I climb the stairs to the office and realize I cannot wait any longer—I’m going to tell Sid about the baby this evening no matter what happens. I can’t be patient anymore and I don’t want to delay the ultrasound any longer.

I reach the Bin and stop to collect my breath before I enter the office. The Bin door opens and Neelima walks out with the twins in tow; all of them seem rather excited.

I am surprised to see all of them together after the party incident—but I suppose there are things I might never understand. Neelima sees me standing there.

‘My goodness, Polly, you look radiant today,’ she says scanning my face appreciatively.

I don’t want to be judgemental, but after the party at her place, I’m just not comfortable in their presence. However, I appreciate the compliment.

‘Thank you,’ I smile at her. ‘That’s nice to hear first thing at work!’

‘Aww, I bet you hear nice things all the time from that husband of yours. You’d hear nicer things at work as well—but unfortunately we’ve got Comma as our boss,’ she says rolling her eyes.

The twins laugh and hold hands. I avoid looking at them—the terrace incident is still too graphically fresh in my mind.

‘Hey, I didn’t get much of a chance to speak to you at the party. I would have told you in person but I haven’t been to work the last two days—that article was nicely done,’ Neelima says.

‘Thanks, I’m glad you liked it,’ I say.

‘Oh, I am not the only one who liked it. Some rather interesting people seem to like it too. But of course you know that,’ Neelima winks at me conspiratorially.

‘Er, sorry but I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I tell her truthfully.

‘C’mon Pol, don’t be modest, we can all see you’re making friends in interesting places. Madam Virgin Bride seems to be in love with you. I’m sure you’ve read the post she wrote yesterday? Anyway, speaking of interesting places—Tabloid is going to become a hell of an interesting place pretty soon,’ Neelima says, lowering her voice.

The twins grin evilly. But then they always grin evilly. I have no idea what they are talking about; neither about the blogger nor about Tabloid. Neelima reads my expression correctly.

‘My sources tell me that Tabloid is in trouble, BIG trouble,’ Neelima says and winks again. Everyone knows her ‘sources’ is Virat—he finds out everything because he is head of a department.

Neelima looks at me expectantly, probably wanting me to ask about the trouble. I don’t. She ignores my lack of encouragement and tells me anyway.