The sun had set moments ago, leaving the sky tinged with shades of red, orange, and copper. The courtyard of the Parliament House almost glowed in the fading sunlight, resplendent with colorful flowers and panoramic greenery. On any other day, Abhijat would have enjoyed his routine walk through the grounds.

Yet, all he could think of was yesterday’s dinner. Rito’s laughter and her contagious excitement, as she told them about her new job at the university. The way she had raved about Sinya Haval and her books. The plans she had made about surprising their parents with the news. And the baffled disappointment in her eyes when he had failed to share in her joy.

He’d told her he had a headache, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. Not really. Rito always knew when he was lying; not that he was a very good liar to begin with. He could see her trying to cover up the hurt in her eyes as she joked with the waiters and discussed her plans with Ruqaiya.

And throughout the evening, he bit his tongue to keep himself from telling her the truth. But the one thing that was more intolerable than the thought of Rito being angry with him, was that of her feeling defeated, feeling like a failure.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

And so, he had kept his mouth shut and done his best to share in his sister’s happiness. And he still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.

He rounded the corner into the front yard. A man dressed in orange and black detached himself from a group of similarly dressed workers and approached him.

“We’re done for the day,” he said, nodding at Abhijat. He was broad shouldered, wore a thick moustache, and was almost as tall as Abhijat. He held a black cap in his large, callused hands, attached to thick forearms with more than a few scars on them. “We’ll be back tomorrow to check if any of the new pipes are causing trouble. But apart from that, the work is almost over.”

Abhijat nodded, and accompanied him to his truck. All their gear had already been packed into the back, and some of the crew members were taking off their overalls before jumping into the vehicle.

“No trouble, I hope,” Abhijat said, more out of politeness than real curiosity.

Every six months, the pipes were cleaned and any minor damages repaired. The work had been going on for the past week, and by now Abhijat knew most of the plumbing crew by face, if not by name.

The man assured him that everything was in order, put on his cap, and jumped in beside the driver. The truck rumbled to life, lurched forward, and rounded the corner towards the exit gates.

Out of the corner of his eye, Abhijat saw a flickering brightness in one of the second floor windows. He turned. An orange and gold light flared in the balcony of the Prime Minister’s office.