‘If you want to know what happened next, you will have to come with me.’

‘Where?’

‘You will see. Don’t worry, I am not going to kidnap you,’ she said with a smirk. We packed our stuff and got off the train.

We followed the woman and got into a taxi. Nainital was an hour’s drive away. We both were curious and anxious. The car moved up the foothills as Haldwani sparkled like a Christmas tree below us.

As we drove up to a beautiful cottage nestled at the top of a small hill, the woman asked the driver to stop the car. We could see the serene Naini Lake below us.

‘Is this your home?’ Gitanjali asked.

‘Yes,’ said the woman, getting out to ring the doorbell. It wasn’t a usual door bell. It was a Swiss cowbell, just like the one at Radhika’s home in the story. There was something fishy going on. On a wooden plaque next to the door was an inscription: Love will find a way.

‘Open the door, honey!’ she said, sweetly.

A man opened the door. He was tall and handsome, with a thick beard. He smiled as the woman hugged him. ‘How was your journey, baby?’ he asked and looked at us questioningly.

‘We have guests, Madhav,’ the woman said and our jaws dropped.

Gitanjali stared at them as if someone had taken the wind out of her sails.

The woman turned to us and said, ‘My name is Radhika. Why don’t you come in?’

Stunned, Gitanjali and I stood at the door like mannequins.

‘We will not eat you! Come inside,’ Madhav said.

We entered their beautiful and warm home. We saw a painting in the living room, the one Radhika had described—two boys in school uniforms, one in a wheelchair and the other with his arm around him.

We also saw their photograph. My brain froze for a couple of seconds and Gitanjali was speechless. The room was full of beautiful paintings. There was a huge wedding photograph right above the fireplace. We were overjoyed to see it. They had finally been united in love.

‘I was surprised when you guys didn’t even ask my name,’ Radhika said.

Madhav was making coffee, oblivious to the fact that we had just heard his life story.

‘Has my wife been regaling you with her tales?’ Madhav asked as he placed a bowl of dry fruit on the table. ‘She is a visiting professor at Delhi University and often travels to Delhi for work,’ he said.

‘We know! We know! What about psychotherapy?’ Gitanjali asked.

‘I left it as I failed to choose between love and ethics,’ Radhika said and hugged Madhav. ‘And he is a poet. He is also passionate about organic farming nowadays.’ I felt joyful seeing them together.

‘Where is your mother?’ Gitanjali asked Madhav.

‘How do you know her?’

‘Radhika shared a bit of your life story,’ she said.

‘She lives in Delhi with my father,’ Madhav said. ‘We moved to Nainital a year after our wedding.’