The Bentley glided through the gates of Yamuna Riverside at dusk.
Golden floodlights bathed the 1,200-square-yard estate: white marble façade, lotus-shaped fountain, and the ancient banyan whose roots curled like protective arms around the northeast corner.
Priya pressed her nose to the window. "Papa, it's a palace!"
Rajesh Kumar ruffled her hair. "Your palace, beta."
Little Sheru (still in Pug form) barked once, tail wagging so hard his entire backside wiggled.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh paint and mogra. The biometric lock chirped; the double-height doors swung inward on silent hinges.
Priya squealed and sprinted across the Italian marble, arms wide, as if trying to hug the entire foyer.
"Echo! Echo! Echo!" Her voice bounced off the crystal chandelier.
Rajesh set down the single duffel bag (all they owned) and flicked a finger.
Every light in the villa bloomed to life. The smart-home system greeted them in a gentle female voice:
"Welcome home, Mr. Kumar. Temperature set to 24 °C. Would you like the pool heated?"
Priya's eyes went round. "The house talks!"
Rajesh chuckled. "Only when we want her to. Say hello, beta."
"Hello, house!" Priya waved.
The system responded with a playful chime.
They explored room by room.
- Kitchen: island the size of their old flat, induction hobs, and a fridge already stocked (the concierge had taken Rajesh's telepathic grocery list at noon).
- Priya's bedroom: pastel pink walls, a canopy bed shaped like a lotus, and a ceiling painted with glow-in-the-dark constellations.
- Garden: infinity pool shimmering turquoise, swing hanging from the banyan, and a corner patch of soft grass where Little Sheru immediately rolled like a furry pancake.
Rajesh knelt beside the pool, trailing fingers through the water.
He whispered an ancient rune; the surface rippled, then calmed.
From tomorrow, the pool would self-purify with spiritual spring water (no chlorine, no algae, just liquid starlight).
Dinner was simple but divine: aloo paratha with dahi, jeera rice, and Rajesh's special paneer butter masala.
Priya sat on a booster seat, legs swinging, cheeks stuffed.
"Papa, this is better than the hotel where Mummy films!"
Rajesh's heart twinged at the mention of Anjali, but he smiled. "Wait till you try tomorrow's dosa."
After bath-time (Priya in a duck-shaped tub big enough to swim in), Rajesh tucked her into the lotus bed.
Little Sheru curled at the foot like a living hot-water bottle.
"Papa, story?" Priya yawned.
Rajesh sat on the edge, voice low.
"Once upon a time, there was a brave little princess who lived in a palace by the Yamuna…"
He wove a tale of a girl who befriended a magical tiger cub and flew across the stars on a lotus petal.
By the time the princess in the story fell asleep under the same glow-in-the-dark sky, Priya's breathing had slowed to tiny puffs.
Rajesh kissed her forehead, then stepped onto the terrace.
The Yamuna flowed black and silver beyond the garden wall.
Crickets sang. Somewhere, a temple bell tolled nine times.
He closed his eyes.
Divine sense unfurled like a silk scarf, sweeping the estate, the riverbank, the distant lights of Gurgaon.
No threats. No prying eyes.
Yet.
A soft ping from his phone.
Unknown number.
He opened the message:
**Unknown:** Congratulations on the new home, Mr. Kumar.
We should talk.
—Garuda Force, Unit 7.
Rajesh's lips curved.
So the guardians had noticed the wormhole after all.
He typed back:
**Rajesh:** Tomorrow. 11 a.m.
Bring filter coffee.
He hit send, pocketed the phone, and looked up at the moon.
"One day at a time," he murmured.
Then he went inside, locked the doors with a casual wave of two fingers, and let the villa settle into its first quiet night.