Page 15 of No Boss
He met her gaze. Direct. Unavoidable. The look that never softened what followed. “Hukum has decided to sell Anand Mahal.”
The words struck and held.
For a moment, longer than it should have been, Meera didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t react. Then it reached her. Like the ground shifting. Tilting beneath her feet.
Her hand found the edge of the desk.
“What?”
It came out smaller than she intended.
“I just received a call from a property agent in Jaipur,” her father replied. “The process has begun.”
“No.” Her grip tightened. “That’s not… he hasn’t even been here. He doesn’t know what he is…”
Her gaze moved between them, searching for refusal, for denial. “Thakurain Sa would never allow…”
“Meera,” Gauri’s voice came, low.
Meera swallowed.
The bell from the temple had rung that morning. She had closed her eyes, taken it in, held it where it always rested. And thought, the way she thought every day, that there was nowhere else in the world she was supposed to be.
And a man sitting in another country had decided to sell her home.
“He can’t.” Her voice wavered and steadied. “He’s the Thakur. The protector…”
She stopped. Pressed her lips together. “The Kul Devi mandir… it has stood there for centuries. He will hand it to strangers?”
“Meera.” Devendra’s voice carried weight.
“He will sell my home from an office in another country. Without coming here. Without seeing what he is giving away.”
Devendra rose from his chair. Both palms came down on the desk.
“You think this is easy for me?” His voice stayed low, held in place with effort. “My father served this family. His father before him. I have given my life to these walls. But the Haveli belongs tothe Anands. Legally. Completely. If Hukum decides to sell…” He held her gaze. “He has every right.”
The words settled deep.
Gauri came to her side, her hand resting on Meera’s arm.
“Beta, listen.” Her voice held firm. “We are caretakers. Managers. If we oppose him, if we make this difficult, if we become a burden he has to remove…” Her fingers pressed into Meera’s sleeve. “We lose everything. This work. This home. Your father’s name. His place here. Everything we have built.”
“Everything we have built…” Meera repeated, her voice low. “Maa Sa, I learned to walk in that courtyard.” Her gaze did not waver. “I learned to pray in that mandir. I know every room in this Haveli by the sound it makes when the rain falls.”
“I know what it costs.” Gauri’s voice softened, trembling at the edges. “But it still doesn’t change what is real.”
Devendra lowered himself back into his chair. His gaze dropped to the desk, to his hands, to the maps in the brass stand.
“Serving Anands.” His voice went quieter. “Means accepting what they decide.”
Something inside Meera went still.
Not calm.
Still.
A fire held.
