As the thought flashed in her mind, Rajjo knew what it all meant. The discomfort, the premonition, the dark shadows, Rajjo was gasping for breath. Someone was going to try to steal from her the thing that most important to her. She needed to stop it. She barked at the driver to turn around and tried calling his number. As expected, her battery was dead. Sweat trickled down her face, for it was clear she was the prey, they walked into a trap, but the worse part was the hunters had summoned enough forces above and beyond the human realm to cheat them. How were they to fight that?

His BMW reached the tarmac, his chopper was ready and waiting and polished to a gleam, ready to carry him into the skies to his beloved. Rajjo and him had mutually decided to part ways, but this time when they met, he knew they were never going to be apart. He’d agreed to her request to move on, he knew the distance would bring them together forever.

Harsh expected the sudden and urgent call by Rajjo – she wanted to meet. After so many ups and downs, deciding to put the relationship to rest, they were still craving to be together. Excitement to meet her outweighed the high stakes, his political career and his marriage many times over. This was pure throbbing emotion, he never felt so alive – she made him reckless and childlike – that’s what he craved for all his life.

The phone stuck to his ear, it was Upasana on the line, refusing to hang up. It seemed she was in one of her neurotic modes. Upasana had tried her level best to dissuade him from the trip, and now she was making sure he spoke to her till he climbed the chopper. Perhaps her woman’s instinct had alerted her that he was going to meet Rajjo. She thought he had an important meeting to attend, but as she waved him off he saw something cross her face. An anger crimson in colour mingled with the carefully applied blush in her cheek. The rage reigned in her mouth, meeting her coral lipstick as she told him, ‘Don’t go for this meeting. Please stay with me.’ But Harsh unable to stop himself, moonlight threads guiding his feet all the way to Rajjo. ‘Call me when you reach Pune,’ she said after a while, the black clouds reflected in her brow. She looked beautiful and dangerous to him. It was his own fear and guilt reflecting on her angelic face.

She touched her lips and pressed her fingers to his. One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy.’

He turned to see a single magpie hopping in the garden, the sunlight fading on her wing as late afternoon made way for the evening sky.