"Ma'am, there's a woman with a child who wants to meet you. She's with Soumya ma'am," said the butler to Ashna, whose head had risen beyond the confines of her fingers when she heard of the woman carrying a child.

Soumya Agarwal was the only daughter of Swati, and her unexpected and sudden arrival to her abode had set the cogs of Ashna's mind in motion.

"Did you ask the woman to sit?" she asked, pulling herself to her feet. The butler nodded with a slight smile. "I served them with refreshments, ma'am. She said her name was 'Kriti'."

Ashna stilled midway through donning her flip-flops. The restive silence of the room made easier for the pounding of her heart to reverberate in her ears. The apprehension lurking in the back of her mind had been subdued by her concern and curiosity. With the longest strides, Ashna almost jogged her way to the mother of her husband's child and his child.

Soumya and Kriti's eyes darted towards the shining star of Bollywood, whose slight pant had not escaped their notice. Ashna's gaze fell on the serene and surreal sleeping form of the baby in Kriti's arms.

"Ashna Di!" said Soumya, rising from the plush chair and walking towards the stupefied woman. "Maa sent us here. She thought Kriti Di will be safe here."

Ashna's eyes almost popped out of her sockets and she angled her head towards the other woman. "Safe? Is everything okay?" she asked, inching towards the seated woman, who clutched her baby against her chest.

"I-I fled! I couldn't allow him to take my baby away!" she said, holding the baby tighter against her bosom with her lips turned downwards.

Months, or perhaps even hours ago, there would not be an inkling of hesitation in Ashna's mind to jump in Aniket's defense. But she had listened to him announce his intentions to snatch the newborn from Kriti's arms and hand her over, had she grovelled for his forgiveness.

Without an ounce of regret. Sans a quiver in his voice. How could she defend a man who had declared his intent during a triumphant and impassioned revelation?

"You will not lose the custody of your child, Kriti. I'll make sure of that," vowed Ashna, breaking free of the tumultuous thoughts ravaging her mind. "May I?" she asked, pointing at the tranquil newborn.

Kriti bobbed her head in approval and detached the child from the cocoon of her embrace. The surge of maternal affection in the older woman brought her down to her knees as she knelt next to a seated Kriti.

Her quivering lips twitched sideways, and the mist brewed of equal parts of ecstasy and melancholy kissed her eyes, transfixed on the baby girl. Her button nose, her slight whimpers, her tiny fingers closed around her thumb, and the mole under her ear lobe - nothing had ever fascinated and enticed Ashna Agarwal as much as the little angel.

"She's beautiful! I pray she enjoys every joy the world offers!"

Kriti alternated her gaze between her daughter and the woman she had envied and loathed for years. She had imagined a woman bereft of warmth; an icy beauty with an air of nonchalance - the epitome of chilly winter. But Ashna Agarwal was a harbinger of optimism and faith; a warm woman with compassionate eyes - the splitting image of spring.

Lies, and countless of them! All woven to continue to stay in the embrace of victimhood by a man she had loved for over a decade, and it was never more clear.

"I should have known. After he did to you, how did I expect any consideration from him?"

Creases appeared in the gap of Ashna's shapely eyebrows. "Did to me? I'm not sure if I follow," she said, not wishing to air their dirty laundry and add to new mother's woes.

"How he morphed your pictures in your highschool to get into your good graces. He- "

Kriti stopped when brine flooded Ashna's eyes and her chest rose and fell without a rhythm. Gasps - of shortness of breath and emotional upheaval - escaped Ashna's trembling lips, and she shook her head in vehement dissent. "No, no, no, no! No! He couldn't have done it. He-he wouldn't have done it!"

But even she knew as well as the women reaching out to her, she did not believe the words she had uttered. It was not a matter of how he had done, but how she had missed it. How they had missed it.

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"She just left. Never looked back. She did not call or message. Just gone. And Kriti and the baby are gone, too!"

Aniket buried his head in his hands, holding back the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Vivek placed a hesitant hand over his friend's shoulders. He had no inclination of meeting the man, but the bags under his eyes, the desperation in his voice, and his unkempt beard had convinced Vivek of the changed circumstances.

"Did you love her?" asked Vivek, clinching the chance to quench his curiosity of years.

"Of course, I do! I didn't for the first few months or rather years, but I loved her when I broke my relationship with my parents for forcing her father to sign away his company to me and Ashna," he said.

"She hated him for breaking her mother's heart. And now I made her hate me." A wry and rueful chuckle left his lips. "Do you think she wonders if I loved her?"

"Maybe. Or maybe she knows you do," said Vivek, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Sometimes hidden under layers of complaints, sometimes obscured by years of insecurities, and yet another few times concealed under the need to soothe the ego or out of resentment for the choices I made myself, but the love was not gone. It was far from gone," he mused, with a distant look in his eyes.

"And what about Kriti and your child, Aniket? What do you plan to do?" asked Vivek, unable to see a way to disentangle the knots tied by the circumstances and the choices of those entangled.

"I don't know, Vivek. I don't know!"

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