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Samarth stumbled into his suite at the hour of sunset.

He had no memory of how he had reached there.

No memory of what he had done on the way.

Except, when the door clicked shut, and he looked at the impeccable space, he couldn’t figure out if he had lived this day or it was about to begin.

Was this another fever-induced delirium?

“Ehh!” Harsh’s yell burst his bubble. Samarth was looking right at him sitting on the couch and he hadn’t realised it.

Where have you been? Where’s your phone?

Samarth startled, reaching inside his pocket to check. Missed calls from Harsh. Messages.

I was out… he gestured.

Harsh got to his feet — Are you feverish? He began to stride towards him but Samarth changed tracks and found the door to his room. He rushed towards the bathroom.

“No, just had a long day at the… polo club. Sorry I did not see your texts.”

A bang on his door. He turned. Harsh didn’t look like he had bought it but he cocked his head.

Do you want to go out and eat dinner or ask Parmeshwar to cook and eat in?

“Eat in.”

Harsh had lived and travelled with him for two-thirds of his life.

By now he knew his silences, understood his movements.

And he also was adept at dealing with them.

So he backed off. Samarth went inside the bathroom, stripped and turned on the shower to the coldest blast. It wasn’t fever or delirium.

It was repentance that could not be lived now.

————————————————————

His thoughts did not let him sleep. He was afraid his thoughts would never let him sleep now.

The guilt, the regret, the pain that could not be moulded into thoughts.

The helplessness, the blankness, the gush of everything all at once that couldn’t be contained by him and him alone.

He had a daughter. He had become a father eight years ago?

Ava had her… raised her. Alone. She had come to him and he had all but thrown her out.

Blocked her. Cut all contact. How did she spend these eight years without telling him?

Without coming and slapping his face? Without screaming down their whole world?

How had she so quietly and so gracefully disappeared?

Samarth didn’t realise when his hand reached for his phone and his thumb found the second number on his Favourites list. He zapped out too late, when the ringer had already gone on for numerous rounds. He checked the time and his thumb went to end the call.

“Samarth?” Rajmata’s groggy voice crackled.

“Hi, Rajmata, I am sorry I didn’t see the time. Go to sleep.”

“Is everything ok?” Her voice went alert. “Are you ok? Fever relapse?”

“I am fine.”

“Wait.”

The rustle of fabric, a switch.

“Tara?” Papa’s groan in the background.

“Go to sleep.”

“Who is calling you so late?”

“Nadeem. You want to talk?”

A pause, more rustling and then the click of a door.

“Hello?”

“Rajmata, don’t wake Papa up, it’s nothing.”

“Papa is sleeping. I came out to the garden.”

Samarth took a deep breath.

“It must be late there in France… what? 2 am?”

“Hmm.”

“Why are you still awake? Or did you party too hard?”

There was no answering laugh he could muster at her attempt at a joke.

“I have a daughter, Rajmata.”

Silence.

“Can you repeat that, Samarth?”

“I…”

“Daughter?’

“Don’t repeat it there!”

“I am alone.”

“A daughter,” he blurted. “Mine. Exactly mine.”

A chuckle — “How…? Samarth, are you… did you drink or something?”

“No,” he sat up in bed. “I am sober. I… she is seven years old or eight. I didn’t exactly confirm but that’s the age she could be.

She is so amazing. She can ride like a pro, she is already galloping ponies and can control without needing to hold the reigns.

She knows how to open a door with a key on her own and she talks nonstop even if it is with a stranger… ”

A sob strangled out of him.

“Samarth,” Rajmata’s voice broke. “Samarth.”

He gulped the tears that were clogging his throat and reached for the glass of water. He downed half the liquid and his chest expanded on a long, deep breath.

“Did you drink water?”

“Yes.”

“Now sit back and put on the light.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

He rested on the headrest and switched on the bedside lamp. Rajmata’s call ended and he was staring at the blank screen for not even a fraction of a second before her FacetTime video call lit up his screen.

He swiped it right. Her side of the view was dark, some light illuminating the side of her face as she pushed her AirPods into her ears and walked to a bench seat in the garden. The light over it illuminated her. Her hair pushed behind her ears and her saree wrapped around her shoulders.

“Tell me everything from the beginning.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

He nodded. Then braced himself to re-live everything.

“I met her in school in Saraswati Crest…”

He told her everything. Everything. The good and the bad, the pretty and the painful.

About his oath and their first breakup. About meeting her again a decade later and reigniting their love in Paris.

About thinking of leaving Nawanagar and moving away, planning a life together to do just that.

And then finding out that Papa was gone.

“Why did you not say anything?” Was her only question.

“There was nothing to say after I threw her out of our palace.”

“When Papa came back safe and sound, Samarth!”

“He wanted me as the Rawal.”

Silence.

“And I understood his need to see me as the Rawal. I did,” he continued. “And then… I did not know what the future would hold for me. If a time like that came again, I would still be needed back in Nawanagar. Where would it leave us then?”

“That was not for you to think and stew in alone. Why didn’t you say anything to Papa? You told him everything!”

“I don’t know! I was so ashamed after sending her away that even if I had, there was no way I could face her again. I just moved on and lived, hoping she would finally move on with somebody and spend her life detesting me.”

“Is she? With somebody?”

“No. Not in the sense that he could be Brahmi’s father…” Samarth’s lightened chest swelled with pride. “Her name is Brahmi, Rajmata.”

Her eyes widened. And then her lips stretched, opening in awe.

“Brahmi?” She pronounced.

“Brahmi.”

Her incredulous smile was so, so full. Then she shook her head — “Papa needs to know this. He will go crazy…”

“No, no, please. Wait.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t even spoken to Ava. Today it was so awkward. Like a creep I kept sitting outside her house. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. Still don’t.”

“What do you mean you don’t?” Her voice hardened. “Don’t you dare tell me you will say goodbye and come back to sit quietly here!”

“I am not sure what I can offer them. Nawanagar is still there…”

“Ok, stop.” She sat up. “What do you mean ‘Nawanagar is still there?’ Nawanagar will always be there. You will get Nawanagar’s Maarani and Kumari home. That’s what you will do. Or do you not love her anymore?”

He remained silent. He hadn’t told her that he never intended to keep the throne. How would he manoeuvre his life now that he had a daughter, an heir? He would have to take her away, build his family away like he had once planned, and then hope for the best.

“You don’t love Ava, Samarth?”

He startled. That’s what she had surmised from his silence?

“Samarth, I am asking you something.”

“I have loved nobody but her since I was in 7th standard.”

She smiled — “Then I think now you have two girls you love that you need to win and bring back.”

“I should, right?”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not have the strength to look into Ava’s eyes.”

Rajmata’s own eyes lowered. Then came back up and met his through the camera.

“You saw me, you saw the things I have done. If there was some redemption for me then you are the epitome of selflessness. I don’t condone how you treated her that day in our palace. But if explained right, with time, and when the intentions are right between you two — things will settle down.”

“I don’t have time. My flight is in two weeks.”

“And there is something called postponing a flight.”

He pursed his lips.

“Stay there and do this. I will take care of everything here. Papa will take care of the kingdom and the business.”

“Don’t tell Papa before I tell you to.”

“Why?”

“Because he will demand to fly here or have us all airlifted. He will involve her parents, family, Gwalior… And Ava… she is a stranger to me right now.”

Rajmata stared at him for a beat. Then nodded.

“Try and make it quick, please. Your father is a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“Don’t talk about secrets,” he dropped his head back and his eyes fell shut. “It looks like my whole life has been wrapped in a secret cocoon and the butterfly has come out now.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“No,” he snapped his head back down to his phone.

“I wish I had. I miss looking at her now and I don’t even remember fully how she looks.

I couldn’t look away from her all day but now if I think…

I can’t exactly picture her. I’ll look at her properly tomorrow and describe her to you, unless Ava lets me have a picture. ”

“You do that. And is there anything else that is troubling you?”

He chuckled. “This is not enough?”

“This is enough and a bomb. But you never know,” Rajmata narrowed her eyes. “The boy I thought is not ready to settle down has had a whirlwind Bollywood romance already.”

“Go sleep, Rajmata. Or Papa will come hunting for you.”

“He sleeps like the dead between 11 and 6. How do you think your Late Night Boys Club has functioned smoothly all these years.”

“And here I thought it was because you kept him from raiding us.”