The glare of the summer sunlight streaked in through the windows illuminating the room and the bed on which he lay supine. He forced his eyes to open yet again, but it was as if his body had failed to respond to his commands. His head was gripped in a splitting pain- something like he'd never experienced before. His limbs felt feeble, disjointed and ached if he tried to move. The warmth of the sunlight filtering into the room was nothing compared to the heat which seemed to have engulfed his body.

With one final heave, Sameer let out a hoarse cry as he hoisted himself off the bed. The moment he did so, the world around him began to spin. His eyes squinted against the light, and he pressed his palms against the sides of his head to steady the giddiness arising from the pit of his stomach and shooting to the nerve endings in his brain. He held the side of the bed for support as he pulled himself up with a great effort and tried desperately to walk towards the bathroom to freshen up. He must have stood upright for a moment or two, when pitch black darkness swept across his eyes- the world shut off and he crashed to the floor in a heap.

"Sameer...Sameer...utho beta...," he heard a familiar voice urging him to wake up. He felt splashes of cold water being sprinkled onto his face. Reluctantly, against his body's urges, Sameer opened his eyes and found his mother huddled over him, panic writ across her face. His step father and his step-siblings were also there, looking concerned and he thought he noticed a few servants hovering hither and thither, carrying glasses in their hands, before his eyes fell shut again. Twenty minutes later, when he reopened his eyes, he was somehow back onto his bed and a doctor was examining him.

"Baaki sab to normal hai...just Viral lag rha hai....par bukhaar kaafi tez hai...inhe rest karne do...lagta hai yeh kaafi stressed hain...inki body recoup nahi kar paa rahi...inhe jitna aaram dein utna acha hai...," the doctor was explaining to Sameer's so-called family.

"Mujhe office jaana hai...der ho rahi hai...," he whimpered.

"Nahi Sameer...aaram karo aaj...main phone kar keh keh deti hun Rita ko...," his mother's faint voice seeped into his brain.

"Nahi...mujhe jaana...hai...," Sameer groaned, but at that moment, he felt a syringe pierce his arm and soon he was sedated- off to a blissful sleep.

So it happened that that Saturday, Sameer was forced to remain in bed by his mother due to his high fever. Never in the past five years, had Sameer taken a sick leave unless he'd been absolutely critical. And that had happened once when he'd been in office with 104 fever. It was that evening on consultation with a doctor that he realized he'd contracted Dengue- a new dangerous kind of fever that had started to plague Delhi. And it spread with the bite of a special kind of mosquito- Aedes. That actually fuelled Sameer's obsession for killing flies, insects and mosquitoes whenever he spotted them, or his need for hospital-like cleaned office and home. No, not because his platelet count had diminished to a life-threatening twenty-five thousand and he'd had his second ICU experience in less than three years; but because it had cost him a full week off from work. Though his employees had prayed for his speedy recovery, it would be a lie to say they had not revelled in the perks that the absence of their strict, domineering and workaholic boss provided. So naturally, Rita was surprised when Mrs. Somani informed her around 10 that Saturday morning that Sameer was down with Viral fever and would not be able to come to work today. The news was passed on and in less than ten minutes, everyone hooted and made plans for an early wrap-up in the evening.

At a quarter past four, as Rita was packing her purse and locking the drawers, the landline rang shrilly. The moment she heard Sameer's voice at the other end, she felt her plans for shopping at Sarojini Nagar with her friends go down the drain. She was sure he would pile her with loads of work to compensate for his absence, when Sameer spoke again, interrupting her melancholic reverie. She didn't understand if the fever had got into his head, but he actually sounded polite. Very polite! He requested her, actually 'requested' her, to tell him the location of the visitor logs and their details. He explained that if he felt better tomorrow, he'd would come in and contact a few clients. And he didn't want to call her up and bother her on a Sunday. Really? Since when did Sameer acquire tact to leave his employees alone on holidays? Sameer nodded as Rita told him the location of the folders and gave him a brief summary of the day's work and the meetings postponed. Rita replaced the receiver back onto the cradle, lifted her purse and made her way out, preoccupied with thoughts of her boss having had his brains addled because of illness; unable to admit that Sameer Maheshwari had a soft side to him.

***

Sameer unlocked the door of his office around noon on Sunday. He was still weak from yesterday's fever, but antibiotics had been helping. He'd insisted to his mother that he had to get some urgent work done today and would come back home early. The truth was he was too impatient to wait till his illness subsided. He'd spent the whole of yesterday evening mulling over what to do. Thinking about his past, his equation with Naina- then and now. Would he be able to face her again or even more difficult was- would he be able to work with her again at a solely professional level? Somehow, Sameer doubted that a lot, considering his record wherever she was concerned. His control had slipped several times in the past- first when they'd both been drunk, and the moment she'd pulled him closer to her, he had let it go. And then when he'd been trying to keep away from her, he'd given in when she held his hand and his eyes fell upon her inviting cleavage. Then the night of the assignment when he'd climbed upto her room stealthily. He'd become aroused seeing her make coffee. Coffee! For God's sake. What normal human being gets excited seeing a simple girl, dressed in plain, decent, even dowdy clothes, while she's making a simple coffee? And then the steamy romance in the monsoon, where they'd broken their promise again? He did not wish to think about it. Ohh chuck it! He still wanted to think about it, for he knew very well that the past was what he had. What he ardently wished he had now as well.

Sameer focus! You need to help her! She is in need of money. She has a small child to take care of as well. But why should I help her? What if she was really cunning and had manipulated me? Well, his heart erupted in her defense. And Sameer sought to calm it down, understanding the point. It didn't matter if she was guileless or scheming. He loved her. Was still in love with her! Had been in love with her the moment their eyes met the day they almost crashed in school! He'd just never accepted it- for he'd been afraid to love again. And isn't this what people do for the ones they love? They sacrifice- their own comfort, their feelings, their emotions, for the one they love. He knew his concern for Naina overpowered his rage and his grief. And then, he never really had the chance to tell her about his feelings. So in all possibility, she had no inkling of what he felt for her. Which suited the current situation perfectly well! In addition, his businessman instincts roared at him to keep a tab onto his feelings and make a formal deal with her. She had talent. Her book had the markings of a bestseller. You would be rich fellow! And she could take off as an author in the world of fiction. It was a win-win situation.

Sameer clambered over to Rita's desk and rummaged through the folders in her drawer with the spare key he always kept to do random checks on his employees. Trust issues were not new to him. Naina...Naina...Naina....his finger searched the records. Not Naina you fool...her name is now Reena...Reena Mittal. The name immediately made him glum, but he chose to overlook his feelings and gleaned through the appointment files, hoping that Mrs. Mittal had left a number somewhere. And then he found it. Bingo! 5525203!

Sameer darted to his cabin, file in hand, and after several deep breaths, dialled the number, "011-5525203". As the phone began to ring, Sameer instantly slammed the receiver down. Sweat trickled onto his forehead. What if he picks up? Don't be silly Sameer! This is not the time to get cold feet. He redialled the number, only to replace it again at the first ring. But what would he say to her? Or him- if he picks up the phone. Would she believe him? He took a few minutes to organize his thoughts and rehearsed what he should converse about.

And then he dialled Mrs. Mittal's residence again. He waited this time with bated breath as the ringing continued, waiting to hear her voice at the other end or maybe her husband's. And then he heard a click and a voice boomed. It was her husband's.

"Hello...?"

"Ji main Somani Publication Agency se Mr. Sameer Maheshwari bol raha hun...Mrs. Reena Mittal se baat ho sakti hai...?" Sameer enquired, hoping his voice was professional enough.

The man's tone seemed to have turned joyous, "ji ji...bilkul ek minute sir....".

"Nainaaaa....!" Sameer could hear the name which was so close to his heart once, being called out in the man's muffled voice. So he knows her real name and prefers to call her that. Of course he knows you dolt! He is her husband.

"Kiska phone hai....?" he heard her ask and his heart fluttered at the familiar honey drip voice.

"Tum khud hi baat kar lo...," the man handed her the receiver.

"Hello...," he now heard her loud and clear. Damn! He should have let Rita call her!

"Hello...Naina...Mrs. Mittal I mean...," Sameer began when he heard a sharp intake of breath and knew she'd recognized his voice. For a moment, he couldn't help feel smug. He cleared his throat and continued, "Mrs. Mittal, main Somani Publication Agency se Sameer Maheshwari bol raha hun...".

There was a silence at the other end for a few moments, and then he heard a cold, "ji...boliye!"

Her indifference was his undoing. He started blabbering, "Mrs. Mittal...Naina...wo...dekhiye I'm sorry us din jo bhi hua...wo tum...aap...aise suddenly saamne aa gayi...and aap...mera matlab tum bina kisi ko kuch bataye...khair chodo...". Naina raised her eyes at the other end, while Sameer slapped his forehead, "what are you doing Sameer?" And then he took in a huge gulp of air to steady himself and continued, "Mrs. Mittal...aapka write-up mujhe pasand hai aur main ise publish kar sakta hoon aap chahein toh...aap soch lijiye...aapko jitna time lena hai chalega...that is...agar aapne koi aur publisher final nahi kiya hai toh...aap jab bhi decide kar lein toh mere office me call karke meri PA ko inform kar dijiyega...".

Another pause. And then he heard her say, "okay...thank you!" He got the feeling that somehow Naina didn't seem pleased with his offer. He ended the call, his body racking with tremors- from the fever or from the way her voice turned soulless on hearing him, he didn't know.

Naina stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, frozen to the spot as Arvind waited with hopeful eyes to hear the good news. She feebly replaced the receiver and managed what she hoped was a smile. "Discuss karne ka puch rahe hain...confirm nahi hai...thode din mein unki secretary call karke batayengi!" she lied.

"Ohh...," Arvind's face fell, " but I'm sure wo zarur maan jayenge!"

Naina nodded and went back to her cooking, her mind in disarray at having heard Sameer's voice again in less than a week, and trying to reason his implications of offering her a deal.

For two weeks, Sameer desperately waited for the phone to ring, but whenever it did, it wasn't Naina. Finally, on a languid June afternoon, Sameer was sitting in his cabin doing some account reviews, when Rita buzzed on line 1 and said, "Sir....Mrs. Reena Mittal line pe hain...transfer karun?" Sameer was taken by surprise. He answered in a yes. Seconds later, his phone rang again and as he put the receiver to his ear, Naina's voice sounded across it. This time it wasn't detached thankfully.

"Hello Sameer...Nai...Reena Mittal bol rahi hun...kya ek baar aapse meeting ho sakti hai?" she asked, hesitation evident in her voice.

Another face-off with Naina? You would need to get used to it Sameer, otherwise you won't be able to help her out. Sameer acceded, "sure...meri secretary ke saath appointment fix kar lijiye". By inviting her to his office rather than for a personal luncheon, he hoped Naina would get the message that the deal was purely professional.

Rita peeped in a few minutes later and as she handed over the newly printed illustration samples of the new artist they'd hired, she asked, "Sir wo Mrs. Mittal ko sign karna hai kya?"

Sameer shifted his gaze from the samples back to her and nodded, "unka kaam bahot acha tha...shayad maine paise kam offer kiye...isliye wo chali gayin...agar wo novel kisi aur publisher ke haath lag gayi to humein kaafi nuksaan hoga...isliye I guess thoda compromise karna padega...". Rita nodded, somehow contended that the poor lady would now receive the help she deserved.

***

The buzzer on his desk sounded, bringing him cruelly out of a blissful reverie. He lifted the receiver and snapped, "yes?"

Rita rolled her eyes and thought, "Mr. Grumpy is back!" And then she spoke in the same, crisp manner as was usual for a secretary, "Sir...Mrs. Reena Mittal is waiting for you! Shall I send her in?"

Alarmed, Sameer realized he needed a few minutes to compose himself, shake off the vivid images from his mind, and think about what he wanted to discuss with her. "Main ek draft review kar raha hun...unhe please thoda wait karne ko kaho," he lied.

"Sure sir!"

"Acha...ek kaam karo... unke liye ek cup coffee bhijwa do...," and then as if by habit, appended, "strong, doodh zyaada and 1 and ½ chammach shakkar!"

"Ohh...Ohkayy sir!" As Rita replaced the receiver, she was startled for a moment. "How did boss know that Mrs. Reena preferred coffee over tea, and how she liked it- 1 and ½ teaspoon of sugar? Really?" she mused and then thought the better of it. She requested Naina to wait in the lounge and ordered the peon to get the coffee as sir had asked. A few minutes later when Naina took a sip of her favourite beverage, a smile formed on her lips- exactly how she liked it! And the smile registered on Rita.

After fifteen minutes of sifting through random magazines on the waiting table, Naina was called into Sameer's cabin. As she knocked, Sameer stood up and came around to greet her. He held his hand out to shake, but seeing her hesitation, withdrew. While Sameer tried his best to ignore how heavenly she looked in the butter-yellow chikankari churidaar, and her part open, part tied, still waist long hair; Naina took in his impeccably dressed form- formal blue shirt, beige trousers, replete with a matching tie. He seemed to have been exercising regularly. His muscular physique betrayed it.

Sameer offered her a seat at his desk and sat down in his high back chair opposite her.

"So...good evening Mrs. Mittal!" Great Sameer- no stammering! The last thing he wanted now was Naina to know that he'd been daydreaming about her only minutes ago.

"Good evening!" Naina remarked, as if Sameer was a stranger she'd never seen. That pinched Sameer. Is she going to pretend that she doesn't even know me now? The thought made him morose but he didn't show it.

Before she could broach the topic at hand, the landline on Sameer's desk gave another shrill ring. Sameer let out an exasperated sigh and politely excused himself. As she saw him at work, diligently listening to the conversation, jotting down a few points here and there, perhaps quotes from some supplier, she recollected how this Sameer was a stark contrast to the carefree lad she knew. And then, not wanting to be caught staring at him, Naina used Sameer's distraction as an opportunity to survey her surroundings.

The last time she'd been inside this room, she'd barely had time to registered the details- thanks to the shock of seeing him in flesh and blood right in front of her. And then the way he'd spat those derogatory comments had filled her eyes with tears, and evoked a desperate need to flee from his sight. Naina shook those thoughts away and started looking around her.

His office was a moderately large room, with three tall windows. The walls were painted in an austere white with a tinge of soft grey. Two fans and a cooler spun relentlessly, pouring cool air onto the inhabitants of the cabin. The room was sparsely populated with Mahogany furniture, mostly with a deep walnut finish. His own desk was a broad, carved Mahogany piece paired with swivel chairs around. The room might have been mistaken for a library, for it was glutted with tall, wooden bookshelves and glass cases, housing numerous tomes, magazines, files and manuscripts.

The reader in Sameer had risen. Apart from his work, he'd enjoyed diving deep into volumes of literature, in trying to assess the prowess of the authors who approached him, or to hone his own skills.

As she squinted her eyes, she found the leather bound editions of classics like 'Don Quixote' and 'Iliad and Odyssey', several works of George Orwell, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Agatha Christie and many more. As she scanned the shelves, she spotted one of her favorites during college days- the book she'd also prepared a report on with Sameer himself, back in their final year, 'The Scarlet Letter'. And then as if reminded of the book's premise, her hand flew to her chest of its own volition, as if trying to search for an emblazoned 'A'. Didn't she and Sameer deserve to be marked with an 'A' like the protagonists of the novel- the A which tainted them- shrieked out that they were adulterers? The book's poignant quality along with her own broken past prompted her to swiftly avert her eyes. Don't be silly Naina! That was just a work of fiction. Moreover both of you have moved on in your lives. Her eyes flew back to Sameer absorbed in the conversation on the phone- his hair, albeit shorter than before, swaying around in the flurry of air from the fan overhead. And she concluded that Sameer, especially had moved on.

She closed her eyes, trying to ward off the weird notions seeping into her mind, and focused her attention onto a leather sofa set with a walnut coffee table set in a corner. This must be where he treated his guests and clients. Her eyes lingered over the cigarette stubs in the ash tray, deducing he was probably smoking again. Whatever! Why should she bother!

Naina then eyed the stack of manuscripts on the table in front of her and assessed that Sameer must be having enough writers to publish. In that case, he was not really in need of her work. "Why had he called her then?" she wondered as she peered out of the window behind Sameer, at the magenta bougainvillea creepers flittering in the summer wind.

Her trance was broken when Sameer coughed. Alarmed, she realized Sameer had been sitting staring at her for a few minutes. A hint of a smile played around his lips. She responded with a formal smile as well.

"Kaisi ho?" he pleasantly exclaimed.

"Baat to aise kar raha hai jaise bachpan ke dost hon...jaise isne kuch galat kiya hi na ho...sharam bhi nahi aati logon ko," Naina mused crossly.

"Theek hun...aap?"

"Bahot acha hun!"

"Hmmm...!"

"Hmmm...!"

They stayed mum for a minute or two, not knowing how to begin. Naina sat with her legs crossed, fidgeting with her purse strings.

Sameer understood her trepidation. Bilkul nahi badli. Baat baat pe nervous. He smiled kindly and uncovered a glass of water and offered it to her. Naina accepted it gratefully, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Kuch logi...chai, coffee?" Sameer put on his formal-client-smile.

Naina took a sip of water and shook her head, "no thanks...abhi bahar wait karte time li thi!" And then a vague thought crossed her mind- how come the coffee was exactly as how she liked? Did he remember? Or was it a mere coincidence? No Naina! Why would he bother about the kind of coffee to be served to the guests? He had better things to do.

Sameer took a deep breath, steepled his fingers together and broached the topic, "So Mrs. Mittal...aapne kuch socha?" Sameer knew he was great at hiding his emotions, but still hoped Naina couldn't discern how much restraint he was exerting not to pull her into his arms. Damn it! If only she wasn't married! His eyes flicked to the mangalsutra draped around her neck.

Naina took another sip and then began, "wo actually...main aapse discuss karna chahti thi...jo bhi...". She trailed off.

"Batao....?" egged Sameer, trying to sound amiable.

"College mein...jo bhi tha...jo bhi hua...," she started.

Sameer looked at her gravely. "Wo sab galat tha...I'm sorry for that...!" He didn't know what had prompted him to go on the defensive at the mention of their past. But he didn't want Naina to know how he felt for her or the way he'd suffered. His male ego had reared its head.

Naina was a little taken aback. And somehow pained. So he did consider all that a mistake. How silly of you Naina to keep hope alive that he'd loved you...even if he didn't now...he'd once loved you! Listen to your mind dear...your heart is his slave!

"Of course...mera matlab wo nahi tha...main to sirf itna janana chahti hun ki yeh publication ke offer mein aapki side se koi sympathy ya koi aur conditions to nahi hai...?" She wanted to add, 'remorse', but thought the better of it.

"Conditions...sympathy?" His brow knitted and then it dawned on him what exactly Naina had been implying by 'conditions!' He let out a hollow laugh. "Conditions? I'm sorry Naina...Mrs. Mittal I mean...pehle to yeh meeting purely professional hai- isme koi sympathy ka angle nahi hai...agar mujhe kisi pe daya karni hoti to main directly paise offer karta as charity...dusra main business ka bada pakka hun...mujhe aapki book achi lagi...isliye maine aapko bulaya...aur wo jo bhi hamara...past...," he raised his fingers, "...tha use side mein rakh diya...aur teesra...," he leaned in closer, "...conditions puri karne ke liye mere pass aur options hain...don't worry about that!" He smirked. Way to go Sameer!

Naina was mortified. "Good! Kyunki mujhe bhi yeh relationship professional chahiye!" So he was sleeping with other women! Yeh kabhi nahi sudhar sakta. Agar paison ki zarurat na hoti to kabhi bhi iske pass nahi aati! She clenched her teeth.

"Awesome! Main bhi apni past galtiyon ko yaad nahi karna chahta...!"

"Main bhi nahi karna chahti!" she averred coldly.

There was another silence- this time it was uncomfortable.

"Khair chodiye wo sab...ye contract hai...3 saal ka hai...ek baar padh lijiye ghar jaake...agar paise ya terms me kuch badlav hain to suggest karna...main apni legal team se discuss karke final offer rakh dunga...," he got up from his chair. Naina understood that the meeting was over. She took the folder with the contract papers and got up as well. Stifling her ego, Naina muttered a "thank you sir...," and made for the door. As she turned the doorknob, Sameer interrupted her, "ek baat puchun?" Naina turned and said, "pucho...".

"Beti ka naam kya hai...?" Sameer blurted.

Their eyes met. A hush fell around. And then Naina smiled and said, "Diya...".

Sameer managed a smile too and whispered, "acha naam hai...kabhi leke aana husband aur Diya ko...". And then he turned away from her. Naina left the cabin, while Sameer closed his eyes, blocking the tears threatening to ooze out.

As she stood waiting for the bus to arrive, Naina kept sobbing, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, not caring about the passerbys staring at her. He'd asked about Diya. A raw pain had seized Naina, wondering how life would have been if Sameer had married her instead..instead of...If only he hadn't abandoned her, played with her emotions, her life! She wondered helplessly when would her life straighten out. Would she ever be freed from her sorrows- the incessant troubles destiny threw her way? Would Sameer ever be normal- rather than switching from an angelic kind to a devilish rogue personality? Would it be a good idea to have a professional liaison with him? He'd made it clear he had no intentions apart from publishing her story. Could he change his mind later, blackmail her? No! No, he wouldn't. Despite his betrayal, somehow Naina couldn't bring herself to believe that Sameer was capable of such a depravity. She'd sensed he now respected the bounds of her marriage. And Diya? Whatever be it, she had to do it for Diya. There was no other option. She would keep her emotions in check. She would not give it back to Sameer for his folly all those years back. That would be her way of expressing her gratitude for his help at this crucial juncture. They could not be friends anymore, but they won't be enemies too. With these thoughts, Naina climbed the bus which halted in front of her and started her journey back home-back to where her daughter was waiting for her.