CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, we were all sitting at the dining table, my Mumma was busy trying to stuff Arnav and I full with those lovely sandwiches she’d made. Arnav had woken me up late, as he’d again sabotaged my alarm earlier in the morning, and he called my name “Kriti ji,” in the same caring way you’d use to awaken a baby. He was all handsome and ready to go before he roused me. Why did he always do that to me? It made me feel stupid, him looking like that and I still in my nightie. I’d forgotten all about my anger with Daddy, like I always did. I could never hold a grudge against anyone. And, after all, he was my father, how could I forget that love we both had for each other? My eyes fell upon Arnav. Of course I knew the reason for his amused grin. I was busy talking with Daddy. I was a little embarrassed as I remembered that I’d decided, last night during my emotional trauma, that I wouldn’t come back home again after today.

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