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He had set up the coffee table in record time.

Brahmi had wanted him to see ‘how she went to sleep.’ So he had sat through her bath time, then seen her go through a parade of night dresses until they both agreed that this was ‘it.’ Post which, she had settled into bed, discussed the breakfast menu and demanded that ‘white idli thing’ again and asked for a story.

Ava had reached for her story books but he had drawn up his childhood stories from Hira ben and began narrating.

This one of Krishna as a child when he had gone to steal makhan from a gopi’s house.

She had caught hold of his hand and dragged him down the streets of Gokul to take him to his mother with proof that her beloved son was a thief.

But in the village square, she had run into her in-laws and was forced to throw her chunari over her face.

“And then,” Samarth narrated. “When she left Krishna’s hand to throw her chunari over her forehead and eyes, he slyly caught the hand of her son and pushed it into hers. Her son was Krishna’s friend so you can imagine what he did.”

“Went with her,” Brahmi giggled, starry-eyed.

“Exactly.” He grinned. “When she reached Yashoda Maiya’s house and pushed the boy in front of her with a — “‘Here’s you beloved thief!’ Yashoda Maiya couldn’t stop laughing.”

Neither could Brahmi. She asked for another story but he had some errands to run, so he grabbed one of her storybooks, Winnie the Pooh, and promised a new Krishna story the next night.

He had read her three pages of the illustrated book, discovering the merits of the story himself, then passed it to Ava when Brahmi’s eyes had gone half-droopy.

He had quietly slipped out and prayed that his daughter would take a little longer to doze off because he still had the charcuterie board to set up with the treats he had ordered.

He was only halfway done when Brahmi’s door clicked open and then closed.

“Wait there, don’t come, Ava!” He whisper-shouted.

She came anyway, in her nightly silk shorts and spaghetti top, her hair tied up, thinking she would rain on his parade.

Samarth knew he was a lucky man when his gaze caught her bare calves, then raised up to her knees, up her stomach, those full breasts and to her bare face. Glowing but ready to sleep.

“Enjoy your wine and chocolates, shut off the main lights in the hall but leave the night light on for Brahmi, aah!” She squealed when he rose up and gathered her in his arms at the same time. She was still so tiny. “Samarth!”

“Shhh,” he strode around the coffee table to the sofa and lowered himself with her in his arms. Before she could protest, he stretched out and placed her between his legs, locking her effectively.

“Make another noise and Brahmi might wake up and then she will see there’s this chocolate party here, share it with us and not sleep all night, then be late for tomorrow’s riding lessons. It’s a vicious cycle, Ava. Wanna get into it?”

She huffed, her nostrils flaring like an irked horse. He tenderly caught her chin and brought her face around to his. Her brows were knitted in a frown, her mouth turned down.

“Hi,” he smiled.

Her head fell back on the sofa’s headrest and he cupped her nape, cradling it, massaging it.

Her body instantly relaxed. So that was the magic key?

Samarth got comfortable with her looped like a noodle between his legs and quietly kept rubbing her neck.

Long moments passed. Long minutes. She didn’t say anything.

He felt her breathing go shallow. Shallower.

But her eyes were open, staring straight up.

“Is the wine chilled?” She asked.

“Of course it is,” he pecked her bare shoulder and leaned away to pour her a glass.

He handed her the red and poured another one for himself.

She sipped silently, still lost. And he let her be.

That was the moment, sipping her favourite wine beside her, when Samarth realised that maybe she never got this in the last eight years.

A night to relax, by herself, with somebody by her side to just be.

Not talk, not ask, not chatter but just be.

He hadn’t had such a night either but his was out of choice. Hers was out of compulsion.

“How is Harsh?” Ava asked, her first question that he hadn’t prompted.

“Good,” he smiled. “He knows, he is here with me. He is still mad at me. He wanted to come along to meet you but I didn’t want to burst this bubble yet.”

“When is your match? Or is it a tournament?”

“I’m not here for polo.”

She frowned, eyes still up at the ceiling — “You don’t play anymore?”

“Sparingly.”

“Why are you in Loire then?”

“I came to recover.”

Her head pushed up from the headrest and her eyes roved his face, down to his shoulders, his arms.

“What happened to you?”

“Dengue. We had an outbreak in Nawanagar. First Sharan and then me.”

“Sharan must be a young man now.”

“Young man and still the baby,” Samarth shook his head.

“Why didn’t he come?”

“His wasn’t so bad. He was back on his feet and conducting his experiments before the fourth day was up.”

“And yours?”

“One night was bad. But it passed.”

Ava sipped her wine, the conversation passing into silence.

“I dreamt of you,” he confessed. She glanced at him.

“In my fever-induced delirium. You were a mix of all the Avas I had known. Fairy-faced from school with your impish smiles, wearing your pink saree like Raje, going into Cherry’s stall.

I pleaded to you to stop, kept screaming, but you wouldn’t.

My muscles were so weak I couldn’t move to get to you.

I tried, I think I fought physically in Rajmata’s lap but I am not too sure… ”

“The whacko was there?” Ava scoffed.

“She was the one who brought me back from that dream.”

Ava’s scoff dropped hearing his solemn words.

Samarth reached up and cupped her jaw, stroking his thumb across the base of her cheek.

“I have spent eight years in your thoughts. My first waking thought, my first song of the day, my first dread the moment I crossed paths with somebody we both knew and the conversation led remotely close to you. I ran scared of playing polo abroad. I did not want to know that you have a life of your own. I did not want to be compelled to stop thinking about you.”

She swallowed. “I had a living, breathing part of you.”

“And you raised it to be such a glory,” Samarth sat up, holding her face between both his hands. Her forehead fell on his and he breathed with her.

“Mummy gave me an option, to let it go. She told me it was a baby but choosing practicality was alright. She said I wasn’t committing a sin by letting it go and choosing myself.

She gave me the decision and took away the guilt.

But even when the guilt was gone, there was no life in which I wouldn’t choose her.

I didn’t know her then but there was no way I wouldn’t…

” her voice broke. Samarth pressed his mouth to her forehead, pulling her face closer to his.

“You weren’t there, I couldn’t say anything and they had to accept a baby whose father was a question mark to them. They had to brave the storms with Kaka Maharaj for me. I was so guilty for what I was causing but I couldn’t give it up. Maybe I became selfish…”

“You were the king and the commander and the vizier but even greater than that,” he cut her off. “You turned out to be the queen, Raje.”

Her face rose to his and her eyes were red, teary.

“If you say you were selfish then the world will have to change the definition of selfish.”

Her lashes blinked, coming back up wet and clustered. He stroked his knuckles down the corner of her eye.

“From the moment you walked away from me in Saraswati Crest you have given your life to me. I couldn’t cherish it, I couldn’t even hold it safe.

Your resentment with me right now is my mountain to climb but I see it as the most legitimate mountain of my life.

You can keep brushing me off all our life, you can keep taunting me, keep behaving any way you want, go hot and cold, use me and then throw me.

And I would still not be in a position to even ask for your forgiveness at the end of it all… ”

“Don’t be so good, Samarth.”

“This is me. I can’t help it. I am baked and ready.

What I can help is how I use myself in service of you and my daughter.

It would be a dream to be happy again with you, to have that house and that life we thought about in Paris.

But even if I don’t have it for the rest of my life but have you both, it will be worth it. ”

“You don’t want me to be happy?” Her face twisted in a scowl, tears suddenly beginning to track down her cheeks.

“No,” he pushed them away with his thumbs. “I want most in this world for you to be happy. I don’t know if I deserve it. But I am going to be a shameless man and keep mooching off wherever whatever little I can get.”

Her arms bounded around his neck and he recoiled when her head landed in the crook of his shoulder. Her body began to shake and soft sobs echoed in his skin.

“Ava…” he stroked her back, squeezing her tight. “Shhh.”

“You missed seven years of her life, I missed you, I missed you…”

“Shhh…” tears made their way down the bridge of his nose.