Josh's POV

Samaira looks deep thoughts as she sips her tea, while I argue with Sameer on how he had handled my situation. It is clearly going nowhere, yet I can't help but relieve my frustration to somebody. Sameer is tall, lanky man in his late forties. He sure cleans up well in his white vest and leather shoes. His narrow black eyes and thick eyebrows looks well suited for a man like him, which is idiotically shrewd.

Even with my lack of sleep, I am fully in my element. I know how to be arrogant and aggressive. The dude's situation is feeding to my mood already. Earlier today when I woke up following a shrill noise of the bell by the housekeeper and the cook, I found myself sleeping on the couch. The memories of the night came back in a rush. Samaira helped me to connect with my soul, or at least it was a start. I don't know whether her intrusion was welcomed or it bothered me. It felt uneasy when she asked me to sing the composition to her. We hardly know each other. Though I hate to admit that it helped me to come a little closer to my soul. And I kind of have a rough song already. It has been more than twenty-four hours since I had a cigarette. This is the first time in so many months now, at least since the rehab.

"Samaira, I am very sorry for the inconvenience this all is causing you," Sameer says this for the tenth time. "I am sure you two will not be in each other's way. Mr. Hudson can take up the corner-side room with a view of the eastern hill and you will have to speed up the renovations in the adjacent room for his recording stuff, that's all."

She shakes her head, rather like a small child. "I don't know about this. Mr. Hudson will have to hear the thumping and drilling all day long. He will not have a minute of peace here," she pronounces, keeping back her unfinished tea on the coffee table.

"Samaira, he doesn't have any other choice for me. Do you understand?" I interject. "I will have to put up with it until I get back in contact with Richard."

"Yes, Samaira. We went to all nice hotels, everything seems booked. It's just a matter of time," Sameer added in a convincing tone.

I let out a short snort. "Sure my manager will have to pay for all this fiasco. Booking a vacation villa that resemblances to an abandoned house."

"Don't exaggerate, Mr. Hudson!" Samaira cries. "It's really not that bad. It will be ready in a week, then maybe I can also leave this place in peace."

Samaira's saying that she would leave this place has me uncomfortable all of a sudden. What is this? What kind of unreasonable feeling is it? I sigh and stand up. "Thank you for nothing, Mr. Deshpande. I think I am going to take a nap while you sort out your problems."

With that, I leave their company and stretch my arms wide. The pain in every muscle of my body is evident. I have a sprained neck and sore back. That is not stopping me from feeling great and optimistic. Normally this situation would have caused my irritation to go ten-fold, I might have punched Sameer for it. But somehow I know that this all is going in a right direction. Living here with Samaira is perhaps destiny. Till yesterday, the concept of destiny was fiction for me, now I am witnessing it unfolding.

When I reach the eastern bedroom in which I had spent a rather eventful night, I peer from the verandah adjacent to my new room, Samaira and Sameer strolling together through the badly grown hedges along the front yard. They are discussing and pointing to the border area. The Sun is hot, yet the weather and the wind are pleasant. I lean on the railing of the verandah and watch Samaira intently. She is driving her hands wildly in the air causing her hair to bounce lightly. The curve of her waist fully visible in her red top and skinny jeans. I gulp and remember a night before what I almost proposed to her. Would she be interested if she was single? I hear that Eastern countries are Orthodox, they abide by set society rules. I am not sure if casual relationships are common in a country like India.

It was over the line. I realized soon after her retort. She was offended by my insinuation. I did not know what I was thinking at that time. I shouldn't have. But the damned man in me has seen a woman in her. And not just a woman, but an elegant and sexy woman. I fidget as I remember how her skin felt, how I could stop myself from venturing my fingers further to her lips. "She is married, you moron!" I heard myself saying.

I stretch my arms and legs trying to shake off the feeling. I close my eyes for a moment. And when I open them I saw another man joining Samaira and Sameer. I watch them discussing what looked like some sort of garden design. I am drowsy now, but still not ready to leave Samaira with the two men. Maybe when the douche bag will leave, I can peacefully sleep. This goes on for half an hour and then Sameer shakes Samaira's hands and proceeds towards his Toyota SUV parked outside.

When the SUV stirred off the road, satisfied, I walk back inside for a much-needed nap.

The light flutters over my eyelids, but I am too engulfed in the dream to let go. There is sweet aroma of my mom's pancakes carrying me to the kitchen. As I peer through the doorway, I see mom in her favorite dress with her hair tied into a ponytail. She flips the pancakes expertly and hums a familiar tune. She is all young and beautiful, just like the mom from my early memory. She turns and throws a bright smile my way and tells me to sit down. I feel the excitement when I sit and wait for her to fill up my plate. As soon as she serves me the pancakes, I eat heartily smacking my lips together and she watches me smiling.

"Josh?"

I look up and see the second most beautiful smile. Samaira leans down and tells me to wake up.

I obey and take her hand. She is relaxed, happy and cheerful. I take her hand and kiss it. She gives a shy smile and stands close, only a breath away. My hands caress her face and soon I reach down and kiss her on her soft lips. She lets me mold her lips to mine and takes hold of my hair on the back of my head, encouraging me. My heart swells like never before and all my worries vanish. I call her name and tell her fervently that she is very beautiful. I don't want the kiss to end.

"Hey, Josh?" A touch on my shoulders shatters the dream in a fraction.

I look up fully awake this time. "Hey..."

She backs away, a little confused. "Dinner is ready..." she trails off.

"What time is it?" I say, sitting up.

"It's seven. Should I wait for you?" she queries, avoiding my gaze.

"If you don't mind. I will take fifteen minutes," I say and jump up. I should probably shave. This is not going to be the way I want to appear to Samaira when she cleaned up well herself. I admit it's an understatement.

"Okay," she agrees and silently walks out. As soon as she is out of sight, I rush for the shower. I try not to dwell on the dream and our earlier encounters, knowing well that it would keep me in the washroom longer than necessary. I don't want to waste any more minute. I try and think about the texture of the newly installed tiles under my feet. She really does a good job. The color combination of beige and sky blue were comforting and gave out the impression of space. The tub does not seem to be made for my height, yet it fits perfectly in the space, without crowding. There is one thing to complain. She is not here. I gulp and shake my head. Get it together, shithead!

After I finish up, pulling into my most expensive sleep ins, I inspect my reflection. Days old stubble don't look that bad. I try different smiles and finally smirk. God has been kind. With my spirits up, I climb down the staircase. What I witness in the space is pure astonishment! The light fixtures are in place, illuminating the earlier abandoned look into a posh and neat living area. I feel wonder and surprise; in a day, Samaira did such a transformation. The room looks absolutely beautiful and very welcoming. I inspect the new cushion covers, new upholstery, newly painted walls. I almost forget the dinner as I graze my hand over the textured wall appreciatively.

"You like it?" asks Samaira from close behind.

I turn to face her. "It's almost as beautiful as you!" I say and get amused by such an expression.

Red color seizes her cheeks and instantaneously, she looks away. "Come, dinner is getting cold."

I smile and follow her to the dining area. The way she reacted to my comments is rather strange. It was just like a teenager would do, awkward and uncomfortable with the compliments. She is different.

The dining room seems vibrant than before, the wet paint glistens and reflects the soft light. Samaira moves towards the door connecting with the kitchen. A moment later Kamla sets the table and retracts by the door.

As we eat, I try having a small talk. I ask her about the day and what she was discussing with Sameer. She in turn explains that she would now focus on the landscape design for the garden around the mansion. The more she is talking, the more she seems relaxed and comfortable. I like when she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ears, while lowering her eyes. The taste of the curry is hot and yet while I watch her, I don't feel it. I ask about how she chooses her color combinations and fixtures. While answering my query, her glow is apparent. She is most beautiful when she explains her ideas, her philosophy of designing. It is captivating.

"When did you decide you wanted to work in this field?" I ask, sipping water.

"Well, since I was a kid, I had the habit of changing the arrangements at home. I always liked to collect wild flowers, trim them and keep it in my craft made vases. It's like I was born that way. I liked to experiment with the aesthetics and come up with a way to annoy my mother," she concludes laughing.

"How was your experience with the first remodeling you ever did?" I ask, intrigued.

She looks thoughtful for a second and then sets her spoon down. "Hmm. The first time I ever attempted to put my ideas across was my third assignment with Devika, our head. We used to coordinate with the vendors and not actually contribute to the ideas. She had shouted to her junior assistant, Ratna for bringing the different upholstery as what Devika had ordered from the shop. Ratna had tried explaining to Devika that what she ordered had already was sold off by the vendor and there was no choice for her. She then just ordered us to bring another one in the lavender shade. When we went to the shop, there was no lavender one, but one in bright orange in a velvet cloth. Harmeet kept telling me that we would be scolded for this. She wanted a lavender upholstery to complement to her Lavender-pink shade decided for a small girl's bedroom."

"So did she like it?" I questioned.

"Thankfully she did. At first, without even listening to my explanation, she opened the box and then touched the material with her hands. She inspected the material closely and then looked at the bedroom. The chairs and sofa had arrived with white fabric covers. The walls were light pink with the pattern of lavender. Suddenly, she smiled brightly and hugged me. She had said that time that I was natural. And I was going to do something extraordinary in this field," she concluded, dreamily.

"Definitely, true. Especially when I saw the transformation today. You have the talent and passion for this," I say, giving her the best of my smiles.

She is mute and nervously looks on her plate. The rice is now cold.

"What's with your blush?" I ask, bravely. "Every time I compliment you, it's like you go beet red."

"No. When? I don't..." she blurts, again the red color rising on her cheeks.

I try to look past her obvious nervous façade. "Are you really married?"

She looks up startled like the deer caught in the headlights. "I have a kid too," she replies and then looks at the door. Kamla is cleaning up in the kitchen, not witnessing our conversation.

"You do?" I question, surprised to say the least.

"Yes," she nods. "His name is Veer."

My heart sinks at the thought. I imagine her with a husband and a kid, both faceless. A very happy family... It's depressing. I must admit.

The rest of the dinner is quiet. I finish up the last bite, in contemplation. I want to be alone, and yet I don't want to leave her company. It's a stupid feeling. What sort of dude am I? God! "Do you want to take a stroll?" I ask.

She looks at the clock, it's eight in the evening. "Okay, I guess," she smiles forcefully and stands up. She straightens her pale yellow tunic and walks out of the room. Her gaze avoided me all the while. I followed her out, calling out 'Good night' to Kamla. 

** sorry guys for such a long wait. I will update the next chapter soon.. :)**