The marble floor felt cool and smooth under her feet—a relief after the hard, rough surfaces she’d been traveling. Looking around she spied the red sign marked Stairs and made her way towards it. She dashed up the staircase. Amazingly, in her heightened state of mind, she even remembered that Kiran lived on the second floor. She was panting again by the time she reached the landing. Holding on to the handrail, she bent over to inhale some much needed air and calm her elevated heartbeat.
There were only two flats there, one to the right and the other left, with a long, wrought-iron balcony running the length of the landing. It looked down on part of the concrete and landscaped area below and a portion of the street was visible. She turned to the flat on the right, anxious eyes scanning the nameplate on the glossy polished door. It was a name she didn’t recognize. Her heart slumped in disappointment. She ran to the second door and almost cried in relief. It read K. K. Rao. This had to be Kiran’s flat. Please God, please let it be Kiran’s flat.
She raised a hesitant hand to ring the doorbell. Although during the last several minutes it had made perfect sense, all of a sudden it felt strange to be standing here in the middle of the night. Earlier that evening, Kiran had said very little to Megha other than to compliment her on her cooking. Conservative Hindu families frowned on a young woman socializing freely with any men other than her husband. There had been lots of general chatter and noise around them, but there had been no interaction between Kiran and her. Now she was standing on his doorstep, desperately looking for help. How odd was that?
Overcome by doubts, she withdrew her hand from the doorbell. Although she’d had frequent contact with Kiran, she didn’t really know him well enough.
Under the bright overhead lights Megha looked down at herself and the slovenly picture she made. She knew she looked like a destitute woman. Her sari was crushed and muddied; her hands and feet were scratched and filthy from having traveled miles over dusty streets. Her injured foot was bleeding on the gleaming gray tiles.
With her sari she wiped her face to remove the dripping perspiration and any traces of dirt. Then she tucked the stray tendrils of hair behind her ears and smoothed down the rest. There was nothing she could do about her ruined sari. Despite her efforts to improve her appearance she knew everything about her said beggar.
Coming to Kiran’s flat was a ludicrous idea. How could she have dreamt up something this witless, even in her wildest dreams? Although Kiran was a compassionate man, his loyalties would surely lie with his own flesh and blood. Why would he want to help her? Just because he’d acted as her champion on a few difficult occasions it didn’t mean he was going to be disloyal to his family in times of crises. Aiding a truant wife was probably against the law, and Kiran didn’t appear to be the sort to resort to anything illegal.
After giving herself another minute to regain a little of her composure, Megha decided she would hide out somewhere for a day or two. Maybe Harini would take her in for a brief period. Harini was loyal to a fault.
Sometimes, when doing homework together as little girls, Megha had been mean to Harini, beyond mean, especially when Harini couldn’t figure out the answer to a problem. Megha had deliberately given her the wrong answer and watched her getting humiliated in Mother Doreen’s arithmetic class. Then the guilt would set in after Mother Doreen yelled at Harini or hit her over the knuckles with the sharp edge of the ruler. Megha would resort to apologetic hugs and regretful tears, promise Harini and herself she’d never do it again. But she’d do it again…and again. After all that, Harini had forgiven her. How could one not love a person like that dearly? It wasn’t until the girls had become teenagers that Megha had recognized her own malicious ways and stopped herself from mistreating such a wonderful friend. After that their friendship had become stronger.
So, how could Megha put her best friend through such deceit now, especially when the friend happened to be pregnant? Besides, Harini and her husband lived with the husband’s family. What would Harini’s in-laws say? She couldn’t throw Harini’s life in turmoil. So that option was out.
There was the women’s shelter in town, but someone had told Megha it was a smelly, grubby building filled with prostitutes and abused women battered beyond recognition. Even if she did go to that hellhole, the police were certain to look for her there.
She needed a plan right away. But no matter how many times and how many ways she examined the different options, she came back to a single solution: ask Kiran for a loan and then get out of town as quickly as she could. Kiran was her only hope. But would he be willing to help her? Well, she’d never know if she didn’t try.
With her mind finally made up, Megha rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Of course, Kiran had to be in bed at this hour. She repeatedly pressed the bell with no more luck than the first attempt. She wondered what was keeping him from answering the door.
Naturally Kiran would be astonished to see her. He might even ask her politely to go home to Suresh. If she refused, he’d probably threaten to turn her over to the police. Quickly she made a mental note of what she would say and how she would say it convincingly. She had to make him see reason. Being a practical and intelligent man, he’d be likely to listen to logic.
Just then a dark car drove up the street. She couldn’t recognize the exact color or the make from where she stood beside the metal railing of the landing, but she anxiously watched it come through the gates and enter the garage below. It disappeared from sight as it moved further inside and then came to a stop. The engine went silent.
A few seconds later she heard footsteps coming up the staircase—firm, heavy, masculine steps. Gripped by panic, she huddled close to the door. Her eyes darted about, making a quick survey of the landing for a place to hide. Unfortunately, there was none. This building probably had more lights than Rashtrapati Bhavan, the President of India’s official residence.
The person climbing the stairs would be sure to mistake her for a thief trying to break into Kiran’s flat. Total disaster! The police, neighbors, relatives—they would all converge upon her. And, the deadliest of horrors: Amma!
Taking a deep breath, Megha braced herself to make a run for it. Her only hope for escape would be to dart quickly past the unsuspecting stranger, fly down the stairs at lightening speed and disappear into the night before he knew what hit him. She’d have to count on the element of surprise to help her along. With any luck the person would be too stunned to react instantly. Clenching her fists, she readied herself for escape.
A split second later, instead of bewildering the man as she’d planned, it was she who became immobilized.
Kiran came into view as he reached the landing. Megha held her breath in. Their eyes collided and held for a stunned second. Her body tensed instinctively. Like a wild animal caught in the headlights, she stood poised to take flight in an instant. She had come all the way here to talk to Kiran, and yet, now that he stood before her, she’d lost her nerve. All she wanted to do was run.
The expression on Kiran’s face was wide-eyed astonishment. “Megha! What are you doing here?”
At a complete loss for words, Megha merely continued to stare at him, her heartbeat slamming inside her chest.
Kiran seemed to recover quickly. He made the first move. Stepping forward, he held his hand out to her. “Thank God you’re okay!”
Still dazed, but astounded at Kiran’s unexpected greeting, Megha took a step backwards, her eyes wary and unblinking. Something was odd about this scenario. Had he said thank God? He was supposed to be furious with her, wasn’t he? He should have turned her away or threatened to call the police. Instead he looked relieved and almost glad to see her on his doorstep. Was her traumatized mind playing tricks on her? She eyed him suspiciously, and took another step back.
But his expression still looked relieved and his hand remained extended. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. Megha couldn’t trust her own eyes or ears. Was Kiran playing a prank on her, only to trap her later? A flutter of fear went through her.
He stepped closer and took her clammy hands in his. “Megha, I went looking for you at your house, but Amma told me you were