Nandini smiled at Sumer Singh as he welcomed her into the house.

"Come in...come in," he said warmly. "I was about to come to your house to meet you. How are you doing?" he asked unthinkingly, and then regretted it.

The dear girl looked fatigued and pale and utterly depressed.

"I'm fine, uncle," Nandini said cheerfully. "Just been very tied up with studies."

"Oh yes, your exams are approaching," Sumer Singh nodded, sitting down on a plush chair. "All the best! I'm sure you will clear all the papers with flying colours," he wished affectionately.

"Thank you," Nandini smiled, occupying a spot on the sofa. "Grandpa said you're leaving too?" she asked offhandedly.

Sumer Singh nodded uncomfortably. "Yes, I will be leaving tomorrow."

"Okay... in that case, could you return this to Prithvi?" she asked quietly, extending a small cloth bag.

"What is in it?" Sumer Singh asked blankly.

A gold chain, diamond anklets and a tiny marble idol of Krishna. "Just a few things he had....some things that were left behind," she replied vaguely.

Gifts, Sumer Singh realised sadly. "Nandini, I don't think I should accept these without asking him," he said delicately.

Prepared for the response, Nandini respectfully said, "He will not mind. At least two of them are precious... expensive items. He'll be happy to get them back. I can't keep them in my house any longer. I will have to get rid of them if you don't..."

"No, don't throw them! I'll take it," Sumer Singh said hastily, accepting the bag.

"Thank you," Nandini said in small voice, rising to her feet. She walked up to Sumer Singh and touched his feet.

Sumer Singh placed his hand on her head and blessed her silently.

When she straightened, he saw a damp shine in her eyes. But then she swiftly lowered her head and walked out of the house.

**********************

Prithvi could hear raised voices before he had reached the top of the winding marble stairs.

Evidently, Sumer Singh and Kadambari were having another of their acidic exchanges in what was beginning to appear ridiculously like a custody battle for him.

Petty skirmishes had begun from the instant Sumer Singh had arrived three days ago. Kadambari had displayed a refined hostility from the start. Sumer Singh had behaved courteously despite being browbeaten at every turn. However, the realisation that he was being pushed to the sidelines seemed to have put an end to his civility, and the situation had quickly deteriorated.

Under normal circumstances, he would definitely have found it hilarious, Prithvi mulled with a sigh as he strode along a lushly carpeted passageway towards the secluded section of the mansion. But in his current state, the silly and unceasing spats were getting on his nerves.

He came upon the opponents in the hallway that led to his room. Kadambari was standing at the entrance to the hallway and her girth ensured that it was completely blocked.

"I can see him when I wish to," Sumer Singh was saying angrily. "You don't have the right to stop me!"

"I have every right to stop you! Prithvi is tired and he is sleeping," Kadambari declared. "I will not let you disturb him."

"He doesn't sleep so early!" Sumer Singh objected. "And I have to meet him to - "

"You can wait till tomorrow morning!"

"He doesn't have to wait until then, Choti maa."

Sumer Singh turned with a look of profound relief. Kadambari peered around her rival to look at Prithvi.

"Why are you awake at this late hour?" she asked strictly.

"Because I'm not seven years old anymore," Prithvi replied impatiently, and before she could launch into another of her vehement heath directives, he grimly adjoined, "Sumer baba is as important to me as you are. He deserves to be treated with respect, and he has the right to meet me irrespective of the hour. Alright?"

"Alright...alright," Kadambari grumbled, giving in quickly but sourly. "But don't stay up for too long. Other people may not care, but I will not allow you to neglect your health," she announced vehemently.

"Save some taunts for tomorrow, Choti maa" Prithvi said dryly.

Kadambari sternly regarded him and Sumer Singh, and then waddled off, muttering incessantly under her breath about presumptuous servants who sat alongside their masters during meals and disturbed them at odd hours.

"She is being completely unreasonable, my lord," Sumer Singh protested once she was out of earshot.

"She is a woman. That gender is genetically incapable of being reasonable," Prithvi retorted darkly. "Anyway...what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked.

Sumer Singh's thoughts swiftly took an about-turn. He'd wanted to tell Prithvi about the bag entrusted by Nandini, having decided that he shouldn't keep postponing the unpleasant moment. But he couldn't discuss it tonight. Maybe tomorrow...

"I wish to accompany you tomorrow, my lord," Sumer Singh said nervously, raising the second issue on his mind.

"No," Prithvi refused. "It will be too tiring for you. It's late. Go back to your room and rest, and don't forget to take your medicines before you sleep," he instructed before turning away.

Saddened and feeling terribly helpless, Sumer Singh watched the prince head towards his room.

****************************

Two weeks later...

***************************

Nandini ran a disappointed gaze over her room. It was quite tidy and clean.

She had cleaned this room two days back, and then had proceeded to systematically dust all the rooms in the house. And now she was back where she started. She had to find something to do... to keep herself occupied...

Why couldn't her exams have been stretched for two or more weeks...

But they were over, and for the past week, she'd been trying to find one task after the other to keep busy until she could fall asleep because of exhaustion.

Nandini looked at the cupboard hopefully. She had not given it much attention for some weeks. Rearranging her clothes could keep her occupied for a while.

**********************

She found it nestled between her clothes.

A shirt. His shirt.

The one he had draped on her shoulders on the terrace that morning to conceal the tear in her dress from another man's eyes...

Stunned, she pulled it out slowly. One of her cotton kurtas came along, clinging to the shirt. The garments had gotten entangled somehow.

She had thought she had gotten rid of everything related to him. But the most personal item of all had remained with her... meshed with her dress in a queerly intimate manner....

Incensed, she pulled her dress free and tossed it on the bed along with her other clothes.

**********************

Concealing the shirt in the folds of her dupatta, Nandini tensely looked over the compound wall and felt relieved to see that Sankatmochan had simply bolted Ayodhya's doors from the outside as usual. No lock.

Nervously scanning the environs for witnesses, she stepped into Ayodhya's yard and hurried to the entrance of the house. She quickly opened the doors and entered the house.

Tensed and guilty, Nandini closed Ayodhya's doors, praying that the cupboard shouldn't be locked. She had to be very quick. If Sankatmochan returned home and saw her in Prithvi's room...

She cringed at the thought while rushing to the stairs and ascending them as fast as she could.

The chore ahead wasn't difficult, Nandini convinced herself. Go to his room, keep the shirt in the cupboard and walk out. It was easily manageable as long as she avoided spending a moment longer than necessary in that septic atmosphere.

The ill sensation in her stomach, however, intensified as she walked hurriedly towards her destination. But she didn't stop.... not until she found herself on the threshold of the empty room.

There her feet froze halfway, and Nandini suddenly wished she had just thrown the shirt away.

The room had been quite bare even when Prithvi was occupying it. Yet, there used to be some signs of his presence - a laptop, books, a photograph of his mother.

But now the table's surface was bare. Even the bed was stripped of its sheets.

The soft toy was also gone, Nandini realised abruptly. He surely hadn't taken it, had he? He mustn't have. It would be in the cupboard. Abandoned and forgotten... just like her. Battered by memories – some beautiful, some excruciating - she walked into the room, clutching the shirt tightly.

Thankfully, the cupboard was not locked and swung open to reveal its sparse contents. There were no clothes insides. Only a pile of his books and journals. A hand reached out to caress the tomes, but she retracted it at the last minute.

Eyes stinging with tears, Nandini kept the shirt in an empty section. Then, feeling like a horrid criminal, she reluctantly examined the shelves for the toy. But it wasn't there.

Had Sumer Singh or Sankatmochan placed it elsewhere after Prithvi had left? Or was it possible that Prithvi had actually taken it along. But if he had taken it... it meant he had known there was a strong possibility that he would be gone for a long time. And he'd still not believed it was important to tell her...

As her emotions seesawed between tenderness and acrimony, she looked at the journals. He had written in them. His hand had moved across their pages...

Before self-respect could dissuade her, she picked the topmost book and opened it. She leafed through the pages slowly and delicately, fighting a deplorable impulse to kiss and caress the pages that he had touched...

Then she turned a page and became stock-still. A second later, more hot tears clogged her eyes.

A confused face was staring back at her from a page.

Her face.

It was a stunning sketch. Though the features were hers, she was nowhere as good-looking as the girl in the sketch. The exquisiteness was of his talent alone. He had infused beauty into her.

The sheer skill behind the portrait was astounding. The image was throbbing with life. She could feel the uncertainty of a moment that she didn't remember...

Rocked by violent emotions. Nandini stroked the page with a shaking hand. Drops of water trickled down her cheeks and splattered on the page.

What did it say about him if he could feel so deeply about her and yet leave without as much as a goodbye...

What would it say about her if a mere sketch managed to shatter her mentally once again...

Embittered and furious all of a sudden, her fingers tore the page out of the book and threw it on the floor.

She looked at the journal. Were there more sketches inside? Were there similar portraits in the other journals as well?

No.... she didn't want to find out....

Controlling her tears, Nandini replaced the book in the cupboard. She picked up the paper from the floor, shred it savagely and threw the pieces back into the cupboard.

It would be a nice welcome gift for him if and when he returned, she decided spitefully and slammed shut the door.

*************************

Perched gingerly on a chair near the dining table, Sarojini's eyes anxiously moved from Janki Bhargava to her father-in-law, fully on alert to offer water or snacks at the slightest gesture from either of them.

She was completely frazzled by the visit of their esteemed guest.

The author had been scheduled to speak at Nandini's college few weeks ago, but she had cancelled her plans at the last minute. There was no news about Mrs Bhargava until two hours ago, when she had called up out of the blue.

She had asked Bhoothnath if it would inconvenience the family if she paid them a visit in the evening...

***************************

Nandini listened interestedly to the elderly woman in a grey cotton saree and gold-rimmed spectacles who was sitting on the couch with an arm affectionately holding Prakash to her side, sharing her fascinating experiences during travels to foreign countries.

The author's simple elegance and overall air of confidence were inspiring. Nandini wished she had an iota of that poise. Then she could have answered Mrs Bhargava's gentle questions without fumbling, she thought glumly. She had become a tongue-tied idiot from the moment she had met the great writer.

The sense of awe was heightened by a recent newspaper article that had hinted that the author was going to be conferred with a prestigious civilian honour very shortly, and that a political career was also in the offing.

It was thrilling to have such an eminent personality in their home. She had phoned her friends but Nishi was at relative's house and Vrinda was nursing a headache. Both wanted autographs. Nandini fervently hoped she would be able to make the request without making a fool of herself.

She stiffened on realising that the writer was addressing a question to her...

***************************

While listening to Nandini's timid and endearing description of her favourite books and authors, Janki was inwardly thanking her long experience of being in the public eye.

It had prepared her for this moment. For being able to maintain a calm façade despite wanting to break down and weep at her predicament.

How was she going to hand over Nandini to that despicable monster...

The young girl was so sweet and simple. And she was clearly a protected and cherished daughter of the family.

A family she had known since she was a little girl. Her acquaintance with Bhoothnath went back several decades. They had played together as children. Marriage and career had taken her away from Shamli. But she had very fond memories of his lovable son, Siddharth, and his kind-hearted wife, Bhavani... an unusually gorgeous woman...

Nandini was just as good-looking, if not more. The loveliness was obviously why that pervert had noticed the poor girl in the first place, Janki reflect dejectedly.

The Bharadwajs were an extremely orthodox and close-knit family. Any serious harm caused to Nandini could act as a death knell for all of them.

The magnitude of the sin she was going to incur was unimaginable.

She wouldn't have bowed to the blackmail if it was a question of only her life. Death could have been a way out. But the societal standing and reputation of her children and grandchildren too were at stake.

And her poor husband... a man who had willingly stayed in the backdrop while she rejoiced in the spotlight...

For him, if not for anyone else, she had to follow the monster's orders...

************************

Nandini stared at the stately visitor, sure that she had heard not right. And from the expressions on her grandfather and mother's faces, they seemed to be in the same boat as her.

"You want my granddaughter to work as your assistant? At your home in Vishranti Nagar?" Bhoothnath asked blankly.

"Yes. For a week or two. With remuneration," Janki Bhargava murmured. "My long-time assistant had to go to her village for a few weeks. Until she returns...."

Bhoothnath took a moment to phrase his response correctly. He didn't want to insinuate that his illustrious friend had gone mad, though her request suggested otherwise.

"Janki, I haven't allowed her to stay overnight at the homes of friends she has known since kindergarten. Sending her with you is out of the question," he said courteously.

"Don't decide in haste, panditji," Janki said easily, "I'm in Shamli for another day. You can let me know for sure by tomorrow." You're making the right decision...don't change it... don't send with her with me... please don't....

Nandini heard the exchange wordlessly, immensely grateful that her inputs weren't asked or required. She wouldn't have been able to utter one sensible word at the moment...

"But why do you want Nandini's help?" Bhoothnath questioned. "She is just a child. Why don't you hire someone who has some experience in this field?"

Sombrely, Janki embarked on a long explanation. It wasn't good or believable. But her usually agile mind had refused to cooperate much in the dastardly deed.

She was writing her autobiography and there was a deadline....she couldn't waste a week... It contained a lot of sensitive material.... references to several renowned political and media figures whom she had met in the course of her life...so she needed the help of someone who she could trust implicitly...especially since it had become nearly impossible to keep anything a secret these days with advancements in technology...moreover, Nandini was studying literature...and it would be good and valuable experience... the girl could mention it in her resume some day...

"It's just for a week or two at the most," Janki repeated at the end. "You can think about it and let me know tomorrow."

***************************

Prithvi lowered his spoon unconsciously as he listened to the absurd news.

"She's going where with whom?" he asked sharply, while gesturing curtly to forbid Kadambari from replenishing the rice in his plate.

Sumer Singh paused in the middle of drinking buttermilk.

On the basis of three factors, he could easily guess the reason for Prithvi's frown. He had seen Sankatmochan's name flash on the phone. Though Nandini's name had not been mentioned in all these days, there was only one "she" whose mention could elicit extreme reactions from the prince within seconds. And lastly, Bhoothnath had called him up for advice a while ago. He'd truthfully said he believed it was a wonderful and exciting opportunity, and Nandini should not let it pass.

"She's not allowed to step out of the house after sunset, but she can stay with some random people in another city for two weeks?" Prithvi snarled on the phone.

Warily watching the prince's reactions as Sankatmochan elaborated on the subject, Sumer Singh kept the glass back on the table. He sincerely hoped his name would not come up.

"Alright...I want to know of it immediately if he decides to send her," Prithvi snapped. He cut the call and looked irately at Sumer Singh.

"You told them it was a great idea to send her off with that lady?" he asked coldly.

Swallowing hard, Sumer Singh weakly said, "I felt it would be a fruitful experience for Nandini. Mrs Bhargava is a renowned author. Famous name in the literary world. She has won many awards and -"

"Precisely," Prithvi agreed sarcastically. "It will take her a minute to have a hundred candidates knocking at the door even for a temporary post. So why does she need Nandini for this rubbish," he demanded sceptically.

"Bhoothnathji has known her since childhood. The families have been friends through thick and thin. I think that is why she is offering this chance to Nandini," Sumer Singh comforted, "You mustn't worry. Mrs Bharagava has an impeccable reputation."

 "And people are always what they seem, aren't they?" Prithvi mocked.

**************************