Changing Shades 9

Anjali looked up, her expression mirroring her shock.

“Mansi! What happened?”

“I've had it,” said Mansi, stuffing her drawings and plans into her briefcase with trembling hands. “I can't work here any more. He wanted to break me, well, he finally has. I'm going to my hostel. If he asks for me, tell him he'll have my resignation in the morning.”

“Mansi, you can't do that! What will you do? The bills…”

“Damn the bills!” said Mansi explosively. “As you said, they're not my concern anyway. I'll starve if I have to, but I cannot work with him anymore. Let him find another slave to work all the god-awful hours he expects and put up with the abuse also. I refuse to keep apologizing for what happened four years ago. I've paid for it enough, I don't have to pay any more, and not to him!”

She laid her briefcase on the table, her hands still shaking. In her mind, she heard her voice … ‘Manish knew everything,’ … she saw again the look on her husband’s face as he faced her on their wedding night with his knowledge of her love … and his contorted, twisted sense of triumph … when her personal journey into hell had started.

Anjali was aghast. She had never seen Mansi in this state. She came up to the other girl and put her arms around her.
“Mansi, what happened? What did he say? Mansi, calm down, for god's sake. You can't go home like this!”

“I'm going,” Mansi said, more calmly. She looked at Anjali in something akin to despair, her voice husky with unshed tears as she spoke.

“You see, Angel, the problem is that he doesn't know I would have given my right arm to be free to love him all those years ago. And I still would. But I’m not free – my life’s not my own – and it never has been. Anyway, forget it. He is not going to forgive me, and I can't make him understand. He doesn't want to understand. So the best thing is that I don't work here anymore. He's won. He wanted to break me, to drive me out of here – well, he has. Tell him I'll send the plans with the revisions in the morning, with my resignation.”

She picked up her bag, and made to move to the door. Anjali watched her helplessly.

Just then, the phone rang, startling them both.

“Who could it be, at this time of evening?” muttered Anjali, as she rushed to get it.

“Maybe the boss, saying he's had a heart attack?” asked Mansi half-jokingly, then she continued … “oh, can’t be – he doesn’t have a heart.” They both smiled wanly. Anjali picked up the phone.

“Suri Constructions, good evening. Can I help you?” she said, schooling her face into a solemn expression, then her face changed. “Just a moment , please.”

She held out the phone to Mansi, her face serious.

“It's for you. Some guy. Says he's calling from Kathmandu.”

Mansi looked at her, her own face changing, and the color draining from it. She came hesitantly forward, and her hand shook just a little as she took the phone.

“Hello?”

She listened for a while. “Yes, I am Mansi Dewan, that's right. Yes, I am an architect. What?”

Her face still pale, Mansi listened to the caller for another minute, then her voice very low, she answered again.

“Yes, that is correct. I am. Who are you?”

She listened again, and Anjali watched, getting more and more concerned. Mansi looked as though she was talking to a ghost. Her voice almost threadlike, she spoke again.

“I'll be there as soon as I can. Can you give me a contact number or an address? I'll call you as soon as I reach, or as soon as I get organized.”

She took a pen and wrote something on the pad next to her. Then she spoke again.

“Right, I'll get my ticket done and try to be there tomorrow morning at the latest. I will call you when I get there. Thank you.”

She made to put down the phone, then quickly spoke again.

“Just a minute. What is your name, and does he know you are calling me?”

She listened again, then put the phone down with a brief word. She turned to Anjali.

“Anjali, you'll have to cover my back from Aditya. Maybe for a day or two, I don't know how long. Can you do it?”

“Of course,” said Anjali, instantly. “You don't have to ask.”

Mansi nodded, and picked up the phone again, calling their travel agency. She quickly booked a single ticket to Kathmandu, and putting down the phone, looked at her watch.

“I don't have much time,” she muttered. “I'd better leave right away.”

Anjali looked at her.

“What's this all about?” she asked directly. “Or would you rather not say anything?”

Mansi smiled, but there was strain in her smile. She said one word.

“Manish.”

“He's there? In Kathmandu?”

Mansi nodded. “Seems to be. How they traced me, I don't know. I'll find out soon enough. Anjali, if Aditya comes comes, please make some excuse for me. I may need a couple of days, there seems to be some major problem.”

“Are you going to tell your in-laws?” Anjali asked. Mansi shook her head.

‘No, I don't know if this is a wild goose chase. I'll go to the nursing home, break my fast, and then go home. The flight is early morning. I don't want to raise their hopes, if there is a mistake. Let me find out first. I'll come back and tell them.’

“And Aditya?” Anjali asked quietly. Mansi looked at her helplessly, then she did something she had never done before. She came into Anjali's arms, rested her head on the other girl's shoulder, closed her eyes and held her tight.

“I need him,” she whispered, so softly, that Anjali barely heard her. “Oh, God, how I need my Adi …”

Neither of them noticed Aditya standing just outside the room, in the corridor, watching them, nor did they notice as he stepped quietly and noiselessly back.

Anjali hugged her back, her throat aching with unshed tears.

“Go,” she said, her voice suspiciously husky. “I'll handle Aditya.”

Mansi nodded and stepped back.

“What will you tell him?” she asked, as she got her things together rapidly. Anjali looked at her a little wickedly, wanting to lighten her mood.

‘I'll tell him you're pregnant and having morning sickness,’ she said happily, and Mansi looked at her for a horrified moment, and a smile grew on her face.

“You'll do it, too, if I know you,” she grinned, “but please, I think I need to live a little longer. Could you possibly think of another excuse that won't endanger my life?”

Anjali laughed. “I'll try,” she promised. “Now, off with you.”

Mansi nodded and disappeared. Anjali sat down with a sigh, frowning, as she tried to think of what to say to Aditya.

She needn't have bothered. He walked in a couple of minutes later, whistling, as though without a care in the world, greeted her and went straight into his office. After a little while he came out, and came to Mansi's desk, casually picked up her pad, on which she had written the Kathmandu address, and tore off the paper, while Anjali watched, horrified, completely unable to say a word.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, casually. “What's happening around here?”

“N…nothing much,” she managed to say, watching as he glanced at the piece of paper, before crumpling it in his hand, then she breathed more easily, as he wrote something on the fresh page of the pad.

“Can you contact these people for me?” he said, handing her the paper. “I have an appointment with them tomorrow afternoon. Reschedule it for next week, will you?”

She nodded, thankfully, and waited for him to ask about Mansi. But he didn't, and she didn't notice, as she looked at the paper he had handed her, that he had put the crumpled one in his pocket. He went back into his office, and she was left wondering at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

She wasn't left to wonder long. In about half an hour, he came out of his office, closing the door. Anjali looked at him in surprise.

“You're off, Aditya?”

“Yes, I am. Cancel all my other appointments, as well, will you, Anjali? For the week.”

“Week?” she stuttered, in complete shock. “Wh…wh…where are you going?”

He leaned over her desk casually.

“Kathmandu, of course. Where else?”

Leaving her completely and absolutely stupefied, and for once, totally bereft of words, he disappeared.

Changing Shades 8

Things could not have gone on the same way for much longer, and they didn't.

But how matters would come to a head, Mansi could not have even dreamed.

Aditya came into office a few weeks later in a temper. He was early, and neither Mansi nor Anjali was in yet. He barked at Suresh, and sent him scurrying off to call the girls. When Anjali came in, he barked at her too. She answered back politely but fearlessly, and he grouched into his room.

“Send Mansi in when she comes,” he shot at her. “And you can tell her if she's late again, she can look for another job. I don't tolerate nonsense in my office.”

“She's not late, you are early,” Anjali replied, calmly. “She left at past 2 last night. The plans you need are on your desk. She left them there.”
“How do you know?” he barked, and Anjali looked at him coolly. “She called me last night to tell me,” she said, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. “She was afraid she might be late today, because she left so late, so she wanted me to wake her up in the morning.”

Aditya stared at her.

“She's got a whole army of servants to wake her up, and she wants you to call her?”

Anjali didn't reply. She got busy with her computer, and didn't look at him.

“I'll have this lot of letters and the proposal finished by the morning,” she said, briskly. “Is there anything else you need done today?”

“I'll call you when there is,” he said. “Send Mansi in when she comes.”

Anjali didn't look up till he had closed his door, then she stopped her work and gave a sigh of relief.

“Boy oh boy, you nearly blew that one, woman,” she admonished herself, and looked up with a smile, as Mansi opened the door cautiously and came in.

“Storm warning,” she said, briefly. Mansi sighed.

“I really can't take it today,” she muttered, collapsing into her chair. “I'm exhausted, and on top of that, I just got 2 hours of sleep last night. Mummy called in the morning at 5! She wanted to remind me to eat something. It's karva chauth.”

Anjali stared at her disbelievingly.
“Do you still keep it?”

“I didn't the last two years,” confessed Mansi. “It's all over, except in name, so I didn't. I don't think of him as my husband any more, anyway.”

“Then why…” began Anjali, and Mansi looked at her with a twisted smile.

“You'll tell me I'm a fool, again, and I need my head examined. Maybe I do, at that.”

Anjali whistled. “You are,” she agreed. Then she hugged the other girl. “But he’s a bigger fool! He's an idiot if he doesn't appreciate your worth. Mansi, tell him, please. Tell him about Manish.”

Mansi shook her head stubbornly and Anjali sighed defeatedly.

“I thought I told you to send Mansi in as soon as she came,” barked a voice, and both the girls jumped. Aditya was standing at the door of his office, looking decidedly grim. Mansi got up with a sigh. She gave Anjali a look of 'here we go again', and walked towards Aditya's office.

“The plans are already on your table,” she said. “I did finish them last night.”

“I think that either I'm retarded or you are,” he retorted. “I cannot understand what you have done at all. Could you be so kind as to explain what you have drawn? Where are the revisions I asked for?”

That was the beginning. Mansi was exhausted, and she answered back far more sharply than she ever had before. They had a roaring fight, and at the end of it, Aditya stomped out of his office.

“I have a meeting with this client, and I'll be back only after lunch. I want the plans done by then, with all the revisions,” he barked at her.

“You're not asking for revisions, you're asking me to do the whole lot again,” she answered back. “I can't possibly have them done by the afternoon.”

“You'd better, or you're out of this office,” he retorted, and walked out.

Mansi stared after him, almost at the end of her tether. Then she got determinedly back to work.

“He is not going to get me down, nor is he going to drive me out of this office,” she vowed to herself, as she picked up her pencils again.

She was still working when Anjali popped into the room at 6 o'clock.
“It's evening, aren't you going?” she asked Mansi. “You have to go to the nursing home today, don't you?”

“Can't leave before he comes and checks these,” said Mansi briefly, looking up. Anjali gave an exclamation.
“You're done in, Mansi. Go home and get some rest. You haven't eaten anything the whole day. You'll drop dead, the way you're going.”

“I should be so lucky,” replied Mansi, and looked over Anjali's shoulder. “The tyrant is back, Anjali. You'd better get back to your desk before he accuses us of wasting our time gossiping.”

She was at breaking point, and didn't seem to care that Aditya heard every word she said, indeed her words seemed to be aimed at him. Anjali scuttled back to her desk, and Aditya passed her to come into his room and slam the door. He looked at Mansi and it was clear her words had found their mark. If she had intended to provoke him, she had succeeded.

He came up to her and grasped her by the shoulders.

“Don't ever…” he hissed at her in a low, menacing tone “…ever talk to my staff like that.”

“Like what?” asked Mansi innocently. “Oh, you mean, don't call you a tyrant? All right, I won't. She knows it, anyway.”

She was hurting from the pressure he was applying to her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh, but she didn't care. Something had finally snapped in her, a combination of the last few months' tiredness, the fights, the tension, and her own exhaustion and hunger, and she felt almost lightheaded as she faced him.

“You are trying to undermine my authority with my staff,” he said furiously. “And, for the record, you are part of the staff here, so…”

“So what?” she retorted. “Are you threatening to fire me? All right, go ahead and do it. Fire me.”

She looked at him and laughed bitterly.

“No, you won't fire me, will you, Aditya? You will never fire me. It gives you too much pleasure to see me here, under your authority, obeying your orders, being completely at your mercy. Face it, Adi, you're not finding fault with my work, are you? For the last four months, you've been punishing me for what I did four years ago, and my work has nothing to do with it. And you want to continue punishing me, so…”

“You flatter yourself,” he broke in furiously. “You and I were finished four years ago, before we even started. There is nothing between us now, so don't manufacture anything, or give yourself imaginary reasons for your inadequacy.”

“My inadequacy!” she cried. “How is it that you are the only person who thinks I'm inadequate? Mr. Suri didn't think so, our clients didn't think so, only the great Aditya Khanna, who is such a brilliant architect, finds fault with my work. No, Aditya, that won't wash. Just because Manish…”

“Don't take his name!” snapped Aditya. “I don't want to hear his name. He has nothing to do with this. Keep him at home, don't bring him into my office.”

“He has everything to do with this,” retorted back Mansi. “He is the cause of all this tension between us, and he doesn't even know it.”

“I said, don't talk about him,” ground out Aditya. Mansi looked at him squarely.

“Why shouldn't I talk about him. He is my husband, he has a right to know how I'm being treated at work, and by somebody who claims to be his friend.”

“Our friendship ended when he got married,” said Aditya savagely. He came to her and grasped her by her upper arms in a grip that hurt, his eyes burning as he looked at her. “Come on, Mansi, tell me that he didn't know you loved me and I loved you. Tell me that he didn't know that there were never only the two of you in your bed. Tell me he didn't know that when you kissed him, it was my face you saw…”

“He knew everything! That was why …!” shouted Mansi. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at him. He looked back at her, stunned. His hands dropped like stone.

“He knew … everything,” she whispered, her tone anguished. She looked away from him and out of the window, and the anger, the fight went out of both of them suddenly. She looked around at him, and he stared back at her. The room seemed warmer suddenly, sparks flying between them, the tension in the air so thick that it was almost difficult to breathe. Then suddenly, she turned and picked up her plans. Without a word, she walked out of the room.

Changing Shades 7

She was still sitting there when Aditya came. He approached so quietly that she didn't hear him.

He watched her from a distance for a while, seeing the eyes gazing blindly into the distance, her expression disturbed, her body held in rigid lines showing her tension.

“Anjali said I might find you here,” he said, and she jumped, her face draining of color as she turned around to face him. His expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you all right?”

“You startled me,” she managed. “What are you doing here?”

“Inspecting the site, the same as you are,” he replied easily. “I am supposed to take over, you know. I should start my new job as soon as possible, don't you think?"

Belatedly she remembered that he was her boss now. “I'm sorry,” she said, uncomfortably. “I shouldn't have said that the way I did. You're right. It's your project now.”

“No, it isn't,” he said, and sat down beside her. “It's still yours. Mr. Suri made that very clear. Quite his little blue eyed girl, aren't you?”

She kept quiet, sensing that something was coming. She knew him too well not to recognize the hard note in his voice, underlying the casual words he had spoken.

She didn't have too long to wait. “Tell me, Mansi,” he asked, still in that casual tone. “How do you manage it?”

“Manage what?”

“You know. Manage to get all these old men wound so firmly around your little finger that they will do anything for you. Uncle gave you his son and his business, Mr. Suri is practically dying to hand over his business to you. He made it very clear when I took over, that you and your job were not to be touched, and the deal was by no means final. The firm is not mine yet, and it may never be. You have done rather well for yourself, haven't you? And to think I used to feel sorry for you! You must have laughed at me! You were perfectly able to manage things for yourself. Who needs love? You want all the good things in life, and so what if it's only old men who can give them to you. Old men don't live forever, and till they do, well, grin and bear it. Isn't that right?”

She looked at him quietly, not answering his anger, feeling his hurt. After so many years, he still carried the bitterness of their last meeting with him. She had known he would find it very difficult to forgive, but that he would be so bitter, she had not thought.

“I know why you think so badly of me, Aditya,” she managed quietly, looking away from the fire in his eyes. “But can't you at least try to understand why I did what I did? You know it wasn't like that. Do you honestly think I'm so materialistic? I don't think so, Aditya. You, of all people, know me better than that.”

“I thought I knew you,” he returned. “But obviously, I was wrong. I didn't know you at all. The girl I fell in love with, or thought I fell in love with, was not like you. She would never have done what you did. She would have had the courage to stop, not go through something her heart did not want.”

“I could not!” she cried, her heart aching for his understanding. “Can't you understand that I just could not do that? I could never have cried off at that time, even if I had wanted to. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear from me that I loved you, and still married Manish? All right, I'll say it. I loved you. I married him. What does that make me? A coward? A fool? Do you think you're the only one who suffered?”

“What did you suffer?” he asked savagely. “You got a beautiful home, a rich husband, a family, security, lots of money, and doting in-laws, who would give you the world, and make sure that their son did the same. What did you suffer? No, Mansi. You didn’t love me. You were only out for what you could get. And you still are. It must have been a shock to find out that Mr. Suri was not going to hand over the company to you, lock, stock and barrel, but got me in here instead. Why did you want this company too? Are your tastes so expensive that all the money you already have, isn't enough? You want more and more?”

“What are you saying, Aditya?” she cried. “Listen to me. I have suffered, Aditya. How I suffered, you can't even begin to imagine. Don't you really want to know why I'm working here? What happened…?”

“No,” he said, cutting her off abruptly. “I don't want to know. I don't want to know anything. Don't say anything, Mansi. It's no use. What's done is done. It's over and done with. I've moved on in my life, and…" he looked at her in cold appraisal, taking in the expensive suit she was wearing, and the large earrings glinting in her ears (one about five years old, and the other artificial, if only he had known that), "…you obviously have, too. I suppose you and Manish know what you're doing for you to be working here, but it is no concern of mine.”

He stood up, and moved away. Than he looked back at her, and his eyes were cold, bleak.

“Understand one thing, Mansi. From now on, you and I are colleagues. Just that. No more. The college days are over, and we have, all of us, moved on. I don't want to know anything about your and Manish's personal life, and I don't intend to let you into mine. There's been too much between us for us even to be friends, and I will not make that pretense. We work together in the office, and that is all. Do you understand?”

“Can't I at least try to tell you, to make you understand…?” she began, but he cut her off brusquely.

“I told you, Mansi, no. There is nothing personal between us. I don't want to know. I'm not interested any more. I was in love with you once upon a time. You killed that love. Now there is nothing, absolutely nothing between us, and there can never be, again. Not even friendship. Least of all, friendship. We work together, that's all. And yes, there’s no need to tell Manish that you work for me now. In one stroke, you killed that friendship as well, and now there’s no going back. Now let's go and check the drainage that you were worried about.”

He turned and walked off rapidly down the hill, leaving her standing like a stone, staring after him. And as cold as stone was the coldness in her heart, as she watched the familiar figure stride off towards the workmen on the site.

Don't do this to me, she whispered, but it was to herself. Haven't I been punished enough? If only, she thought bleakly, if only I had at that time had the courage, the conviction in my love, to tell my uncle, Manish, his parents, that I could not go through with the wedding. If only I had had the courage to tell Aditya that yes, I do love you, I love you more than life itself, and always will. But I didn't. I thought that my duty was stronger then my love, and I've condemned myself for a lifetime. He doesn't even want to know anything, he doesn't want to talk to me, he doesn't want to know me.

Slowly she moved, her legs feeling like lead, as she walked down the hill to join him. He was talking to the contractor, his brow furrowed, and he turned his head as she came up.

“Mansi, this man says that the incline seems to be different from what is indicated in the plan. That means we may have to alter the site of the drain system. Do you have the plans with you?”

She looked at him blindly, barely hearing what he was saying. He looked at her impatiently. The confrontation of the last few minutes seemed to have been wiped out of his mind.

“Mansi, the plans, please?”

She registered what he was saying at last.

“The plans?”

“The plans for this site. The drain system. Can you understand or do I have to spell it out for you?”

“They…they're in the car,” she managed weakly, and he continued to look at her with the same impatience.

“Then can you get them, please? I need to take a look at them. How is it that this problem didn't come up before? Didn't you check the incline?”

“I'll get the plans and check,” she said, stammering, and half walked, half ran to her car to fetch them.

He looked at the papers, frowning.

“I'll have a look at these in the office,” he told the contractor. “Get back to you tomorrow. In the meantime, don't start the work on the pipes yet.”

The man nodded respectfully, and moved away to his workmen. Aditya looked at Mansi, and she winced from the ice in his eyes.

“Get back to the office,” he said. “We need to go over these. If there is a mistake, it may need a major revision, and some cost increase. You realize that, don't you?”

She nodded. She couldn't trust her voice.

“Just remember,” he continued in the same hard voice. “I do not and will not tolerate slipshod work in my office. Please be more careful in the future. Now get moving. I have my own car.”

He turned and walked off to his car, and she followed to her vehicle. She didn't have a car of her own, using the office car for all her work on site. Mr Suri had never had a problem with that. She began to think, with a sinking feeling, that Aditya just might.

There was a problem with the incline, which entailed a change in the plans. It was not major, however, and so Mansi was completely unprepared for the tongue-lashing which Aditya gave her for the mistake.

“You were a good architect in the old days,” he said, with ice in his voice. “I suppose with so many years of doing what you pleased, you've let your work slip. But this is not your company any more, and I am not here to provide you with pocket money at the expense of my clients. If you want to continue here, there are certain standards, which you will have to maintain. If you don't, you can look for another job, or just sit at home and let your husband earn for you. Might be better.”

“You don't have to make sexist remarks,” she flashed. “If you're not happy with my work, tell me that. You don't have to bring my husband into it. As for being a good architect, remember who used to fight with you for the top position in college.”

“So can I see some of that work, please?” he answered, caustically. “And we're not in college now. We're working to build real buildings for real people, and we cannot make mistakes now. Now, mistakes cost money, either the firm's or the client's. Remember that in future.”

That first clash seemed to set the tone for the weeks and months ahead. Aditya seemed to take delight in finding fault with her – only with her work. He did not make any personal remarks again. But he criticized her constantly, threw barbed remarks all the time and was always ready to make changes to her plans and schedules. Mansi's office, which had become a haven for her, where she could forget herself in her work, now became a living hell. Earlier, she used to be impatient to get to work, out of her little cubbyhole of a room, and would spend far longer in the office than she needed, to postpone her return home. Now she got to work in time – just. But once she was there, Aditya did not let up for a minute, and she could not leave early, either. He made sure of that. She worked late, trying to keep up with the load he piled on her, often reaching back to her hostel after midnight, and going without food, as the canteen was closed. But she could not tell any of this to Aditya, or to anyone.

Anjali noticed the shadows under her eyes, the pale complexion, and grew concerned. She left by 6 every evening, so she didn't know how late Mansi was working, or how little she was eating. But she saw the other girl grow paler and more tired looking, and tried to remonstrate with her.

“What are you doing to yourself?” she asked her furiously. “Do you want to kill yourself or something? Mansi, what's the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Mansi tried to brush her off with a smile, but Anjali wasn't having any of it.

“Don't you tell me 'nothing',” she said. “I can see with my own eyes. What is happening between you and him?”

‘Nothing is happening between me and him,” said Mansi, and tried to smile. “It's just that the work pressure seems to be more. Those last couple of projects don't seem to be fitting into place.”

“You mean he's turning down all the plans you show him,” guessed Anjali, shrewdly. She was able to hear parts of the conversations from Aditya's room, from her desk just outside. Mansi looked at her in despair.

“Anjali…”

“Why is he being such a beast?” said Anjali, furiously. “Doesn't he know… ?”

“He doesn't,” said Mansi flatly. She had told Anjali some of the story earlier, the bare details, just enough to satisfy the other girl’s curiosity. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her of Aditya’s disgust for her, of his conviction that she was nothing but a gold-digger, of his seeming hatred for both her and Manish. “He doesn't want to know, and I forbid you to tell him. If he thinks he is punishing me for some sin I've committed, imaginary or real, then let him get his satisfaction. I refuse to beg for mercy, or kneel at his feet. It's his macho pride, which is hurting. Let him take out all his anger. I can take it.”

Mansi was hurting - badly, but her pride was too strong to let him know that. She bore his remarks stoically, doing all the work he gave her, making unnecessary revisions without complaining, knowing he was pushing her to see how far she would bend before she would break. But she didn't intend to give him that satisfaction, not yet. She would not let him see her break.

Anjali was furious.

“You both are mad,” she told Mansi, angrily. “He's pushing you, and you're getting pushed. Both of you are so busy making each other miserable, that you don't even realize what you're doing to each other. One day, one of you has to give. And it won't be him. Tell him, Mansi. Tell him about Manish. Tell him you still love him.”

“He doesn't want to hear anything,” retorted Mansi, obstinately. “And he's told me so himself. If he doesn't want to hear it, I don't want to tell him. And tell him for what? Only to hear him say, I told you so? I told you that you should not have married Manish? No thanks, Angel. I refuse to crawl in front of him.”

“Very well,” said Anjali, angrily. “Stay miserable. I think you're a masochist. But if that makes you happy, so be it. Only, you're not happy, Mansi.”

Mansi shrugged and got on with her work. There was a lot of it, in any case.