Nihaal sat in the garden quietly, the evening newspaper lying untouched and the tea was cold. It had been three days to that infernal night, two days to the night when he and Suhasini had gladly decided that ‘the kiss’ was nothing but an aberration. Brought upon by the punch, it was nothing to be worried about and Nihaal had hoped to leave it in the past. But it was far away from being in the past. Nihaal had hardly slept properly since that night, every time he had closed his eyes, he had felt the soft and warm touch of Suhasini’s arm when he had touched it with his fingertips. Rani in his dream had been right – his world did seem to have been altered.
Nihaal and Suhasini had formed a habit of having the evening tea together in the garden – friendly chat, some banter and ofcourse the
