“Of course,” Abhinav replied, far too easily.
Naina made another sound. Meera pressed her lips together again.
Sarita turned to her. “Meera?”
Meera nodded. “Ji, Maa Ji.”
She didn’t look at him. Felt his gaze on her anyway.
???
By afternoon, the Haveli had transformed.
Storage rooms opened. Silver vessels came out, polished until they mirrored the sun. Trunks unlocked. Lists formed, dissolved, formed again.
Rooms cleared. Mattresses spread across floors. Fresh linens shaken out and laid in the sun.
The kitchens followed. Rations doubled, then rose again, preparing for a house that would soon hold more life than usual.
In the gardens, men stood in clusters, debating bloom cycles. Which flowers would peak in time. Which would last. Which must be cut now. Which must wait for the exact morning.
Through all of it, Sarita moved without pause. Every step purposeful. Every decision immediate. No time wasted, because her son had given her none.
The next morning, the jeweller arrived.
His case required two men to carry.
Meera sat cross-legged on the floor while Sarita tried piece after piece against her, adjusting, assessing, deciding.
Naina circled them, restless, bright with energy that refused to settle. Her pencil moved rapidly across her sketchbook, new designs appearing faster than thought.
“This one.” Sarita lifted a kundan set to Meera’s throat.
“Too heavy.” Naina cut in. “Save it, Maa. She needs movement.”
Pages flipped.
“I have it.” She turned the sketch toward Meera. “Bhabhi, look.”
Meera studied it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Of course it is.” Naina turned to the jeweller. “Can you make this in ten days?”
The jeweller hesitated. “I can try…”
“Don’t try.” Naina’s tone remained pleasant. Absolute. “Do it.”
Meera pressed her lips together and reached for the bangles in front of her, studying them far more seriously than necessary.
By afternoon, choices multiplied.
Invitations. Threadwork. The shade of marigold at the entrance. The border of the main thali.
Each time she hesitated, Sarita remained calm. “You must choose, Meera. This is your wedding.”
By the fifth decision, hesitation faded.
By evening, she stopped noticing when Naina called her Bhabhi.