Page 99 of No Boss
“In 1891,” she began, her voice controlled, “there was a famine.”
The words came easier once she started. She spoke of scarcity and decisions, of people and duty, of choices that had cost something, and held because they had to.
He listened in complete attention.
At times he leaned forward. At times he stilled. Yet, always near enough that she remained aware of him.
Time moved. The moon climbed higher. Rakshak drifted across the sky. Jasmine thickened in the air. When she stopped, night had fully wrapped itself around them.
Neither rose at once. When they did, it came slow, as if stepping out of a space that had held them longer than expected. They walked back through the hidden door and into the corridors.
Meera stopped where their paths parted. “Goodnight, Hukum.”
“Goodnight, Meera.”
She gave a small nod. “Tomorrow… there is more to show you.”
“I’ll be there.”
She stepped back respectfully, then turned away.
Her figure moved through moonlight into shadow, disappearing through the archway without looking back.
Abhinav stood there, watching the space she left. Then he turned and walked through the corridors, unhurried. His steps echoed softly against stones that were beginning to feel… familiar.
The Haveli was quiet. Deeply so.
He wasn’t.
Chapter 19
Day Two
Meera waited at the entrance of the residential wing.
Deep green today. She looked different. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun, a few strands slipping at her temples and brushing her neck. Her dupatta was knotted at her waist.
He took it in, the comfort in how she had dressed, a sign that she had begun to ease around him. His eyes softened.
She noticed. Let it pass. A small bow of her head in greeting, and she turned to lead the way. He fell into step beside her without a word.
“We’re going to the eastern wing today,” she began, slipping easily into the purpose of the day. “The restoration team is working on the wall paintings. I want you to see how it’s done.”
She lifted her hand as they passed under an arch. “This pattern. The lotus inside the geometric border. Every wall we restore follows this. Not approximately. Exactly.”
He followed her gesture, observing the lotus. Then… his attention slipped.
The loose strands at her nape moved with each step, brushing the curve of her neck. Morning light caught there, tracing a clean line from ear to shoulder.
He pulled his focus back to the wall.
“The motifs aren’t just decoration,” she continued, unaware. “Each one carries meaning. The lotus marks a spiritualsignificance. The border tells you the period of construction. If you can read it, the Haveli tells its own history.”
Her hand moved as she spoke. His hand, at his side, itched to close around hers. He shifted his focus to the wall on his left. And, very unhelpfully, his mind followed.
Turning her.
Her back against the stone.
