Chapter 2

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Her house was an intimate one, with a walkway that had a monstrously branched Mango tree on the left, followed by a thorny, lime tree, and an assorted array of shrubs like a Crimson rose shrub, aloe vera, and crape jasmine on the right.

An uncompromising vine of pink Bougainvillea had crept up her compound wall, embellishing a neat, stubborn frame over her short, iron gates, and had carpeted the stretch of narrow walkway with its pink petals.

She exited her house, clad in a pair of blue jeans and a matching maroon collared tee shirt. Her bag was strapped on her back, and her hands, tightly wrapped around a food bowl with mixed dry rice and cereal bran. Nearing the mango tree, she hooked the food bowl to the ring that was clasped around the tree.

Just when she thought she was good to go to work, her eyes spotted a young woman in her neighboring compound.

Her neighbouring house had been vacant for a long time now—ever since she'd moved into her house seven months ago. She'd contemplated it was no more vacant when she found the house brightened with lights, diffusely visible through the closed windows, by the time she came home from work last night.

With her hand tenderly resting on her fully pregnant belly, and the other one planted on her hips, the woman was taking a gentle stroll to and fro in the walkway of their house.

"Hi." She waved at the pregnant lady. "I am Rumi."

The pregnant woman shuffled towards the compound with a soft smile playing on her lips. "Hi, Rumi. I am Amrutha," she reciprocated, watching Rumi step into the muddy area to greet her.
And Amrutha took her hand readily, for a firm handshake.

"How do you like your new house?" asked Rumi, cheerfully.

A soft chuckle escaped Amrutha's lips, followed by a denying head shake. "I don't live here. My brother has moved in. I just came for a small visit," she cleared up, beckoning her thumb towards the door.

"Ammu, here's your Tupperware." A deep-throated, versant voice called out from distant.

Rumi's heart skipped a beat when it could tag a face to that voice.
Google boy.

Her eyes roamed over to his tall frame, standing at the doorstep with the same, knowing gaze, and a slightly teasing smile.

Amrutha turned around towards her brother, and waved a signalling hand at him. "Anna, come here. I got you a new friend."

Google boy trudged down to them, his eyes on her startled ones, as if he was amused.

Pulling herself out of the daze, Rumi took note of time from her wrist watch. Realizing she'd had an appointment in twenty minutes, she lifted her eyes to Amrutha, compellingly. "So nice meeting you, Amrutha. I think I should get going now, as I am running late for work."

Amrutha nodded along. "Likewise. See you around, Rumi."

Rumi switched her glance to Google boy, and tipped her head like a good girl, conveying her goodbye.

And, as she walked away, she'd figured her heartbeats hadn't sped down ever since the guy flashed his slipshod, boyish smile at her.

Since that day, they kept encountering each other in distinct situations.

When Rumi clambered upstairs to collect her sundried clothes, Google boy was on top of his water tank, brushing, and cleaning it.

When Google boy was digging up the soil in his front porch, Rumi would be watering her plants.

When Rumi would be in the kitchen, exerting herself at prepping a decent meal for her with the help of YouTube videos, Google boy would be in his kitchen, making his food, just offhandedly.

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