If Cambridge had one universally accepted fact, it was this:
Prince Raghuveer belonged to his mother.
Completely.
Absolutely.
Unquestionably.
He was a mama's boy in the purest sense of the phrase.
His favourite place in the entire world was not his cot.
Not Sara's bookstore.
Not the library.
Not even Mrs Kapoor's kitchen where mysterious biscuits somehow appeared from nowhere.
It was his mother's arms.
Always.
If Alankrita held him, the world was correct.
If she put him down, he immediately began negotiations for reconsideration.