to hide his fractured demeanour.
“Well, well, she looks rather modern.”

“We are focused on raising good humans,” Shabaz said.

Farhana tilted her head.

Imam pursed his lips. “I applaud that and thank you for your time.”

He got up with a start.

As Shabaz dropped the Imam at the gate, Farhana adjusted her dupatta.

The door closed, footsteps neared.

“SHABAZ!”

“Yes, my dear? Oh, why is temper nesting on your nose?”

“Why did you react like that? He will preach what he is groomed to believe.”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Shabaz said, “Not in my house.”

“Now, the wrong message will spread in the community.” Farhana sat with a huff.

Shabaz sat on the other side of the sofa with the newspaper.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Humeira poured tea for herself.

“What happened?” She looked at her mother.

“Nothing,” Farhana replied. “You are awake early. What time did you return last night?”

“Same time.”

Dropping heavily on the sofa, she sighed, “Four of the world leaders are staying with us.”

“Yes, half the roads will be blocked,” Farhana nodded, getting up to supervise the kitchen staff.

Shabaz also got up to pack his bags.
He was leaving tomorrow evening for a three-day tour.

Humeira lifted her legs onto the coffee table and sipped her tea at leisure.

Part 2 next Friday.

“Yes, but the swelling persists.”

“The new medicines will help.” He tore the prescription sheet and handed it over. “I’ll see you in three months.”

His hand reached for the bell, the smile still pasted on his face.

“James,” he asked, slipping into his blazer, “how many left?”

“Sir, Fifty more.”

Advay walked out of the cabin with a nod.

He returned to his desk in under an hour, and the last patient left around eight, nearly an hour past his usual time.

“Let’s go,” he told his driver.

“Sir,” the man replied, taking Advay’s bags and jacket.

A few minutes later, after parking by the roadside, he asked, “Sir, should I get chicken sandwiches?”

“Oh, lovely. Yes, please. Get one for yourself, too.”

Advay ate in silence and then closed his eyes.

Amber lights washed over the car as it wove through traffic, slowing at each signal. Advay sensed every move, feeling the rhythm of the city outside, a calm that allowed him to breathe deeply. He didn’t nap, yet by the time the vehicle entered the driveway, his fatigue had waned.

He could already see the heads of ten patients lined along the verandah.

An hour later, he strode up the flights of stairs.

The family sat at the dinner table; a serial played on the television, though no one was watching.

Hearing footsteps, Somak turned. “Just in time, bro.”

“There you are, Adi!” Ma exclaimed. “Set his plates, Naina.”

Advay raised both hands. “Relax. Let me freshen up first.”

As he joined them, his father was leaving the table.

“Let’s all sit together after dinner,” he suggested.

“Oh? Why? Did something happen?” Advay slurped the gravy.

“What will happen?” Ma snapped. “Can’t the family sit together?”

Advay chuckled. “Of course. But I have an international call at eleven for a journal.”

Seeing her expression shift, he quickly added, “With my co-writer.”

“Naina, make something interesting for breakfast tomorrow,” Somak blurted.

Naina smiled at the peace offering. Of course, she would make his favourite kachories.

Waking with the chirping of the first birds had become a habit for Naina. Humming softly, she began shelling the soaked nuts.

Besides the household staff, Advay was the only early riser in the family.

But the morning didn’t start well.

The black belt was missing.

Advay pushed a drawer shut, and the upper cabinet swung open. A flicker of a smile replaced the frown.

His brown corduroy pants.

Ah. With the brown polka-dot tie.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Bhaiya...”

Naina entered with a glass of ABC juice and a few nuts, placing them carefully on the side table.

Minutes later, while fastening his leather watch, Advay darted a swift glance at the dial.

On his way out, he noticed Naina arranging nuts and multicoloured water glasses in the television lounge.

At the hospital, Advay didn’t look up from the sheet he was writing on as the nurse updated him.

“Hmm, hmm. 203 is developing medical anxiety.”

He handed her the discharge summaries of 203 and 309.

“Sir, the patient will throw a fit,” she grinned.

Advay nodded, walking towards the trauma ward.

A couple of hours later, sunlight fell softly across his face as he exited the indoor ward.

His phone buzzed.

James from OPD, probably.

But when he looked down, his pace slowed.

Stuti.

“Hey there,” he answered, his tone lifting instantly. “Someone’s still in bed, I suppose?”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Take a guess.”

Her laughter crackled through the line.

“I hope you remember our lunch date?”

A fraction of hesitation was enough for her to catch the lie.

At the far end of the corridor, James sat at his desk. The waiting hall beyond was packed.

At two o’clock, Advay entered the hotel lobby.

“Hi! Someone’s looking dapper,” Stuti gushed.

“But of course. I’m meeting you.”

They walked into the restaurant together.

After the wait staff took their order and left, Advay caught Stuti’s pout.

Leaning forward, he held her hand and looked directly into her eyes.

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

Her brows creased.

“The eye makeup. The new hair colour. The pendant...” He squeezed her fingers gently. “I see the effort you put into looking this gorgeous.”

A small laugh escaped her.

“Thank you. But we don’t have to behave like teenagers.”

“Really? Then what’s with the scowl, ma’am?”

“Shut up.”

“Gotcha.”

“Okay, listen,” Stuti said, leaning back as servers arrived with the dishes. “I hope you’re free for the rest of the day, because we’re going to the movies after lunch.”

“All yours, babe,” Advay replied, unfolding his napkin.

“Mmm. This food is forcing me to overeat. Girl, what have you ordered here?”

“Why overeat? Have you eaten anything since morning?”

“Hmm...”

She waited while he chewed slowly.

Finally, he admitted, “Naina packed peas cutlets and a whole persimmon.”

“This is just the first course. Eat slowly.”

Advay glanced around the restaurant.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Look at the next table. They’re so far away. I’m sure they can’t hear you berating me.”

Stuti squealed.

The servers returned with another course.

“I chose this restaurant because it’s a stone’s throw from your hospital,” she said.

“What’s with the movie? We could just do nothing. Maybe you could’ve booked a room here.”

“Ah, we’ll see. After lunch, let’s head to the lounge for coffee. Then we’ll decide.”

“Why walk down a long corridor for coffee? Let’s have it here.”

“For privacy. And we can slip downstairs from the corner.” Her eyes twinkled. “If you get bored with my company, then we’ll go watch a movie.”

“Smart girl,” he grinned. “I like how you somehow twist every situation toward your plan, yet still make it feel tailored to me.”

“That’s so mean,” she growled, though a smile lingered at the corners of her mouth.

A buzz interrupted them.

Advay answered the call.

Stuti sat up straight.

As the conversation dragged on, her shoulders slowly sagged.

Of all days. Couldn’t this wait?

“Listen, Stuti, I gotta go.”

He didn’t even look up.

Coffee could wait.

“But... you’re with me. Aren’t there other doctors?”

“I know. But this needs my attention, and I’m really close by.”

“What if you weren’t?”

He had already stood up.

So what do I tell people? Her jaw tightened. That my lunch date ran off mid-meal?

Her cheeks had reddened. Noticed details, my foot. Pretentious!

As she watched him stride away, he didn’t even once turn.

The meal ended halfway, and the day carried on.

By nightfall, both of them had folded themselves back into work and routine.

By the time Advay reached home, exhaustion had flattened the rest of the evening into a blur.

A book had toppled the bedside clock.

Yawning, he reached for his phone.

Ten.

Oh, damn, totally knocked out.

He jumped out of bed and pressed the remote. Bright sunlight flooded the room, blinding him for a moment.

The lounge was unusually quiet for a Sunday.

Advay’s eyes fell on the teacozy.

“Ah.”

A staff member appeared.

“Naina made sandwiches and asked me to grill them for you.”

“Where is everyone?”

“They’ve gone out for breakfast.”

“I see. Bring mine to the terrace.”

Steam spiralled upward from the teacup, fogging his glasses.

He settled into the chair and carefully placed his glasses on the wrought-iron table.

He looked around at the flower pots lined up around the parapet.

The light breeze fluttered his shirt as he stretched his legs out.

Nice! Ma was right about chopping off the mango tree branches covering the terrace. Stuti likes details like this.

He took another sip.

Actually, I should give her a call.

She didn’t answer.

A crow cawed incessantly.

Advay peered through the branches. Man, you are relentless...

The boy set the breakfast tray on the table.

“Also, get me a strong black coffee.”

By the time the coffee came, he had finished every crumb on the plate.

He called again.

This time, she answered.

“Yes, Advay?”

“Good morning. I thought I should thank you for yesterday’s sumptuous lunch.”

“Okay.”

“I mean... are you up for coffee and a movie tonight?”

“I don’t want to come in the way of your patients and hospitals.”

“Come on, Stuti. You work late too. But yes, last night I stayed up reading about a case similar to what I saw yesterday.”

Silence.

“Stuti...”

“I can hear you.”

He began pacing, holding his coffee.

“I really had a good time with you. It just ended abruptly.”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s meet around six-ish?”

“Let’s see. I’ll message you.”

“Sure.”

Excited voices rose from the driveway.

The family settled in the TV lounge.

“Where were you guys?” Advay asked, dropping beside Somak and throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“The waterfront.”

“Wait, Som,” Ma interrupted. “All this chatter can wait.”

“Are you home this evening, Adi?” His father asked.

Advay’s fingers danced along the sofa backrest, some tune playing in his head.

“More or less.”

His foot tapped unconsciously. His body moved back and forth.

His mother asked, “Are you in love or something?”

“Unlikely.”

His mother narrowed her eyes.

“Are you in love or something?”

“Unlikely.”

“Planning to date anyone?”

“Unlikely.”

“Are you singing Shakira in your head?” Somak asked suddenly.

Advay burst out laughing. “Yes! How did you guess?”

“I do the same,” Somak flashed an impish smile.

“We have friends coming over this evening,” Ma continued. “And they want to meet you.”

Dad raised the newspaper over his face.

Advay’s foot missed a beat.

“Look at this,” Somak interrupted, opening his camera gallery.

“See? Doesn’t the boat look like it’s entering the orange ball of the sun?”

His voice betrayed a subdued excitement.

“The softened sunlight is beautiful,” he murmured. “Especially the way the rays hit the water. Are you planning to enter competitions?”

Somak winked.

“See this one. Here, the ball of fire is engulfing the boat.”

“You know, Somak, these are nice, but we have seen several such images.”

“Not the next one, bro.”

Advay took the phone.

A lone bird appeared to lift the boat’s hull by its beak as the sun threatened to swallow it whole. Below, seagulls skimmed the water. A fisherman’s arm stretched toward the horizon as though resisting the inevitable.

“There’s so much happening in this photograph,” Advay whispered.

“If you look closely,” Somak said proudly, “a wave lifted the boat at exactly that moment.”

Just then, Kiara barged in.

“Move a bit,” she elbowed her brother.

Advay fell on Somak, and the device slipped out of his palm, but the string looped on his little finger.

“You almost broke it, Kia,” Somak yelled at his sister.

“Sorry. Mama, did you tell Adi about the girl?”

Friends? Advay turned sharply.

Ma shifted awkwardly while Dad buried himself deeper behind the newspaper.

“We were going to,” she muttered.

Seeing his wife fidget, he stepped in.

“Yes, we intend to talk to Adi about a potential match. We have heard good things about the family and the girl. She is...”
His wife cut him off, “She studied in London, too and is launching her own clothing line.”

Throughout it all, Somak scrolled through photographs while Advay listened with his hand resting against his chin.

“What else?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing more,” his father replied.

“We haven’t even seen pictures yet,” Ma added quickly. “Apparently, she once participated in a beauty pageant.”

“And frankly,” Dad continued, “you’re thirty-four now. It’s time.”

“You can ask our friends what you want to know about the girl before you decide to meet her,” Ma suggested.

“What nonsense,” he laughed lightly, patting Somak’s shoulder. “You people are still within the lower limit.”

Naina entered with drinks.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Ma said gratefully.

Both got up, and Naina followed them with their drinks.

Kiara was silently gushing over her hand-painted flowing skirt.

The conversation had faded into background noise.

“Why are you blushing? No one is talking about your wedding,” Somak teased.

Advay remembered, suddenly.

“What happened to that guy? Haven’t seen him around lately.”

Kiara waved dismissively.

“Huh. He couldn’t even distinguish between forks.”

The brothers exploded into laughter.

“Is it vanity or visceral?” Somak quipped.

Kiara played with the rim of her glass.

“It’s not that.”

“It is,” Advay said calmly. “His ordinariness stopped feeling novel.”

“You know,” she admitted slowly, “he got too comfortable with the lack.”

“Not a hustler?” Somak summarized.

Advay bit his lips. Is that how women evaluate…

Just then, Ma re-entered the room.

“Adi, the girl’s family wants to visit next Saturday.”

Advay nodded absentmindedly.

“Can you be home by noon?”

“Difficult. I’m in Hyderabad for a conference.”

Her eyes widened.

“And the week after that, Delhi.”

“What is this behaviour, Adi?” she snapped. “Wait till I tell your father,” momentarily forgetting about the person on the other side of the call.

Advay smacked his lips, “They can come, should they wish.”

Ma stormed out.

“Marriage is such an outdated concept,” Kiara declared.

“True,” Somak agreed. “But not weddings.”

All three siblings erupted into laughter.

The following weeks dissolved into conferences, late dinners, unanswered messages, and shifting schedules.

Meeting Stuti again after nearly a month felt unexpectedly pleasant.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Advay said warmly.

“Same here.”

The smile reached her eyes.

They talked animatedly, trying to bridge all the days that had slipped between them.

The phone rang mid-meal.

Advay glanced at the screen and switched it off.

“If it’s the hospital, you should answer,” Stuti said softly. “I’d understand.”

“Relax, why are you getting so worked up?

He helped himself to another serving.

“Here. You haven’t tried this yet.”

He lifted a spoonful toward her.

Stuti dabbed the corners of her mouth.

She liked his attention.

“You know, after Dad’s recent scare, I think I finally understand doctors... and what the work demands.”

His phone rang again.

This time, Advay answered.

“I’m busy. Please call someone else.”

He disconnected before the person on the other end could respond.

Stuti stared at him.

“So curt,” she murmured.

Then, unable to stop herself:

“Why did you snap at her?”

Advay shrugged casually.

“I’ve handled hundreds of such cases.”

Stuti wiped her hands carefully on the napkin.

“What’s bothering you?” he looked at her quizzically.

“Nothing.” She paused. “I wanted to tell you something.”

He looked into her eyes.

“I’m moving to Texas on an assignment.”

The knife scraped the plate. Advay held it firmly.

He reached for water, the glass cool against his palm.

“This is wonderful news, congratulations.” Advay shifted a little. “Moving for good?”

“As of now, six months...”

Advay reached for the glass of water.

His eyes followed the glinting rays falling on the crystals from the chandelier.

SIX MONTHS...ah, six months.

“We should celebrate,” he said. Have you tried the soufflé?” His pitch was on the higher side.

From the corner of his eye, he saw one of her eyebrows rise.

The following week passed in fragments, meals missed, doors closed, questions deferred.

But on the weekend, Naina knocked, “Bhaiya...”

Advay half turned to see her peering through the half-opened door.

The laptop screen lit the right side of his face.

Sorry to disturb, but everyone is calling you.”

Before he could deny, she offered a hasty lure, “I am making frothiest coffee for you!”

Advay grinned. “I am sold, let’s see who is missing me?”

“There you are! Adi, why have you been so reticent these past weeks, son?” Ma asked.

“It’s called being busy, Ma.” He put his arms around her.

“If the mother-son melodrama is over, can we confirm the dinner with the girl’s family?” Dad’s mocked.

“Yes, of course.”

“But, what’s keeping you so busy these days, Adi?” his father casually asked.

“I’m moving to London next month to do sports medicine.”

The conversation around him continued.

For once, Advay sat quietly.

Liana was put on the bed, a pillow placed beneath her plastered leg.
“Now there is enough room for the nurse to sleep on the floor,” one of the women said, surveying the room.

The man grinned, pleased. He moved the three-seater against the opposite wall. “So we have a place to sit when we come to meet Liana,” he added with a wink.

The women nodded, smiling.
One of Liana’s friends arranged medicines, a water jug and books on the side table.

“Uncle, we all live close by. We’ll take turns staying with her,” she said

The chubby woman’s face lit up. “So can you stay here till the nurse arrives?”
“Yes, of course, Aunty.”
“But not all eight, nine of you. This is not a party hall,” snarled the man.
Insufferable. She smiled sweetly, “Sure, Uncle.”

He slapped his paunch, as if declaring the matter settled. “Alright then, let’s leave. Liana is deep asleep.”
“Yes, looks like the medicine won’t wear off soon,” the other woman said, gathering her sari pallu.

The door clicked shut.
A hush.
Then suppressed laughter spilled into the living room.

“Hey, guys,” Liana called.

Everyone rushed in.

“You’re awake!” Deb exclaimed.
Liana winked, a smile spreading across her face.

“Boo!” Sty appeared at the window, startling everyone.
“Open the door. I got something useful, a wireless bell kit.”

“Now the nurse can sleep in the living room and still hear you.”

“That’s such a relief.” Liana’s hands dropped to her sides. Now our breaths won’t clash mid-air.

The next morning, sunlight streamed in.

As the nurse propped up her pillows and changed the sheets, Liana noticed a car passing by.

A little boy in a school uniform rested his head against the window, chin tucked into his small hands. He neither smiled nor was grumpy.

Liana watched for a sign until the car disappeared at the bend.

The nurse was asking about her parents, leading to more questions, but Liana’s eyelids grew heavy.

After that, a pattern settled.

Each morning, when the nurse made the bed, Liana looked for the dreamy child’s car to pass.

The nurse would finish her tasks and leave, lips pursed.

The afternoons blurred into one another, and muted television sounds drifted in and out of the living room.

Evenings, though, were lively with friends.

And lately, the morning drowsiness had begun to lift.
That day, Liana felt unusually alert.

She rang the bell. “Will you help me sit up?”

The nurse bolstered the pillows and drew out the curtain. She remembered to place the small tray with the bell and water on the windowsill.

Propping against the headrest offered a clear view of the outside lane.

“Aha, the spring is showing its colours,” Liana exclaimed.
No response.

She noticed the deft movement of the nurse’s pudgy hands and stole a glance at her face. The oiled hair pulled back in a tight bun exposed her expression.

I don’t think she likes me.
Her lips puckered. She looked out.

Under the palash tree, a crouching woman was consoling her wailing child as she poured water from a bottle into her steel tiffin box.

Liana leaned forward.
The woman kept talking, and the wide-eyed urchin opened his mouth without any tantrum.

She gulped down the leftover rice water, packed her things and left the place without a trace.

Only then did Liana exhale, as if she too was transfixed by the story.

The nurse arrived with her protein-rich fare.

Her eyes stung. Nostrils flared. She pushed the veggies around the plate.
“I’ll waste all this.”

Outside, the palash flowers trembled in the wind.

The cellphone rang.
“Hmm,” she answered, unsure of her voice.

Deb’s voice floated in, “What’s up, babe?”

“Nothing much.” Liana looked at her laden lunch tray and then outside.

“Well, I have oven-fresh news about Rohit Sir!”

“What!” The pull was immediate.

As the story unfolded, Liana listened intently, nodding, reacting, each bite slipping into her mouth unnoticed.

By the time the call ended, her plate was empty.
She lay back. A faint smile flitted.

The next day felt brighter. Her energy matched the morning sunshine.

After lunch, the nurse painted her nails, changed the upholstery and placed a vase of fresh flowers on the side table.

Thanks to her girl gang, they melted the ice with the nurse.

She flicked her painted nails in the sunlight, bobbing her head to music.

Then she noticed it, a metallic grey-blue car parked outside. Nice.

But now the view was blocked. If only the driver knew that the lane stages so many tales every day…

Liana pleated the sheet covering her, played with her hair, then drifted in and out of various phone apps.

She was about to lie down when a man rushed to open the car door.

His hair was wayward, and his half-tucked shirt was wrinkled. He rubbed his temple again and again.

Rummaging through his pockets, he found the key and quickly took out a large plastic bag.

The blue envelope of X-ray plates peeked out.

Liana’s fingers tightened around the bedsheet.

When he left, stillness returned. But in the car’s rear-view mirror…

Another man.
Standing against the tree. Half a bicycle tyre was visible. He checked his phone repeatedly, brows creased.

Minutes passed.

A call came. A brief exchange followed. He kept the phone in his pocket and disappeared from the mirror’s frame.

Then his boots trampled the petals of the palash flowers strewn underneath. “Oh no!”

“What happened?” The nurse came half-running, stumbling into the bedroom.

Liana had unwittingly exclaimed aloud. Her face reddened.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine. Just lamenting if only I could walk.”

The nurse smiled, but Liana didn’t miss the frown on her face.

“After all, tomorrow is the big day,” the nurse comforted her.

Liana caressed her cast, covered in drawings, signatures, and messages from people who mattered to her. I will keep it as a souvenir.

At the clinic, sitting atop the stretcher, Liana let out a heavy breath.
Finally, the wait is over… and the weight, too.

The doctor looked up. “Feeling lighter, huh?”

“Yes, doctor,” Liana said, flexing slightly. “Strange, though.”

“Physiotherapy will help,” he assured her. “But you have to endure the process.”

She did. The repeated count of one to ten for each physio session exhausted Liana.

But what choice did she have? The forced holiday break must end sooner rather than later.

Her friends have not said a word about her job threat, but such a long absence will surely impact her career.

Three… four…

She clenched her fist. Someone else must be handling her projects by now.

She called the nurse. “Please count for me.”

Her legs lifted, obedient but disconnected.

Eyes closed. Jaw set.
Should I call up the tech head and let him know I am much stronger?

She opened her eyes.

A girl sat by the roadside, gathering fallen palash petals into her lap. One by one, she threaded them.

A few petals tore. She set them aside and continued.

Liana followed the movement of her hands. The same motion, again and again.

Liana watched. Her leg moved in rhythm. Slow, steady.

He looks around and spots Priya behind him, messaging. Her trolley stands off to the side.

“There you are,” he says, wiping his forehead.

“Come, let’s go.” Priya pats his shoulder.

A car passes. The wind lifts her dress. She quietly shifts behind her cart.

“Man, the entire city is flying off. Look at the queue!” Priya grumbles.
Param grins. “Turn left.”

Priya follows his gaze towards a newly opened gate.

“What! Is it our lucky day?”
They move quickly to the barely crowded baggage counter. Priya settles into a window seat in the lounge, opening her NYT puzzle.

Param stretches, yawns, and skims the crowd.

“Can I go first?”

She barely nods.

“Be back soon.”

A few minutes later, he returns, wiping his hands with a tissue. His face looks lighter.

“Yeah,” he says, dropping into his seat. “Go, freshen up.”

“I’m good.”

Suitcases roll past. People gather in lines. He drums his fingers on his bag.

“I mean… You probably should drink something.”

“What?” An announcement crackles overhead.

“Hydration is underrated.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wear diapers during travel.”

He pauses. “Huh. That’s new.”

She hands him her sanitiser. “Help yourself.”
Param shrugs.
He stretches his legs, watching as people keep adding themselves to serpentine lines in front of unopened gates.

He leans back, arm behind his head, and tries to nap.

The announcement cuts through the lull.

Priya is already gathering her things. He gets up too.

She walks a little ahead.

Param quickens his pace, but two girls brush past him to get closer to Priya. A few more whisper, pointing at her bag. His brows knit.

Inside, she places it carefully under her seat, rather than in the overhead bin.

He pauses in the aisle for a moment longer.
The plane taxied, and the air hostess demonstrated the flight safety instructions.

Param’s screen flickers blue as he scrolls through menus. He huffs, pulls off his headphones, and looks around. The same glow everywhere.

He glances at Priya, still absorbed in her crossword.

He nudges the armrest.

“Hmm?” she says, not looking up.

“What’s the point of carrying your purse in a sack?”

Priya chuckles. “If you know, you know.”

“No, really. Enlighten me.”

She waits for the drinks trolley to pass.

“These bags hold value.”

“Then keep it in a bank locker like gold.”

“That’s what the dust bag’s for.”

“…so, you buy something expensive when you can’t flaunt it?”

She takes a sip.

“I do. I show it at the right places.”