Page 30 of No Boss
“And now he is coming himself.”
Her hands opened, empty.
“I don’t know what he will say. Or what he will decide. I don’t know what I will do either.” Her jaw tightened. “That has never happened before.”
She straightened.
“But I know this.”
Her voice regained its ground.
“This is my home. Whatever paper he holds. Whatever name is written on it. These walls are mine. You are mine. And I am not leaving.”
Her eyes stayed on the goddess.
“And if he doesn’t drop this idea…” Her tone cooled. “I will pack him into his own suitcase and send him back to Dubai myself.”
The words came so plainly that even she paused at them.
She stepped forward and touched the frame. The nail had slipped again. It always did. She fixed it carefully, as she had many times before.
It tilted once more. Of course it did. She left it alone. For reasons she did not try to name, she felt lighter.
The door opened. Gauri entered, took one look at her daughter, and sighed. It was a familiar sound. Years of knowing what Meera could do lived inside it. “What are you planning now?”
Meera kept moving.
Gauri closed the door and came closer. Worry had settled deeper into her face over the past weeks. It showed in the way she held herself, the weight she could not put down. “Your father cannot sleep. He sits with the account books. Pretends to read.”
Meera’s jaw tightened. “Then he should be angry too.”
“He is,” Gauri answered, her voice firm. “But tomorrow, whatever you feel, you keep it inside. One wrong word and we lose everything.”
Meera met her gaze. She saw the exhaustion, the fear that no longer tried to hide. “I know what’s at stake, Maa Sa.”
“Then remember it when he arrives.”
Silence settled between them.
“I won’t create a scene,” Meera’s voice softened.
Gauri studied her face, searching for what remained unspoken. She reached out and touched her cheek. “Check if the family rooms are ready.”
“I will.”
Gauri left.
Meera stood still for a few breaths after the door closed. Then she looked back at the goddess.
“I said I won’t create a scene,” she murmured. “Don’t take his side just because he is an Anand.”
She fixed her dupatta, turned, and stepped out.
Rajan and two maids worked in the family wing corridor, finishing the last details.
“Thakurain Sa’s room?” Meera asked.
“Done, Didi. Fresh linens. Water. Everything.”
