The real problem was consistency.
Every time she chose professionalism, her mind betrayed her. Very inconveniently, memories would surface. His hands around her face in the office. His voice in the stairwell. The courtyard. The archive room. His presence close enough to feel without touch.
She was in love with him.
The thought arrived quietly, factually.
Meera Chauhan, estate manager’s daughter, caretaker of Anand Mahal, was in love with the Thakur of Anand Mahal.
Abhinav Kumar Anand. The man who had come to sell the Haveli. The man who had made himself impossible to ignore.
She adjusted her dupatta and kept walking.
“Maa,” she muttered under her breath, “this is at least partly your fault.”
Abhinav stood at the main gate.
Her heart reacted before she could stop it. She steadied herself, tightening her hold on the phone.
“We’re going outside. The extended estate. Beyond the walls.”
He nodded.
A plain shirt, trousers, casual shoes. She glanced once at his footwear and gave a small approving nod.
They stepped out together.
The green fields opened ahead. Workers moved through rows.
She let him absorb it all.
Then, “Fourteen families work these fields directly. Another twenty through the outer parcels. The Haveli trains them, equips them, invests in what they need to build on their own. It has done so for fifty years.”
He didn’t answer. But he was observing.
She noticed.
A group of farmers approached.
“Meera Baisa,” the oldest greeted, hands joined. His gaze moved to Abhinav. “Thakur Sa. It has been a long time since a Thakur Sa walked these fields.”
“Too long,” Abhinav replied.
The man began to bow.
Abhinav’s hand rested briefly on his shoulder, stopping him. “You’re my grandfather’s age. Don’t.”
The man straightened, hands still joined. “Ji, Thakur Sa.”
Meera turned her face slightly away, the warmth in her chest rising too quickly.
They moved ahead. Conversation flowed around them. Seasons. Families. Those who had left. Those who had returned.
Abhinav asked about people. Not numbers. Whether the older workers managed the days. Whether the younger ones planned to stay.
One man, silent until then, spoke up. “My son is in Delhi, Thakur Sa. First in our family to attend university.” Pride sat clear inhis voice. “On scholarship from the Haveli. We don’t forget such things.”
Abhinav looked at him. “What is he studying?”
