I can't help but grin. At the moment, happiness is surging within me. Everything seems falling into place. First the song and then Samaira. The fact that Samaira is single delights me except that bastard of an ex-husband. He can't touch her ever till I am here for her. What would happen when I am gone? Suddenly the thought of leaving this place, living Samaira gets me back to the miserable state.

I try to remind myself that we are here for only a short while and then we would go our separate ways. That is for the best. First time in months I can actually see myself recording an EP or even a complete album. I have been struggling all my life, and this is my chance. Sitting upright in my chair, I sip the coffee I made. As I was formulating my day recording, I heard a child's voice. I turned in my seat to find a small boy of about five poking his head above the kitchen counter and staring me down.

"Who are you?" asks the boy, his brows knitting.

He is Mey's son for sure. She pinches her eyebrows precisely the same. I watch him in wonder. The resemblance is striking. He definitely has Samaira's features except for his hair, curly like his father.

"Who are you?" he asks again, now coming in front. A toy dinosaur dangles from his hand.

"I am Josh Hudson," I reply smiling. "What is your name?"

He doesn't answer immediately but stares me. "I am Veer, and I am three years old," he recites.

"Hi Veer, It's nice to meet you," I stand and offer my hand.

"You have a funny sound," he remarks and takes a step back.

"You mean my accent?" I chuckle.

He looks on without answering. Though, he processes my words.

"You know, I used to have dinosaur toys myself when I was your age," I tell him in a matter for fact tone. I put my hands safely back in my pockets.

"Really?" he asks, intrigued.

"Oh yea, I had many," I nodded.

"Even Ankylosaurus?"

I did not know what that meant, but I nodded anyway.

"I always wanted to have one. I have all other dinos," Veer pouts.

"When I go back to my home, I will send you if you like?" I propose.

His face lights up. "Thank you! That would be nice," he pauses for a moment. "What should I call you?"

"You can call me Josh," I smile. "Hey, would like to play with me?"

Veer nods excitedly. "With my dino?"

I laugh and kneel down to come up to his level. "I will show you something cool."

"Yayy," he jumps up and down and sprints away.

"Hey, where are you going?" I shout behind him.

He stops abruptly. "To ask mumma if I can play with you!" He disappears just as quickly as he finished. Very guarded like his mother indeed!

Later, when he returns skipping, we go straight to the room where I set up all the recording equipment. The fascination on his face over the huge workstation, microphone and dampers along the wall is priceless. When he saw the keyboard, his tiny fingers methodically press the keys.

"You know how to play?" I enquire sitting on the chair opposite the workstation.

He shrugs and then turns to the drum set up in the isolation area I managed to do with the long thick curtains drawn through temporary stands. He studies every part and then turns to me. "Can you teach me how to play?"

"It's the guitar I know best. You want to try?" I offer.

He nods grinning.

For another half an hour, I tell him the basics. By the end of an hour, he strummed D chord, C chord and G chord. Of course with his little fingers, it is not easy to make the sound louder. But still, with practice, he can quickly learn.

"Veer?" Samaira calls out.

I turn to the door, where she stands smiling. Something stirs inside me, a very unfamiliar sensation.

"Mumma, I can play the guitar!" Veer pipes in.

"I heard, honey," she looks proudly at her son. "But enough already. Let Josh work alone."

"A little longer, puhleezz?" he frowns.

"Let him stay for some time. I am enjoying his company. We will come down to lunch once it is ready," I suggest.

She starts to retort but I give her a look to let it go, and she gives in. Before she closes the door, she steals one look at me. She was undoubtedly thinking of me.

"My mum is the best, hai na?" says Veer strumming the chords incoherently.

"Of course. After all, it's your Mom," I laugh. "Which school do you go to?"

He answers and keeps on telling me all about his school and friends.

"Who is your best friend?" I ask.

"Shantanu," he tells and says all the trivial things about his friend. "He asks me about my papa."

I sit straight in attention.

"My papa doesn't live with us," he continues. "Shantanu's Papa picks him up after the school. Not my papa."

Suddenly I don't know what to say. "Your Mom picks you up after school," I offer.

"My mumma always works. Grandma picks me up," he informs frowning.

"I am sure she makes up to you when she gets back home," I comment confidently.

"She takes me to the garden and plays tag with me," he grins. "I beat her every time."

"I bet!" I laugh. "Your Mom is awesome."

"You also like my Mumma?" he asks innocently.

I can't help but feel warmth towards the boy. "I sure like her! She is the coolest!"

"Yayy! I will tell mumma. Bye, bye," he chirps and hops out of the room.

I smile at his retracting figure and get to work. For the first time in so many years, I feel elated and happy. I open the laptop and set up my Digital Audio workstation software Avid Pro. Once Everything is in place, I record guitar, piano in four different tunes revolving around the original theme. I again take the scribbled song and make more lyrical adjustments.

After satisfied first recording, I look at the watch and see it was already four in the evening. I chuckle at my engrossed state. It is always welcome. I move downstairs to find Kamla in the hall. I ask her if she knew where Samaira was.

"Madam and her family ate lunch. They are now in the front yard," she answers pulling the corner of the side to tighten the hold over her head.

"Do you have lunch for me?" I asked, playfully.

"Madamji told me not to bother you when you were in your room," Kamla answers defensively, her eyes little widened. "I will serve you now."

"Thanks and don't worry," I recover.

I tell her I would like to have lunch on the eastern side verandah. There I could have a good look at Mey, and precisely I do that when I eat with little focus and only watch her with her mother and son. The kid is watering the plants while fifteen something gardeners work to embed the newly delivered plants. The unruly growth of bushes and hedges are nowhere to be seen. Instead, the land is dug uniformly, and a set of new plants and shrubs are being implanted.

Amidst all others, my eyes only follow Samaira. The way she is animatedly instructing and directing the work, my heart inflates in my chest. In her casual blue shirt and skinny jeans, she is a vision. She has undeniable beauty and the best part she doesn't know yet what effect she has on people.

My thoughts suddenly interrupted by coughing noise. I look back and see Mey's father under the archway between the hall and the verandah. Beneath his pale striped shirt and dark trousers, he looks grim and critical.

"Hope I am not interrupting," he asks raising his brows. He has caught me red-handed looking at his daughter. At least it seems that way.

"Not at all, Mr Rao," I say nonchalantly. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you," he replies.

I ate consciously as he regarded me carefully.

"Where are you from exactly?" Rao queries picking up the newspaper from the table in between us.

I munched the mouthful of rice before answering. "I live in LA. Basically from Detroit."

"Michigan?" he asked straightening the paper in his hand. His rimless glasses were pushed back to his nose.

"Yea," I nod and take another mouthful of rice. I want to finish this as quickly as I could. Certainly not the fan of questioning by Mey's father.

"What kind of Musician are you?" he probes lowering the newspaper.

I contemplate my answer. "One can say, pop-soul singer."

"Hmm," he acknowledges with a frown. "So when are you getting back to your home?"

"Not for another three weeks," I answer coolly. "I am planning to compose a few songs before leaving."

"I hope your presence doesn't affect my daughter or her work in any way," he says with the gaze of penetrating intensity.

I chortle and regard him with disbelieve. I certainly can understand the protective instincts, though I don't like the tone of his voice. I am not some predator.

"Did I say something funny?" he asked, his brows raising.

"No, not at all. I am not here to trouble your daughter or her work," I emphasise the last part. "I am just here to record my songs in peace in a place I booked with my money. I want to make most of it."

"I didn't say anything about trouble," he states, leaning his face to the side. "But it's good that we are on the same page."

"We are, Mr Rao," I recover. "I know how hard it must be for you."

"What do you mean?" he asked crossly.

"I met Samaira's ex-husband last night. He looked like trouble. I am sure you are only looking after your daughter's safety," I say and gulp the last spoon of rice from the plate.

His expression softens. "Somi has gone through a lot and at a such a young age," he murmurs. "My daughter is a fighter, and she is a force."

"She is tough, Mr Rao. At least that's what I could see from last night," I confirm.

"She told me about your help, thank you," he says.

"I was relieved after he left."

"All she needs now is peace and no drama at all," he says in a subtle warning sort of way.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did she marry that man in the first place?" I blurted out. That question was eating me since yesterday.

He looks surprised at my audacious question but answers in defeat. "He manipulated Somi into believing that he loved her and he was the perfect man. All staged I tell you! It was not for a second, he was truthful. Such a lying bastard." His anger and frustration easily coloured his face.

"She is very mature for her age. It's surprising she could fall for her ex-husband's lies," I mumble. I know it is not my place to comment. But when the picture of her husband clutching her wrist flashes before me, I spit anger.

"Samaira has always been a free spirit. Easily loves people and people easily loved her. She never had to try hard for anything in her life," he reminiscences. He puts back the newspaper and sets his glasses on the table.

"Now she seemed closed and guarded," I comment clutching my both hands together. I look at her fleeting figure. At the same time, she looks up and catches my gaze. Her smile brightens on her face. She trusted easy. Maybe she believed me too easily knowing fully well that I will leave India and never come back. What is the point in getting involved when there is no future? We belonged to places so different that it just can't cross the distance.

"I can't see her being unhappy," he says dabbing his eyes from the back of his hand. "She deserves the world."

I take in his misery and the truth behind his words. Mey deserves a happy life, an honest and accomplished man. I am not that man. My life is marked with imperfections. I ran away from all the good things in life. I ended up with drugs, women and a bad reputation.

"We will leave in some time," Rao pauses. "Of course, I will drop by every few days to check on Samaira."

I take the hint from his words and smile. "I will count on that," I replied standing up. "I should get back to my recording. It was nice meeting you."

He stands up as well and takes my hand in a handshake. We nod at each other in some subtle truce and walk our separate ways. This time the burden of Mey's parents' emotions weighs heavily on me. She is a real person with a good heart. Would I put her through another heartbreak?