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‘There is someone for you, Ms Raje,’ the receptionist said in her clipped British accent and Koyal wondered who it could be. She wasn’t expecting anyone that afternoon.
‘Please ask them to be seated, I am just finishing a meeting,’ she replied.
Half an hour later, Koyal stepped into the reception and stopped short in surprise. For sitting in the waiting area were Atharv and Mansha. It had been a week since the incident at Hema’s house and hardly a day had gone by when Koyal had not found herself thinking about how Atharv’s hand had felt on her forehead. There is something about genuine concern that leaves a strong mark on any soul and Koyal, deprived more often than blessed with kindness, was no exception.
Atharv was staring too. He had never seen Koyal look the way she was looking now. She was impeccably dressed in a collared, crisp white blouse and a fitted black skirt. Black high heels, understated make-up and nicely done hair rounded Koyal’s at-work look. Smart, professional and gorgeous.
‘Atharv, Mansha,’ Koyal said, finally finding her voice.
‘Well,’ said Atharv, grinning, ‘I spent a fair amount of time with the lovely lady here,’ he pointed to the lady at the reception who visibly blushed, clearly fancying the tall doctor, ‘because I kept asking for a Ms Raje who worked at reception. Turns out there’s only one Ms Raje at SunSoft London and she is the global head of product.’
Koyal blushed and grinned at the same time.
‘Well,’ she said, laughing, ‘now you know.’
‘No, seriously, this is impressive,’ Atharv said, stepping closer.
‘No, no,’ said Koyal, ‘this is nothing. I head pretty much the smallest and the most insignificant product at SunSoft … it’s nothing big.’
Atharv and Koyal stared into each other’s eyes, his holding a million questions and hers not giving anything away.
‘How?’ he finally asked, his voice an awed whisper.
The first time he had asked anything about her past.
‘Stole from Ma the day after she died,’ said Koyal and then burst out laughing when she saw the expression on Atharv’s face.
‘It’s a long story, Atharv,’ she said finally, ‘for another day.’
‘If you are done, can we please ask Koyal Aunty if she will babysit me this Saturday?’ interjected Mansha, who had her arms wrapped around Koyal’s legs. ‘Both Daddy and Dadi have to go somewhere – different places,’ she informed Koyal.
‘You want me to babysit you, little baby?’ Koyal asked, tickling Mansha.
‘Not that I am a baby but that is the phrase everyone uses so…’ trailed off Mansha, looking so downcast that both Atharv and Koyal burst out laughing.
‘Of course,’ Koyal said in between laughs.
‘Nothing can be more beautiful than this,’ Koyal thought dreamily to herself as the notes from the piano filled the air around her with beauty and hope. Mansha’s little fingers swept across the keys of the grand piano and Koyal, sitting cross-legged next to her, listened enthralled.
Mansha, Koyal thought, was an odd little girl. Usually easy-going, but very sensitive and at times, disturbingly wise. Since she had been reunited with Koyal after the accident in school, Mansha had begun to treat Koyal as if she were made of glass and would go to extreme lengths to make sure she didn’t do or say anything likely to offend. That she was walking on eggshells around her was as obvious as it was upsetting for Koyal.
‘I’ll never let you get angry with me,’ Mansha whispered to Koyal one day.
‘Why? It’s absolutely normal, healthy even, to show anger once in a while.’
‘When you get angry at someone, you leave,’ she said simply and went back to her book. Koyal looked at the girl, taken aback by the truth in her words.
The calm of the music room was disturbed a bit later by a pointed clearing of throat. Koyal and Mansha turned around in unison to find that the perpetrator was none other than Atharv. Mansha smiled in delight, but Koyal found herself gulping.
Is it just me and the chemistry of my brain that I find Atharv this good-looking or is he really so? Koyal found herself wondering as she stared at him.
Atharv was wearing an impeccably tailored suit in dark grey. A crisp white shirt and a tie. Freshly shaven and smelling, even from that distance, of a cologne that reminded Koyal of teak forests and sleek cars.
Atharv Jayakrishna was strikingly good-looking. The kind of good-looking that was responsible and kind and the sort that you’d never want anything bad to ever happen to. The kind of good-looking that was strong and powerful and the sort that would never let anything bad happen to you.
But, as Koyal was slowly finding out, a lot of bad had happened to him.
‘I am off for the evening,’ he said to Koyal and Mansha.
