Meera opened the door. The brass bowl on the side table overflowed with jasmine.
Too much.
“Add roses,” she instructed. “Half and half. Jasmine alone in this heat will be too strong by morning.”
Rajan nodded and hurried off.
In Naina’s room, the writing desk sat pushed into a corner.
“Move it near the window. Bai Sa will want light.”
They shifted it at once.
The largest room stood at the end of the corridor.
The Thakur’s room.
Abhinav’s room.
Meera stopped at the doorway. She did not step in.
The four-poster bed stood ready. White sheets. A writing desk. Low seating near the window.
The room felt untouched. As if it had been waiting.
“Didi?” Rajan came up beside her, holding fresh towels. “Should I?”
“Yes.” The word came sharper than she intended. She eased it. “Curtains straight. Water jug full. Towels folded well. Check the window latch. It sticks in this weather.”
Rajan nodded and went inside.
Meera stayed where she was.
A thought rose.
‘Leave it. No water. No flowers. No welcome. Let him walk into an empty room and understand.’
But that would not wound him. It would wound the Haveli. That, she would never allow.
“Make sure it’s perfect.” She walked away before her resolve could waver.
Dubai
Abhinav and his family left for Jaipur.
The private jet moved through a clear morning sky, turning south.
Three Anands, returning.
Sarita sat with her hands resting in her lap, her gaze set on the window. Dubai receded under them in clean lines of glass and steel.
She watched in silence.
Abhinav did not try to read her face.
Naina sat opposite, her phone in hand, her fingers moving without pause. Lists took shape, one after another. Ideas followed. Her excitement had no patience.
Abhinav remained still.