Shadows of Kasauli Chapter 3

The drive from the library to the upper reaches of Kasauli, where the "old money" lived, usually took barely thirty minutes. Tonight, it felt like a march to the gallows.

Vanya checked her rearview mirror; her kohl was slightly smudged from the humidity or perhaps from the shock of seeing Arjun.

She pulled into the driveway of a modern, glass-fronted villa that looked entirely out of place against the rugged mountain landscape. It was Sameer’s pride and joy-cold, expensive, and transparent.
As she entered, the smell of expensive catering-saffron and roasted meat-hit her. The house was already filled with the low hum of polite laughter and the clinking of crystal.

"You're late."

Sameer was standing by the spiral staircase, checking his gold watch. He looked immaculate in a tailored Nehru jacket. To the world, he was the picture of success. To Vanya, he was a wall of ice.

"The library doors had a snag," Vanya lied, her voice low. "I’m sorry, Sameer. I'll change quickly."

Sameer walked over, his eyes scanning her face precision that made her skin crawl. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a correction.

"The Oberois are investors, Vanya. Not your book-club friends. You represent me. When you are late, it makes me look disorganized."

 He gripped her chin, just a fraction too hard. "The emerald silk. Ten minutes. Don't make me come up there."

Upstairs, Vanya stripped off her clothes. She put on the emerald saree. It was heavy, the silk biting into her waist. She draped the pallu and pinned it, her fingers shaking. As she applied a fresh coat of lipstick, she thought of Arjun’s eyes, the way they had looked at her like she was a person, not a representative of his "brand."

The dinner was an exercise in agony. She sat at the head of the long table, smiling when required, nodding at stories of real estate margins and Delhi politics.

"And how is the library, Vanya ji?" Mrs. Oberoi asked, her voice dripping with condescension. "Still playing with your dusty old papers?"

Before Vanya could answer, Sameer chuckled, swirling his wine. "It keeps her occupied. It's a quaint little hobby, isn't it? Though I keep telling her, she should focus more on the Charity League."

Vanya felt a hot flash of anger. A hobby. She had a Master’s degree in Archival Sciences. She was the reason the town’s history hadn't rotted away.

"It's more than a hobby, Mrs. Oberoi," Vanya said, her voice steadier than she expected. "Today, for instance, we began a trace on the Aashraya estate. It’s one of the oldest land holdings in the district."

The table went quiet for a split second. Sameer’s glass stopped moving. He looked at Vanya, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"The Malhotra bungalow?" Sameer asked, his tone deceptively casual. "I thought the grandson was never coming back to claim that ruin."

"He came back today," Vanya said, looking Sameer directly in the eye. For the first time in years, she felt a small, rebellious thrill. "Arjun Malhotra is in Kasauli. And he’s not planning on leaving until he finds what he’s looking for."

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of Sameer’s forced smiles and sharp, warning glances. When the guests finally left, the silence in the house was deafening.

Sameer walked to the bar and poured another drink. "You seemed very... informed about Mr. Malhotra’s plans, Vanya."

"He came to the library, Sameer. It's my job."

Sameer turned around, his face dark. "Stay away from that man, and stay away from that house. The Malhotras are a black mark on this town. I'm looking into that land for a new resort project. I don't want you 'helping' him with his archives. And don't forget you are married now. The town knows me. I have a reputation. So stay away from the lover boy. Not that the town is unaware about your history."

Vanya turned her back on him, walking toward the balcony. The fog had cleared slightly, and far off in the distance, she could see a single, flickering light in the window of the old, dark bungalow on the cliff.
Arjun was there. He was the storm, and she was the bird trapped in the cage, finally realizing the door was unlocked.