It was the Sunday morning, the morning of her supposed engagement with Darsh Rathore. Like any other morning, yet completely different. Her anger from last night had subsided now, giving way to a steely determination. It was necessary to do the needful. She was going to do what her teachers had taught her all along. That a doctor sometimes had to make hard decisions. That the health of a body depended on the timely removal of rotten parts.

She got ready and took Aron to the village green to meet the little boy, Uday, for his promised riding lesson. For that one hour, she forgot her worries, although at the back of her mind remained a strange quiet. Her Dad was there giving her frowning looks, shaking his head in disapproval. He would never have let her act so rashly. There was always a better solution, he would have said stoically. Aditi smiled. This was from a man who'd committed suicide, who hadn't been able to find a way out of his own crippling misery. One who had left her alone, knowingly choosing grief over the love of his own daughter.

Her Ma was there too, crying silent tears. Finding the love of your life was the greatest happiness, said her solemn face. Well, what did she know? She was lucky to have found her love when she did. Not everyone was so lucky, definitely not Aditi.

She had her own life to live, her own choices to make. And she would make them the way she wanted to. The dead had no bearing over them, neither did the living.

Her mind reeled with wayward thoughts as she finally started for home. The three plain-clothes policemen waiting patiently by the side road promptly fell in line behind her. They did not need to pretend otherwise. The whole Palampur today was teaming with dodgy-looking men. Half of them were Darsh Rathore's men who'd sprouted magically from among the tourists. The boy is living up to his expectations, her Dadaji had gushed proudly.

The rest of them were actual police officers the IG Police had deployed for the special occasion of her engagement. This was to deter any untoward incident from happening, considering the fallout this engagement will cause with the Raisinghs. Aditi had to give it was a clever move by her Dadaji. The Raisinghs won't do anything foolish with so many on their watch.

Alas, it wasn't a permanent solution. The police would leave in a day and so would Darsh Rathore's men. It all came down to her, her perfect plan to weed out the root of this problem.

Reaching home, she sent a quick text to Vivaan.

"I'm sorry, but I can't go against my Dadaji's wishes."

Turning off her phone, she ate a light lunch, then took a deep, rejuvenating nap. She had to look fresh for tonight, as a girl in love, illuminating radiance, brimming with happiness. Her plan tonight depended on Vivaan seeing her like this, the rest of it would automatically fall in place.

*****

Purple evening sky reflected itself in the vast waters of river Paulomi that flowed hugging the Queen's Lounge in its gentle curve. The river was deep here, calm and full of weeds. It got shallower as it flowed further, meandering through the rocky crags towards a plunging waterfall a mile away.

When he was little, Balwant used to come here with his friends. Jumping in the dark waters from atop the bridge was their favorite pastime. He still remembered those days fondly. A few years later, his father had built the racecourse and developed the surrounding area. But the charm of the place still remained intact.

Tonight it shined with a special glow. The sinking sun in the west had set waves of orange skittering through the sky. That, coupled with thousands of lights twinkling in the bushes, had made the evening even more magical.

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The grounds of the Queen's Lounge teamed with people- friends, business partners, industrialists, politicians, whoever could scramble here at such short notice. Many were shocked, so much that they had taken last-minute flights to be here tonight. No one wanted to miss the chance to meet his future son-in-law - Darsh Rathore, the dark horse, the unexpected winner of a race they hadn't even realized was on. An obscure businessman from Delhi who was nudging his way past other established aspirants.

"Where have you been hiding, young man?" Mrs. Zaweri, the profligate socialite, ogled at him unabashedly. "We all thought Vivaan Raisingh was the lucky bastard. But I must say, this comes as a pleasant surprise!"

"Not hiding, Mrs. Zaweri, just waiting for the right moment," Darsh answered with a playful wink. "I believe one should only strike when the iron is hot."

The group around them erupted in laughter. Mrs. Zaweri blushed furiously.

Balwant shook his head. The boy was certainly making an impression tonight. His sleek talks and sleeker looks had the ladies swooning. To his amusement, some gents too looked rather taken. Balwant had to give the boy looked rather dapper, even a tad better than his Susheel on his own engagement day.

"Never heard of you before. Where did you say you are from?" Randeep Dawar, Balwant's long-term friend and lawyer, stepped forward, claiming Darsh's attention. Being a lawyer, Dawar felt entitled to ask rude questions. Balwant shot him a warning look, but Dawar's eyes stayed on Darsh.

"I am from Delhi, Mr. Dawar," Darsh answered, taking it in stride. "And you are lucky we didn't cross paths. Believe me, many people I deal with wish they'd never met me in the first place."

Another laughter broke, louder this time to hide the startled looks. Dawar pulled Balwant aside.

"I hope you know what you are doing. Who is this guy? Never heard of him before. I hope you've been careful."

Balwant gave an imperceptible shrug. He had done his homework and vetted the boy. What was there to think? Moreover, Aditi liked the boy. That settled it for him. "He's just what I need to deal with the Raisinghs, Dawar. You know I can't rely on anyone."

They continued their walk, casually roaming through the gardens sporting flutes of rare champagne. The staff at the Queens had outdone themselves, the place shined like a jewel in the crown. Lights twinkled in blooming rose bushes, the air itself felt heavy with the richness of life.

If the boy was impressed by this extravagance, he did a splendid job of hiding it. But people around him were not so subtle. Every now and then, he saw men throwing spurious glances. The young were jealous. They had all aspired for the same honor, each of them had vied for Aditi's hand. His golden granddaughter with her golden inheritance was a distant dream for many. Alas, nobody was able to come this far. The Raisingh reputation had seen to it.

The older men were guarded, assessing the boy through raised glasses. He was new money and old conservatives like them did not like mixing with riff-raff.

Well, tough for them, Balwant shrugged his shoulders. Once married to Aditi, the boy would become as good as them, or even better. He'd wield a power few of them hadn't desired themselves. It was all jealousy, not to mention fear that he had finally found someone to replace his late son.

He glanced at his watch, then at the magnificently carved door of the Queen's Lounge. It was about time. Aditi should be here any minute. He saw the boy's eyes flitting towards the door and smiled.

"She'd be here soon. She's coming with Zorawar." The boy nodded. His face was full of eagerness, the happiness of a man getting his heart's wish. Balwant knew that face well. It was the face of his Susheel on his own engagement day when he had stood waiting for his Meera in this very place.

Some other faces though...he rather wished they were not here. Like his son Ravi, who'd grabbed a bar stool too high for his height the moment he arrived and was now getting drunk. Like Ravi's wife, Mansi, whose face looked like soured milk, no doubt wondering why this was Aditi's engagement and not her daughter's. And her daughter Nehal, dressed head-to-toe in a garish orangey-peachy shade, stuck out like a sore thumb in the elegantly dressed crowd.

Not to forget his friend Dalpat, who stood in a far corner surrounded by his usual cronies. Balwant had a hard time keeping his eyes off that corner. Dalpat shouldn't be here. He should be home in his den, planning some ghastly revenge to settle the scores. The police he had deployed were successful in containing him for tonight, but Balwant knew it was coming - brutal retribution, something he'd dreaded for ages. A sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow. As if on cue, Dalpat raised his eyes.

His sharp gaze cut through the crowd to meet his. Balwant felt a stab of pain in his chest.

***** *****

TBC...