Stepping into Gouri’s flat, I felt like it was my first minor victory in my conquest to win her heart. It was like how the Pope steps out of a plane and kisses the ground. It was a wonderful flat. It smelled of room freshener and clean bedsheets and a little bit like Dettol. She lived in a nice one BHK with a huge balcony that overlooked the main road outside. I didn’t look or go inside her bedroom; it was too soon for that. In the balcony she had one of those metal clothes-drying frames. I didn’t linger there too much. But she did have a swimsuit out to dry. Bright red. Sexy as hell. I quickly took a photo on my mobile phone.

I sat in the living room going through some old newspapers while she changed and washed up. Gouri has a lot of shoes. Including one fairly high-heeled in shiny leather. I was happy to note that despite her otherwise staid and conservative look Gouri Kalbag had a nice sexy side to her too.

She told me to help myself from her fridge so I had a little orange juice.

When she reappeared she was wearing a pair of jeans and a nice pink T-shirt. But her eyes were still dark from crying. She took a bottle from the fridge and sat on the floor in front of me. For a few minutes neither of us said anything. Then I asked her what was going on. Did she want to talk about anything?

Gouri first shook her head to say no. And then she began to speak.

Apparently she had broken up with that boy I had seen her with a few months ago at Dadar. The bastard, some Parag something, had been promoted recently. According to her company policy a superior couldn’t be in a relationship with a subordinate on the same project or in the same department. She had asked him to move her out so that they could keep seeing each other. But he had suggested that it would be better that they ended the relationship entirely.

Apparently he felt that in his new position going out with a subordinate would inevitably lead to tensions. He’d told her earlier today, over lunch, that things were officially over. Gouri had worked the rest of the day out of a café near the office so that no one would see her crying.

I nodded along solemnly to her story, looking suitably upset though inside I wanted to jump up and down with sheer ecstasy. It was as if this was all preordained. Gouri coming to Mumbai, finding a banker boy, then breaking up with him, thereby letting me swoop in with my more balanced priorities as a consultant to impress her and make her mine. But I didn’t let any of this show through at all. Instead I went and sat next to her on the floor, put my arms around her and said nothing.