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EPILOGUE
MAAHI
Two Years Later - Ratna Mahal
I inform my assistant to oversee the designs scheduled for delivery next week. She assures me everything is on track, which finally puts me at ease. I check my phone—no calls, no messages. That’s good, right? Or should I worry? No, Daadi said not to worry.
I turn back to my laptop and check next week’s schedule. I have to meet Mrs. Ved to discuss designs for her son's wedding. She insists on the best for him and the bride. Blush Boutique has expanded to New York with a men’s line called Hunk Fashions. This was two years ago when I was five months pregnant. Managing it wasn’t easy, but thanks to my supportive family, everything fell into place. The surprise was having my husband, the hottest hunk in town, Vikram Singh Grover, inaugurate it. He was against the idea, but since I was pregnant, he didn’t refuse, and I didn’t need to convince him. Since then, he’s been buying all his clothes from Hunk Fashions. Isn’t that cute?
Suddenly, I feel the need to check my phone again. No calls, no messages. Good, right? Maybe. I check the time—it’s been four hours since I got to work and four more until I can go home. Should I call and check once? No, Daadi strictly forbade it. Well, I miss them. But tomorrow is the weekend, and I’ve already told my assistant I won’t be coming to the boutique. I can spend all my time with my family. Plus, Vikram mentioned he has some special plans, and I can’t wait.
Two more hours pass, and I’ve checked my phone countless times. No messages, no calls. Is that good? Should I check?
Yes! Absolutely yes. It’s been six hours since I left home, and I miss them terribly. It’s not my first day back at work after maternity leave. I’ve been coming to the boutique for six months now, but my family knows how much I stress about them while I’m at work. They’ve advised me not to call ten times a day to check on them.
Debating for a few minutes, I finally decide to call. Just as I’m about to, my phone rings. It’s Vikram.
“Finally,” I snap. “Is everything okay at home?”
He laughs instead of answering, making me even more curious.
“Vikram, I’m serious here, and you’re laughing?” I shout.
“Maahi,” he finally grunts.
My name in his husky voice still makes me squirm.
“Just relax, sweetheart. Everything is under control as always. You don’t need to worry.”
I sigh in relief. No matter how many assurances I get, the one from Vikram always calms me.
“Are you okay to fly to New York next month? Mom was asking because, you know, no one will go without you.”
I smile. That’s true. I might have delivered in New York, but we shuffle between the two countries every six months. Every time we plan this, my family checks my schedule and interest too, which is wonderful. Daadi has her own Satsang gang in New York now. She’s joined an Indian group there, so she’s happy in both countries. Devki Estate is flourishing with the Grover Foundation and the old age home we inaugurated a year and a half ago. We have enough management to care for those homeless elders who are now part of our family. It’s sad that people still abandon their old parents, but karma will get them. They’ll understand the pain when their children push them out. This cycle needs to break, which is why the Grover Foundation organizes events advising people not to take such harsh steps against their old parents. My mother-in-law has been a speaker at these events, sharing her own experiences. Her contribution to the foundation is remarkable. We’re all so proud of the woman she has become.
“Sweetheart?”
Vikram’s voice brings me back to reality. I forgot he was still on the call.
“Yes, I’m ready to fly whenever you all are. I’ll inform the team there accordingly once we’re set to go home.”
Home! The penthouse in New York is also my home.
“Good. One last question, Cub. Are you ready for a date tomorrow at Leela Mahal?”
Date? It’s been ages since we went on a date.
“Hmm.”
My response doesn’t sit well with him.
“Just ‘hmm’? If you’re not okay, we can reschedule.”
“I’m ready, Vikram. More than you know,” I quickly respond. “It’s just that...”
“I know,” he interrupts, sensing my worries. “They’ll be fine. Trust me on that.”
I do. I can trust Vikram and the family with my eyes closed.
