Chapter 8: May Nights and New Worries

May is a cruel month. At night, you don’t go out unless you must. The air was thick with heat and mosquitoes. I bolted the doors, doused the lamp, and prayed for rain.

I closed up early, coaxed Meera to sleep, opened the trunk, and counted my savings—rupees and coins, each one wrapped in an old dupatta beneath the Ganesh idol. Meera snored softly, dreams undisturbed by my worries.

If the Sharma family were released, if Mr. Sharma could return to his job, that would be best. If not—where would they live? What would they eat? Could the two young masters still study? What would become of the eldest?

I dared not think further. I couldn’t buy a house, only rent a bigger one. But even my savings weren’t enough. I’d have to think of another business. With only the boat income, who knew how long it would take to support the boys’ studies? I promised myself I would do whatever it took—no shame in honest work.

I fell asleep at the table. When I woke with a start, I didn’t know when he’d arrived—just sitting across from me in the darkness, the weight of his presence a new beginning.