The representative made a sharp sound.
Darkness swallowed the gallery. Only natural light filtered through the screens, scattering across the portraits. Faces caught the glow at angles that made their eyes seem alive.
Meera stayed where she was. She had always found it charming.
“The older wing has electrical issues. Old wiring. It needs work.”
Footsteps rushed from the corridor. Too fast.
Rajan appeared in the doorway, breath uneven. “Sorry, Didi. The fuse tripped.”
Meera kept her gaze on him. “Fix it.”
“Yes, Didi.”
He disappeared.
The lights returned within seconds.
The representative adjusted his collar. “This will require major updates.”
“Within heritage limits,” Meera replied. “The Haveli does not accept every change.”
‘I’m sorry.’
A beat.
‘No, I’m not. Maa… am I sorry?’
Kul Devi, as always, declined to comment.
They stepped out into the eastern courtyard. Afternoon light filtered through the carved screens, touching faded paintings, turning them gold.
It was genuinely beautiful.
A pair of crows landed on the ledge above them. And immediately began a very loud argument about something only they understood.
‘Perfect.’
“Beautiful.” The representative looked up.
“It is.” Meera’s voice softened. “Though…”
She let the thought linger.
“Some staff avoid coming here after dark.”
He turned. “Why?”
She seemed to consider the answer. “Old beliefs.”
Her fingers lifted as she counted. “Three deaths. Different generations. Heatstroke. Childbirth. Snakebite. No connection. No pattern.”
A breath.
“But you know how beliefs outlive their reasons.”
She met his eyes. “It affects staffing at times.”