‘I will,’ said Abhimanyu to nobody. He turned around and sat in the car, and reached out to hold Meera’s hand. He felt his heart constrict with happiness when she didn’t pull it away.

*

For the next couple of weeks, Abhimanyu and Meera travelled through northeast America, away from the crowd, reunited in pure bliss. They left New York and went to an idyllic farmhouse in New Jersey. Neither of them really spoke much about the past – what was done was done. They relished the present, occupying their minds with mundane things like where to eat lunch on any given day, or whether to choose horse riding over a walk by the beach in South Jersey. Once they took a long drive upstate to the Niagara Falls. Another week was spent strolling the Appalachian Trail. Whether they knew it or not, Abhimanyu and Meera were able to be lovers, like regular people, for the first time since they first confessed their love to each other, all those years ago.

They were tucked away in a corner of a small family-run Italian restaurant on the roadside, located at the edge of Del Water Gap, closer to Philadelphia. It was the kind of restaurant where you couldn’t be sure as to whether or not it was open for business until you’d spot an old woman hunkered behind the counter. The chef, who was the husband of the lady behind the counter, was also the server. One could tell just from the way he checked with her whether they had olives in stock. ‘Of course,’ the counter lady replied incredulously, ‘they came in just this morning.’ He went off to the kitchen, but came back to the table to confirm which cheese they preferred. When the food was served, though, any trepidations Abhimanyu and Meera might have had about the sloppy chef melted away. Perhaps it was that homely feeling of being served by a family, and the food itself, which felt closer to India than to Italy, that uplifted their spirits, and they began talking freely for the first time in years. Such are the wonders of a good meal, especially if it beats low expectations.

‘Meera, I want you to know that I am truly sorry for everything,’ Abhimanyu said in their first real dialogue, an attempt really to talk. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your time.’

‘Tell me, have you heard any of my songs?’

He told her about the records he had Penaru buy, and spoke at length about her singing – something she had yearned for so long. As expected, he came up with insights like only he could.

‘You know this more than I do Meera – you can be better,’ Abhimanyu began before going on to talk about the technical elements of her voice rather than the art of singing.

‘From the very first verse, I knew you were stressed.’