When he came back, Meera stood at the long table, fingers moving over labels, instructions cutting through the noise.
She didn’t look up, just pointed again. “Those. Next load.”
Not Hukum. Not Boss. Not Abhinav.
Those.
A boy nearby choked on air.
Abhinav picked up the next container. Somewhere, very calmly, he decided he was going to return this favour. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know how. But Meera Chauhan was going to find herself in a situation entirely of his design, and when it happened, he was going to make sure she remembered this morning.
In detail.
He walked out again.
Inside, Meera remained very occupied with labels, counts and instructions.
She was absolutely not thinking about Thakur Abhinav Kumar Anand carrying twenty-kilo containers like this was his new morning routine.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
‘Maa, I am enjoying this far too much.’
Label checked.
‘This is for the Haveli. This matters. I am a responsible person.’
Another container marked.
‘He hasn’t complained.’
She bit her lip.
‘This is suspicious.’
Another mark.
‘I am definitely going to pay for this.’
A breath.
‘Still worth it.’
“Meera.”
She looked up.
Devendra stood beside her, watching the door through which Abhinav had disappeared again.
“Ji, Babuji?”
He looked at his daughter, then at the door, then back at her, and said absolutely nothing.
Meera lowered her eyes to the clipboard. Her shoulders shook.
By the time Abhinav returned, the kitchen had eased into final checks. He stopped near the table and waited.
Meera finished her list and looked up.