Page 68 of When Love Trespassed

Almost a year later – Raichand Villa

The old mango tree still stood tall between Raichand Villa and Shaurya’s villa, its branches stretching wide, unapologetically dropping leaves into Shaurya’s pool every now and then.

That part hadn’t changed. And honestly, he didn’t mind it anymore.

The fight between him and Grandpa over the tree had ended long ago.

The solution? Simple. Now, the pool was cleaned twice a day, and Shaurya could swim whenever he liked, no longer needing to visit the community centre pool in Serene Meadows.

It was a beautiful day. Though it was the tail end of May, a gentle breeze stirred through the trees, offering a rare and welcome respite from the heat. The sun hadn’t set yet, casting a warm, golden glow over the rooftops.

Shaurya crossed the threshold of the Raichand Villa to check if Grandpa was ready for the evening’s main event. It was Varun and Priya’s engagement today.

Yes. Finally, it was happening.

Dressed in a deep jade kurta embroidered with fine silver detailing along the collar and cuffs and paired with ivory churidar pants, Shaurya looked the picture of suave elegance.

His sleeves were rolled just enough to reveal a luxurious watch, and the lean muscle on his forearms. Classic and still every bit the showstopper.

Gone was the brooding, buttoned-up businessman Serene Meadows had once nicknamed ‘grumpy neighbour.’ Marriage had done him good.

He carried himself with ease now, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness and contentment.

Even Grandpa had noticed the change. There was something about him that felt.

.. settled. As if life had finally given him everything he’d once thought he couldn’t have, and now, he’d learned exactly how to hold on to it.

Grandpa stood in his bedroom, adjusting his silk kurta in the mirror, when Lakshmi entered.

“It’s Mishraji on the line,” she said, putting her phone on mute. “He wants to know when to send his team for trimming the mango tree.”

Grandpa turned around. “Tell him to send them this weekend.”

Just then, Shaurya appeared in the doorway, catching the tail end of the conversation. Lakshmi stepped aside to confirm the schedule with Mishraji.

“Trimming? Why now?” Shaurya asked, entering in. “I don’t recall complaining about the tree anymore. The pool is being cleaned twice a day, and I’ve been able to swim regularly. So, what’s the sudden rush?”

Grandpa smiled knowingly, as if anticipating the question. “Son, a fully grown mango tree needs regular pruning to stay healthy. The last time Mishraji’s team came to trim was over a year ago. It’s not about complaints anymore. It’s all about caring.”

Shaurya nodded slowly.

Grandpa walked over to the window and gazed at the swaying branches.

“A good trim in late summer helps the tree grow back stronger, with fresh blooms and sweeter fruit. Call it maintenance. When Ambika was alive…” he paused, his voice softening, “she coordinated all of it herself. She never missed a single tree trimming, fertilising, or pest check. That was her way of caring for what she loved.”

He sighed, a breath full of memory and longing. Then he turned back to Shaurya, his eyes tender now. “After I’m gone, you and Nandini will have to remember these things. To carry on what Ambika began. To take care of the tree.”

Shaurya’s expression shifted hard and fast. The warmth in his eyes darkened with protest. “Don’t,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t talk like that.”

Grandpa looked at him with quiet surprise.

“After everything,” Shaurya continued, emotion rising in his throat, “I finally have a father figure in my life. You. And I’m not letting you go anywhere. I’ve even asked Daadi to stop bothering you to ‘join her up there.’ ”

His voice cracked slightly as he added, “Nandini and I… we need you here. With us. Always.”

Grandpa chuckled.

“I’ll always be around with my children.”

“Thank God Nandini didn’t hear you talk about leaving us again, or else it would have been difficult to keep her emotions in check,” Shaurya added.

Grandpa laughed, and Shaurya added with a teasing grin, “And you know, calling Mishraji for the trimming? Smart move. If Daadi’s soul lives in this tree, she deserves to be pampered every year and taken care of, right?”

A smile tugged at Grandpa’s lips. “She would love that, yeah,” he said.

“Now, are you ready?” Shaurya asked, giving Grandpa a quick once-over. Suddenly, he paused, frowning. “One second, why are you not wearing that brooch Nandini asked you to wear with this kurta?”

He went to the closet.

Grandpa pointed to the small box on the top of the shelf.

Shaurya reached up, took the box, and removed the golden peacock brooch.

With careful fingers, he pinned it neatly to the left side of Grandpa’s kurta, just above the chest. He smoothed out the fabric to ease any creases and even straightened Grandpa’s collar.

“It’s Varun’s engagement party tonight. Not mine,” Grandpa grumbled, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“So what?” Shaurya teased, stepping back to admire his work. “You’re still the guest of honour.”

Grandpa’s eyes twinkled. “That’s true.”

Varun had always held a special place in Grandpa’s heart. Though he was Shaurya’s best friend, his every visit to Shaurya’s villa was incomplete without a quick stop at the Raichand Villa just to check on Grandpa, joking, gossiping, and relishing his favourite mango barfi.

And now, seeing Varun’s long-awaited engagement finally happening, it felt like a personal joy.

Everyone had known for over a year that Varun and Priya were meant to be.

Both families had given their blessings long ago, but the engagement and wedding were delayed for one reason only: Priya’s higher education.

She had enrolled in an advanced business management degree, and with one more year still left to complete, she was clear about her priorities.

She knew that marrying in the middle of her course would only divide her focus and affect her studies.

So, she and Varun mutually decided to wait.

Though truth be told, Varun had been eager and borderline desperate to tie the knot much sooner.

But he respected her choice and supported her through it all.

And today, with the engagement finally taking place, and the wedding set for next month, it felt like a celebration long overdue.

Grandpa couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Varun and Priya make a lovely pair,” Grandpa said, admiring his brooch on the kurta. “And with the wedding next month, I’m finally going to get to see you two dance together at his baraat.”

Shaurya couldn’t help but grin, recalling Varun’s sly warning just weeks ago. Lounging over a mango lassi by Shaurya’s pool, Varun had nudged him and said, “If you and Nandini don’t dance at my baraat, I’m halting the whole procession. And I mean it.”

Shaurya had laughed then, shaking his head in mock exasperation, but deep down, he’d known that Varun was not kidding.

“And this time,” Varun had added, poking Shaurya in the chest for emphasis, “I want to see you dance. Khulke. None of those stiff, polite, ‘Shaurya Ahuja’ moves like you did at your own sangeet. I want rhythm. Madness. Let yourself loose kind of dance. So, you better surprise me.”

So yes, whether he liked it or not, he and Nandini were going to have to be the life of that baraat, not just for the sake of tradition, but to meet Varun’s challenge head-on.

Shaurya snapped back to the present and smiled at Grandpa, who now looked ready for the event.

“Well, now that you are all set, I will go check on my wife. She’s been a busy bee today,” he said, then turned to Lakshmi. “Lakshmi, could you please help Daadu downstairs while I go get Nandini?”

Lakshmi, already dressed for the event, quickly assisted Grandpa downstairs while Shaurya hurried out to his villa.

Moving between the two villas now felt like second nature to him, as if they were simply two wings of the same home, shared by a single family.

Since their wedding, life had settled into a comfortable routine.

Nandini’s parents had returned to London, and it wasn’t long before Shaurya, Nandini, and Grandpa had joined them there for the couple’s honeymoon.

It had been a quiet, healing trip for Grandpa.

He’d enjoyed the time with his son and daughter-in-law, who’d ensured his every need was taken care of before he even asked.

Shaurya and Nandini, meanwhile, enjoyed quiet moments together, basking in their new marriage, while never too far away from their family, dropping by every few days to spend time with them.

Six months later, Nandini was ready in her home studio at Shaurya’s villa, carefully testing the final batch of mango-based skin-care products—mango-pulp hydrating masks, leaf-extract toners, under-eye creams, and peel-away scrubs—all inspired by her late Daadi’s handwritten notes and age-old formulations.

It was awe-inspiring to think that in just six months, she had researched, developed, and launched her own brand, Ambika Organics , named after her Daadi, as a tribute to her legacy.

The mango-based line was not just nostalgic, it was powerfully effective too.

Packed with vitamin-rich mango pulp and seed butter, each product was a perfect blend of tradition and science.

Her under-eye cream, in particular—a mix of mango butter, caffeine, and aloe, became an instant bestseller, with sales soaring off the charts the moment it was launched.

Finally, Ambika Organics had taken off. The digital launch had been a smash hit, and social media buzzed with snapshots of radiant skin, unboxing videos of mango-filled skincare kits, and glowing reviews. Within weeks, the demand skyrocketed.