In a few months Madhabi had recovered almost completely, still Nobin treated her like a fragile porcelain doll, ensuring utmost care and giving her individual attention. It was as if he was trying to compensate for eighteen long years of having taken her for granted and soon his life began to revolve around his wife who he came to regard as his first child, having thoughtlessly entrusted her with the arduous task of bringing up their children single-handedly . During the months of caring for her he discovered her secret cache, including her diary, her scrapbook in which she had recorded the minutest details of bringing up their two children, and most importantly, the personal notes she had been writing him but could never bring herself to deliver . Amongst the sepia toned picture albums he noticed that besides their wedding pictures there were hardly any photographs of the two of them together in the same frame. It was a poignant reminder of  how he had held an innocent girl's happiness to ransom while he was cavorting with another woman through their best years.

She had beautiful penmanship, the thoughts that had never found utterance before him were sincerely put down on paper. Although the pages that had been written in Bangla had yellowed with the passage of time the words, their every syllable seemed to him like a treasure, providing him with a window to her guileless soul. She wrote about her longing to fulfil her role towards him like a typical wife, having taken care to discover his favourite dishes and learning to prepare them, but never had the opportunity to serve him those. She had been taking lessons in English conversation and social etiquette hoping that some day he would present her to his friends and business associates. She had knitted him a pullover which had been languishing in her wardrobe because she had never presented it to him, afraid that his lack of reciprocity might break her heart. Not knowing how he felt about her kept a tiny hope alive that he actually did care about her; and she continued to appreciate him for being respectful toward her and providing security for her and the children.

He knew he was being intrusive while going through her diary without her permission, but there was no other way he could have discovered how much she had been in love with him, manifesting it in her poetry where she addressed him as Madhav or Lord Krishna. He saw his sketches that she had made, unaware hitherto of the amazing talent her fingers were privy to with attention to the finest details, like the pattern on his favourite neck ties and cravats. And he had not even bothered to remember her birthday or their anniversary while he lavished gifts on Rosa for trivial reasons. In the scrapbook there were meticulous details about their children's milestones, she had records of their heights, weights, teething, their immunisation schedules,gifts they received, scholastic achievements, their tiny palm and footprints along with their photographs, over the years. She had carefully preserved the locks of their baby hair and their milk teeth for their father to see, as he was hardly around at the time.

Nobin realised that so far he had unwittingly been the villain in his own marital life, it was now time to become the knight in shining armour to his lady love. When her passport arrived he asked her about the places in the world she would like to travel to. Without looking him in the eye she uttered that she would be happy to accompany him to any place he had never visited before. Nobin was intelligent enough to get her veiled message that she would rather not be in places where he had the romanced other women, which meant that England and South East Asia would never be in the itinerary. So firm was she on this notion that through her life she never stepped into Ballygunge or Park Street in Kolkata where Nobin had spent years with Rosa. They may have driven trough the neighbourhoods, but she never got off from the car while there. She did not have any tangible whims he could indulge her in, so he just let her have her way with things that mattered to her.

When they did travel they toured Continental Europe extensively as a couple, and with the children they made trips to the USA and Australia. He took special care to ensure that the hotels where they stayed or the airlines which they travelled by took care of Madhabi's special dietary needs. It was ironic how as the years went by Madhabi became more and more familiar with the western lifestyle while her husband became a traditional Bengali Babumoshai in personal life, effortlessly switching to the European way when business demanded it. No one who knew them could tell how distant the couple had been through the initial years of marriage, they were inseparable now as Nobin would never let his wife out of sight.

While Robin was a sensible boy and adapted to the change in his parent's relationship gladly, Renuka being the more sceptical of the two had some reservations, until one day Nobin gave her a strong sermon establishing boundaries, making it inevitable for her to show respect to her mother. Renuka had always admired her father, he had been her ideal, so she had little choice but to fall in line. She noticed how her father had suddenly become fiercely protective of Madhabi, ensuring she got her due as his wife and daughter-in-law of the household. Renuka did not dare displease her father. If only she had realised that her mother loved the children selflessly, indeed after the challenging period of her courtship and runaway marriage with Harsh it was her mother who was responsible for reconciliation between the adamant father and his imprudent daughter. Robin, the obedient son, had settled down with a girl of his father's choice and was given the posh Ballygunge apartment as his wedding gift.

Madhabi found true joy when Randhir was born, she became a mother to him. It gave her a chance to share parenting with Nobin like never before, since Renuka had left her few weeks old son in their care because she was too busy managing the Sanyal-Shekhawat empire with her brother and her husband, her father having opted for semi-retirement. Randhir and Arohi were born a few months apart but Robin's wife and her baby were initially cared for in her maternal home as per custom. Bringing up Randhir and Vidushi until they were ready for school filled Madhabi with a new zeal for life. The grandparents would take the children on long drives and short holidays, treat them to their favourite delights and put them to sleep with fables and fairy tales. The children acquired a taste for lemon tea which their lactose-intolerant grandmother enjoyed for breakfast and high tea. Durga Puja would be the most exciting festival when the whole family got together at the Rajbari to worship the beautiful idol hand-crafted in Kumortuli. Years later after their grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, she left their grandfather grieving for the rest of his life.

 The years he spent with his Didima were Randhir's best memories. If he hurt himself during play she would make him breathe deeply to distract him from the pain as she applied a salve on his wound. When he was still a toddler she shared with him her attachment to the night jasmine she had planted when she arrived in the Rajbari as a new bride so she may have the flowers to worship her favourite Krishna idol with. Through years of loneliness her devotion, the fragrance of the flowers and her Madhav poems that were actually dedicated to her husband became her constant companions, healing her hurt as much as possible. To Randhir, the jasmine tree came to symbolise a panacea that his grandmother held in high regard, and years later he had planted the sapling from the same jasmine tree's seed to comfort a distressed ten year old Sanyukta, binding the two of them in an unspoken legacy which carried Madhabi's blessings for their eventual union.