Page 5

With eager steps, she made her way to the back garden. And then, there it was.

The mango tree—a tree her grandmother had planted decades ago. Her Daadi had adored this tree, tending to it like a child, and even though she had passed away, it remained untouched, a living memory of a woman who loved it so deeply.

Its towering branches stretched towards the sky, the leaves swaying gently as if waving at her in greeting. Nandini’s lips curled into a soft smile as she stepped closer, her fingers instinctively reaching out to touch its rough bark.

“Missed you, Daadi,” she murmured, resting her forehead against the trunk.

The leaves rustled overhead, a few stray ones drifting down as if answering her.

“I know, I know,” she sighed dramatically, pulling back and looking up at the branches. “It’s been too long. But life’s been… complicated.”

A stronger gust of wind swept through the garden, making the branches sway.

She huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Oh, don’t start! I can already hear you,‘Nandu beta, no excuse is good enough for staying away from home for so long!’”

She mimicked her grandmother’s affectionate tone, shaking her head. “But I was busy, okay? Trying to build something of my own.”

She traced her fingers over the bark, her voice softening. “It didn’t work out, though.”

The leaves shivered above her as if offering comfort.

“I know what you’d say,” she continued, a small, wistful smile playing on her lips.‘So what? If you fall, dust yourself off and keep walking, my dear.’”

She chuckled. “Easy for you to say. You never gave up on anything, did you?”

A lone mango, still unripe, hung low enough for her to reach. She tapped it lightly.

“You remember how you used to pluck mangoes before they were ripe just because I was too impatient to wait?”

She grinned. “And Daadu would scold us both, saying,‘Let them ripen, you two troublemakers!’”

She exhaled slowly, letting the memories wrap around her like a warm embrace.

“I wish you were here, Daadi,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really do.”

Just then, a small gust of wind whistled through the branches, making the leaves dance.

She smiled. “That was a hug, wasn’t it?”

Shaking her head fondly, she leaned against the tree and closed her eyes. For the first time in months, she felt at peace.

But before she could get lost in her memories, a deep, gruff grunt broke the silence. She stiffened, her head snapping towards Villa No. 11.

The two villas were barely separated, thanks to this massive mango tree that stood stubbornly between them. Its thick branches stretched over the boundary like a bridge neither party wanted but both were forced to share. This was the only section where no boundary wall existed, courtesy of the tree that refused to pick a side.

Her grandfather had refused to have it trimmed, let alone cut it down.“Your Daadi planted this tree with her own hands,”he had declared more than once.“I won’t let some new-money businessman dictate what stays and what goes on my land.”

That “new-money businessman” was the current occupant of Villa No. 11, a man she had only heard about through her grandfather’s frequent complaints.

He had bought the villa six months ago, renovated it to death, and had since made it his personal mission to make Grandpa’s life miserable. According to Grandpa, the man had zero tolerance for anything ‘imperfect’—including stray mango leaves and fallen fruit that apparently ruined his pristine swimming pool.

Nandini rolled her eyes just thinking about it. Who buys a house next to a decades-old mango tree and then complains about the tree just existing?

Another grunt.

She took a step closer, peering past the thick leaves, and there she finally saw him.