"Are you sure you want to do this, Kamal?" Satyavati ji asked with a look of genuine concern on her face as she leaned on the bedroom doorway.

"Yes. I need to do it."

"Okay. I go sleep downstairs. Take your time. I'll leave a key on the kitchen table. Lock up when you leave. I'll get the key from you later."

I nodded and watched silently as Satyavati Murty walked down the stairs. Today, Satyavati would have become my mother-in-law, but fate conspired to keep us from having that relationship. Vandana died two weeks ago. Died senselessly as a drunken filmstar in Mumbai crossed the centreline with his expensive SUV, lost control and plowed into Vandana on the footpath as she was waiting for the light to turn green. We had been waiting for her to come home, Satyavati and I, so we could go out to dinner. It was not to be.

Satyavati and I comforted one another as best we could through the funeral. Satyavati was able to focus on work and get past her grief a little. I, on the other hand, had nothing to focus on. Work was to have started in two weeks, after we returned from our honeymoon. Fresh into my job at Relience and engaged to the most beautiful woman on earth, I had the world in the palm of my hand.

Now I sat with my head in my hands on the only bed that Vandana had slept in. She was to have been a virgin bride, something that meant a great deal to her. Several times we came close to ending that dream of hers, but we never crossed that line. Neither of us believed that anything could come between that dream and us. But now it had.

Now that Vandana was gone, Satyavati was going to sell the house. It was too big for her, and the payments had strapped her for all of the five years since her husband had died. It was because of the house payments that Vandana worked. She could not afford to finish her degree without working.

I asked Satyavati if I could be the one who sorted through Vandana's things, packing her clothes away to give to Goodwill, saving that which meant something to either of us, and boxing up the rest. Satyavati had agreed, warily, worried that it would be too much for me.

She was right. It was too much. Each object I picked up brought a memory to mind. The pink top that she had worn on our first date. The red lace brassiere she wore the night she opened her blouse and placed my hands on her breasts the first time. Even the tennis shoes she wore to drub me each time we set foot on the tennis court. They all had a memory to show me.

I emptied her dresser one drawer at a time, mechanically, reliving a memory with each garment I folded and placed into the box. Finally, the last drawer, her underwear drawer, was empty. There was an manila envelope on the bottom.

The envelope had my name on it. I carried it back to the bed and sat down. Turning it over, I unfastened the clasp holding the envelope closed. I emptied the contents onto my lap. Four pictures spilled out upside down, followed by a note.

"My darling Kamal. If you are reading this note something has happened to me. You have been so sweet and wonderful about not pushing me into sex, even though I know you wanted me badly. That is just one of the many things I have always loved about you. These pictures are for you. I had Yasmine take them. I will love you forever, Vandana."

With tears in my eyes, I turned the pictures over. Each one was a masterpiece. Vandana revealed to the camera the body she promised to me, "Anyway, anywhere, anyhow, any time, but only after we are married". She may not have been a model, thin and perfect in her form and physique, but to me the pictures only confirmed my belief that she was the most beautiful woman on earth.

Carefully I put the pictures into their envelope and set it in the box of things I was going to take with me. I picked up the snow globe that I had given her for her birthday two years ago and shook it. The artificial snow swirled around the ballet dancer. I turned the key and the strains of "Dil Kya Kare" filled the room. I watched mesmerized as the dancer spun on her platform. I set it down on the dresser and then turned and suddenly felt dizzy. I dropped to the floor.

When I looked up the room was dark and yet little beams of light traversed the walls as if one of those mirrored balls were spinning on the ceiling. A mist rolled in from the door and I could hear a piano playing " Dil Kya Kare ".

That's when I saw her. Naked except for a pair of pink ballet slippers, she danced toward me with a happy smile on her face.

"Kamal," she whispered, holding her hand out to me.

I rose as if in a trance and we danced. We danced together for a long time. Her bare back cool against my hand, her hand icy in mine, but that didn't matter, her body felt so wonderful in my arms once again. She laid her head against my shoulder and held me close as we danced. Time seemed to stand still.

I don't know how my clothes disappeared and I don't care. It was heavenly to hold her body in my hands, touching those parts we had denied ourselves for so many months. Driving our passion onward, fanning the flames of desire, we caressed each other endlessly.

Her kisses were warm, despite the coldness in her lips. We stopped dancing as our hands explored the wonders of each other's naked form. Her sighs and gasps followed the music as our passion rose. The music continued as she lay back on the bed, beckoning me to her.

No words can express the feeling of ecstasy as our bodies joined, fulfilling the promise of our souls. Our bodies writhed and rocked fuelled by the passions of lovers long denied until with a great gasp we climaxed together and sighed. I felt myself falling and then lay still on her bed.

Sadly she stood and kissed my cheek. "I must go now, my love," she said, kissing my cheek. "And you must carry on. You have many years to go before you join me again. Live them well, Kamal. Do not be sad and alone, but carry my memory with you always. Until we meet again."

I tried to sit up but was too weak. And then the mists faded, dragging her away from me again. Silence engulfed the room, except for that music box and its dancer as they slowed and then stopped.

I must've passed out because the next thing I knew, Satyavati was shaking me. "Kamal?"

"Oh, hi, Satyavati. I must've fallen asleep. I had the strangest dream."

"But why am I wearing these ballet slippers? Aren’t these Vandana’s? Vandana hadn't been in a ballet class since she was 12."

"I don't know," I smiled, placing the slippers in my box with the music box and the photos.