Codename lotus, p.4
Codename Lotus, page 4
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
Sweat trickled down my back. “Lavender, Naomi. Do you have it growing in your garden?” I managed through gritted teeth.
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
I staggered to the door and stumbled outside, gulping deep breaths of fresh air. “Oh…” I sighed, my shoulders easing. “God, I hate it when this happens.”
Naomi followed me outside, keeping a respectful distance. She had always been good at sensing physical boundaries, and it seemed she hadn’t lost that.
She watched until my breathing steadied. “Better?”
Despite appreciating the gesture, it was bloody embarrassing. My hands slowly uncurled.
I nodded. “Yes.” My voice caught. “I am, thanks.”
Her eyes lingered on me, cautious. Was she reconsidering our arrangement?
If she was, I couldn’t blame her. I suspected Sidharth had told Naomi about Manish, but not everything. He’d never betray my privacy that way.
A movement in the trees caught my eye: a tall blonde woman emerging with a friendly smile. “Who is that?” I asked.
Naomi’s tone shifted, guarded. “Ah, that must be Lea. Helga’s daughter and my temporary housekeeper.”
“How did she get in?”
Naomi’s garden felt secluded, but there was no visible fence separating it from the gorgeous backdrop of the Swiss woodland beyond.
“The housekeeper’s cottage is on the property. It’s less than a quarter mile away. I assume she’s staying there.”
The woman, early to mid-thirties at most, approached eagerly. “Hallo. Good day.” She smiled at Naomi. “You must be Mrs—”
“Oh no.” Naomi’s interruption was swift. “I’m not anyone’s Mrs—nor will I ever be. Call me Naomi.”
Standing beside her, I caught what lay beneath the bluntness. That refusal to be “anyone’s Mrs.” wasn’t apathy; it was guardedness. I admired her, though. I had taken Manish’s last name and regretted it.
Lea shook Naomi’s hand. “I’m Lea Baumgartner, but please call me Lea.”
She turned to me. “And...”
I extended mine. “Saanya. I’m a…” Not a friend. Not exactly family. Not anything, really. I glanced at Naomi. “Guest. I’m Naomi’s guest.”
I smiled in response to Lea’s slightly too-firm grip.
Naomi muttered under her breath, “So much for a delicate flower…”
Lea cut in hesitantly. “I wanted to make sure my mother mentioned that I have my two children with me. They’re seven and ten. Little ones. But they don’t need my constant attention,” she added in a rush. “I told Miss Allison when she called me yesterday.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed.
“She said she’d mention it to you—it won’t interfere with my job. I promise.”
“Make sure that it doesn’t,” Naomi said flatly, changing the subject. “Well, Lea. You can start with breakfast.”
She turned to me. “Could you stomach some fruit and an egg white omelet?”
“I’ll have to give it a miss this time. I’m feeling quite exhausted. I need to lie down.”
I retreated to my bedroom, unable to unhear it. Pregnant? The possibility felt like a sentence.
The last time Manish and I had been intimate, he’d been crude, careless, so mechanically rough. The memory still turned my stomach.
I closed my eyes. The bed where we’d lain. How fitting that I’d have to make it.
Alone, I didn’t leave my room again. I spent the day cocooned in stillness until well past midnight, when I finally drifted to sleep.
The next day, at around noon, there was a knock at my door.
I rose from a light doze, smoothing down my hair. “Come in.”
God, I must look a fright.
For some reason, I prayed that it was Lea, but the fact that it was actually Naomi made me feel less alone for the first time since I’d last said goodbye to my brother and Ravi.
A friend like few others, Ravi had always understood me. Would he understand this? Did anyone understand me at all?
“I’m sure you’d prefer to be alone,” Naomi began, “and I understand that. Trust me, I’d prefer it too,” she muttered to herself, even though I was right there.
“But I made a promise to Sidharth, and I intend to keep that promise. You need to eat.”
“I’m not really hungry, to be honest.”
“Very well,” she said, offering a long, thin packet. “I took the liberty. I hope you don’t mind, and even if you do, it’s best to be prepared.”
I was getting used to Naomi’s clever mouth, but this was so out of character for her. I smiled, the first time in days. “You went out and bought me a pregnancy test?”
“Lea did.”
I read the box.
99% Accuracy.
“Thank you,” I murmured, this time with genuine gratitude.
Naomi gave the smallest nod and left.
It was kind of her, whether born of integrity or loyalty to Sid.
I set the test on a little glass shelf above the sink. Naomi’s mood-lit bathrooms all around the house were oddly comforting.
Phoning India was out of the question. Sid, though…Sid would understand. He wouldn’t judge me or bombard me with expectations and plans for the future.
Because did I even want that future?
If I were pregnant, could I live with the reminder of Manish and how miserable he’d made me, staring back at me for the rest of my life?
Maybe telling anyone would have to wait.
But... one more person already knew.
I slipped on fuzzy socks and pulled my laptop from my suitcase. If I were home, I’d find refuge in work. Instead, I ended up scrolling through pictures of the school.
In my short career, I’d touched the lives of other people’s children, and they had irrevocably changed mine. I had chosen this field because I loved their fresh perspectives, often untainted by their respective adults—until life started to do its job.
As my fingers lingered on the touchpad, I studied their smiling faces, feeling a warmth spread through me.
I thought of a baby possibly growing inside me. A baby that wouldn’t just be his. They would be mine too.
Could I be a good mother?
In a sea of memories, a folder caught my eye:
London 2002
I clicked, and there they were: my school friends in their uniforms, bright and carefree.
I laughed, remembering Mantosh and his obsession with “Gotta Get Thru This,” how he wouldn’t stop singing it that year.
I was right in the middle. Fourteen, grin wide, all elbows and knobby knees, my eyes twinkling with an innocence and freedom I no longer had or felt. Mere weeks before the day I was dragged out of the closet, then shoved back into it.
I snorted softly. “Oh, love, life’s about to get rough, but keep your chin up.” I looked at her a beat longer. “You’ll survive it.”
For a moment, those years came rushing back, the sweet thrill and unease of realizing I liked girls, even while knowing my family would disown me if they knew.
Another photo appeared: a field trip to Cornwall, Sid’s arm over my shoulder, both of us grinning as if life would always feel that good. It was his last year at my school, during his A-levels. Before everything changed.
But in true rabbit-hole fashion, it was a folder inside another folder, tucked away like a secret, that made me stop.
Its name?
Her.
Oh, I knew who “Her” was. My chest squeezed at the memory.
My first love from afar. Begging to go to parties with Sid just to see her. Swallowing my nerves each time she paraded through my home, never once acknowledging my existence.
In that picture was the most beautiful girl my younger self had ever seen. Hair that smelled like fresh jasmine. Green eyes. An aquiline nose that somehow fit her face perfectly. Sunlit skin with three tiny moles on her neck I’d always wanted to kiss.
Naomi Smith-Chopra. Seventeen years old.
That picture had been taken exactly one day before her parents’ airplane crash.
Another song from that time came to mind: “The Scientist.”
I had wanted so badly to comfort Naomi then. So I’d done the next best thing.
Instead of telling her she wasn’t alone, that if only she could understand just how much she meant to me…
While alone in my bedroom, I’d played that song on repeat. Only for her.
I understood now what I couldn’t convey then, that I merely wanted to take her pain away.
I closed my laptop and crawled into bed. Anything was better than this.
When I woke again, I squinted at my phone screen. It was close to 8:00 p.m.
After showering and changing into comfy joggers and an old jumper, I heard a knock.
It was Lea, holding a silver tray.
The savory aroma that hit me instantly made my stomach twist with hunger.
“Good evening, Miss Saanya.”
“Just Saanya,” I said, eyeing the tray. “This smells amazing.”
Lea flushed, gripping it tighter. “Oh, I hoped you wouldn’t be offended.”
“Of course not.” I rushed to appease her. Lea seemed like she was tiptoeing around this house just as much as I was.
“I thought you might like something comforting, so I watched a few videos online, and, well...” She lifted the metal lid. “I read this is a London favorite.”
It was a rich, golden curry, flecked with coriander, and the steam rising from it smelled of spices I’d been craving. My heart ached in the best way.
“Tikka masala,” I said, laughing softly. “Lea, thank you. Really. This…means more to me than you know.”
She seemed relieved. “Just something to bring you comfort. I hope. I know it’s not much, but—”
“It’s perfect,” I cut in, shaking my head, my appetite roaring back. “Absolutely perfect. Come sit, have some with me.”
“Oh no, no. I couldn’t. I still have to serve Miss Naomi her grilled chicken.”
How adventurous of Naomi.
“I’ll leave you to it. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
As she turned to leave—
“Lea, have you seen… her?” What I meant was: has she asked about me?
“Not since earlier. I think she’s been in her office all day. She works so hard.”
My stomach sank.
I shook my head. “That makes sense. Thanks again, Lea.”
After she left, I ate slowly and savored my food.
When Naomi brought the pregnancy test, I’d interpreted it as an olive branch, a subtle gesture of care amid our strained coexistence. But perhaps I’d hoped too much.
Naomi the teenager had barely noticed me, and now, in a strange twist of fate, Naomi the woman was my closest companion in this secluded, beautiful place.
And apparently not much had changed since back then.
It was a shame, really. Part of me had hoped that things could be different.
Thank God for kind Lea.
Barely an hour later, in the dim bathroom light, I exhaled deeply and looked at the two stripes on the white stick.
“Oh,” I choked, shaking.
There it was.
Pregnant.
The word, once so dreadful, now stirred something else. Not just fear, but a thin, fragile thread of… possibility.
I was far from untangling what came next, but for the first time in a long while, my chest didn’t feel entirely hollow.
In the stillness of night, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
4
BALLS OF LINT AND REVELATIONS
NAOMI
After my run one morning, I walked into the kitchen—and stopped cold.
A heavily pregnant cat sat by the door, a small plate of food in front of it. Saanya was crouched nearby, coaxing it in a voice soft enough to butter toast.
“No. Absolutely not. What is this?”
She looked up with wide “innocent” eyes. “She was at the door, Naomi. She’s hungry.”
“This isn’t a shelter, Saanya. I don’t need a litter of kittens running around.”
“Naomi, she’s starving. And she’s not an it—she’s a she, and she’s expecting. We can’t just throw her out.”
I gritted my teeth. “It is filthy.” The cat was probably white under all that grime.
Saanya’s eyes widened. She knew what she was doing with that “innocent surprised reaction” façade.
“Oh no, I promise you she isn’t. Nothing a good bath can’t fix.” She smiled, scratching the cat as it devoured its meal. “Right?” she cooed.
“Nature belongs outside, not in my house.” Didn’t she know who she was dealing with?
“But you have an indoor zen garden.”
“I do. It’s perfectly situated behind glass and tended daily by a professional. Why bring it into my kitchen? I don’t want bugs crawling into my coffee. No.”
“She has no critters. Just wait until she’s clean, Naomi. You’ll love her.”
Love her? I wanted to barf.
Still, she wasn’t wrong. The cat did look too weak to have made it this far without help. I exhaled through my nose.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll keep her outside and find a warm, cozy little place for her to give birth. That way she won’t be near the house.”
Given Saanya’s condition, it felt like bad form to scoff at her nesting instincts and tell her that I didn’t care.
“I’ll have to pass. I’m not a pet person. I don’t want animals roaming around inside. And think of the insects—fleas, Saanya. The last thing I need is an infestation…crawling…ugh.” I shuddered, almost feeling the filthy tingling.
When Saanya reached for her phone, I caught the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, the subtle slump of her shoulders. She looked subdued, deflated even—which wasn’t my problem.
Still, as I turned to the coffee machine, a strange unease settled in my chest. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. No, guilt required a level of involvement I didn’t have here. This was…something else entirely.
Days later, I caught the flea incubator dragging three small lumps toward the garden door.
She must be so sure I wouldn’t notice that she never sent that damn cat away like I’d asked.
The mother cat froze, locking her chocolate-brown eyes with mine as if daring me to object.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. You’re lucky Saanya’s on your side. If it were up to me, you’d be scaling Mont Salève looking for a better sucker.”
She ignored me, curling around her three balls of lint.
At least she doesn’t pretend to have remorse.
“Fine. Do what you want. But if one flea crosses that threshold, it’s war.”
The pregnancy revelation hit like a freight train, disrupting my neat lines of separation between work and everything else. I wasn’t used to this uncertainty. It was as if my home had suddenly become foreign territory.
What was next? A nursery in my spare room?
I was fetching water when Saanya walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets.
I huffed a laugh. “Well, good thing you’re feeling right at home.”
If she’d rolled her eyes any harder, we’d be in another time zone.
Then I saw it.
The cat. Clean, white, smug. Crouching like a perfect loaf of bread right outside my kitchen door.
“Oh. You washed her.”
Saanya didn’t even look up from pulling a pan from the cabinet. “She’s not a towel, Naomi. I bathed her.”
At least she looked her actual color now, instead of the street-filth aesthetic from before.
“And for your information and peace of mind,” Saanya added, “Lea found a place for her and her kittens on her mother’s side of the property.”
“Hm.”
I was about to reply when she squeezed past me to open the refrigerator, brushing me aside without hesitation or basic spatial awareness. The audacity.
“What?” she asked when she caught me staring.
Judging by the ingredients she’d laid out—and with it being Lea’s day off—I assumed she was making dinner. The very organization of the spices and utensils was soothing.
“You can cook?”
“Have you met my family? Traditional Bengali parents. Of course I can cook, Naomi.”
Saanya plucked out a bunch of cilantro, set a knife and cutting board on the counter, and paused long enough to throw me an expectant look.
I stared back. “What is it?”
Her brow lifted toward the herbs.
“Surely you don’t mean—”
“If you can dismantle companies with the flick of a finger, I’m confident you can handle coriander.”
“Me? Chop cilantro?” I wanted to laugh. In fact, I did.
“You’ll be eating too,” she said, fetching a pan. “It’s only fair you help.”
I opened my mouth, ready to deliver a retort, but nothing came. “I guess you’re right.”
But if I was going to subject myself to house chores, water wasn’t going to cut it.
I uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for myself. None for Saanya, given the obvious.
“All right,” I said, folding the cuffs of my shirt. Cooking was, after all, just following instructions, wasn’t it? How hard could it be?
I picked up the knife, feeling its unfamiliar weight.
“So…occupational hazards?” Saanya eyed me while kneading dough.
What?
I turned to look at her, confused.
“Your business call earlier. Sounded grueling.”
Ah. That. “Yes. Well, it’s a complex project I am working on. Requires precision.” I grinned, slicing through the stalks. “It’s about finesse, and a taste for the mess, I suppose.”
“My…” Saanya trailed off, her voice fading into the sizzle of the onions sautéing.
I felt her eyes on me, perhaps watching the way my fingers navigated the cilantro on the cutting board. I was hopeless at this, but better dead than bested by a bunch of leaves.
