Chapter 6: Sweetness and Storms

On Amit’s first day home from his post, I waited with a lantern. In his green official kurta, he looked like a banyan tree—dignified and upright. He took my hand and handed me a box of malai barfi from Sharma Sweets, South City.

He set the box down on the old tin trunk we used as a table, and the sweet, milky smell mingled with the aroma of tadka from the neighbour’s kitchen. I broke off a piece and closed my eyes in delight as it melted on my tongue—the taste of home, the taste of being cherished.

"Dekh, kya laya hoon tere liye!"

The Raj Mahal is in the north, yet the barfi was still soft. The skill of local halwais can’t match the palace’s, but I loved these best—because Amit brought them, just for me.

Amit liked to tell me about his day—what he did, what he saw in the palace. I enjoyed having someone to talk to, so even though I knew the palace better, I pretended to listen with interest.

He described the marble corridors, bustling kitchens, and mango trees in the courtyard. I nodded, smiling at his innocent wonder.

"The gulmohar trees are blooming. I remember you love gulmohar. If there’s a chance, I’ll show you! There’s a palace cat—today it acted cute with me! And…"

Amit painted pictures of palace life, but he saw my face pale.

He stopped, worry creasing his brow. "Ishaan, what happened?"

"You love gulmohar? I’ll plant them all over your palace, theek hai?"

He ruffled my hair, gentle and shy. "That palace cat is dirty—Ishu, mat chhoo usko!"

He grinned, trying to cheer me up. "Fine, if Ishu begs, I’ll help you hide that cat!"

His laughter was nervous, his eyes darting to mine. "Ishu, when I become something big, I will…"

…

The words came back to me, turning into that cold, knife-like command: "I’ll make the arrangements."

My hand trembled, barfi forgotten. Amit’s worried gaze made me force a smile. "Kuch nahi, bas thoda thak gayi hoon."

Amit watched, then suddenly pulled me into a hug. His arms were warm, steady—strong enough to hold me together.

"Ishaan, you’re not happy. Since we came here, you haven’t smiled. Give me time—I’ll ask His Majesty to let me resign. If you don’t like it here, we’ll leave, okay?"

His words gave me strength. I hugged him back, my fingers digging into his sleeve.

"Amit, Amit!"

For a moment, the weight on my chest lifted. Sometimes, a simple promise can carry you through the storm.