Chapter 23: The Answer

By the second week of December, Mira had a flat of her own.

It was on the third floor of a building in Greater Kailash, one street from Nandini's.

It had two rooms, a balcony and a landlord who lived in Dubai.

The kitchen smelled of her mother's mustard oil.

Her mother had stayed nine days and left on the Tuesday train.

Before she went, she had hung a calendar on the wall and written "Dev, Thursday" on it in red pen, with a question mark.

Mira had left the question mark where it was.

On Thursday at seven, Dev knocked.

He had brought nothing this time, not sweets, not flowers.

He stood in the doorway in a clean white shirt, with his hands at his sides.

"May I come in?" he said.

"You may."

He sat at the small table by the balcony door.

She put a bowl of rice in front of him, and a plate of fish cooked to her mother's recipe.

He ate slowly and said it was good.

"You're allowed to say it's too salty," said Mira.

"It's too salty."

"Thank you."

He almost smiled. It was the smile of a man who has been told he may.

Halfway through the meal he put down his spoon.

"I want to tell you two things," he said. "Not to ask for anything. Only so you know."

"Go on."

"Rhea signed the trust. Her lawyer brought it to me yesterday."

Mira set her water glass down.

"She changed one line. At the bottom, in her own hand: for the school only. Not for me."

He rubbed his thumb along his scarred knuckle.

"She will plead to the forgery. Six months, the lawyer thinks. She says she wants it over."

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