The Homecoming: Preeti Shenoy Explores Forbidden Love And Deception

To the world, Alka’s life is picture-perfect—she lives a charmed existence in a beautiful heritage bungalow on her husband Subbu’s coffee estate with their two lovely daughters. But when disaster strikes after Subbu’s near-fatal accident, buried secrets begin to surface, ripping apart the veneer of perfection. Even as Alka struggles to care for her husband and revive the fortunes of the failing estate, she is faced with an agonising choice: fight for her strained marriage or give in to the long-dormant love she feels for her brother-in-law, Krish.

Can Alka’s marriage survive the weight of deception? Or will a forbidden love damage hearts and destroy lives?

A moving continuation of the story that began in Preeti Shenoy’s bestselling novel A Place Called Home, The Homecoming draws readers into a deep exploration of love, betrayal, and the dangerous secrets we keep from ourselves and the world.

Here's an excerpt from The Homecoming by Preeti Shenoy

While the girls settled in and did their homework, Alka sat back and thought about how much her mother would have loved to see her daughters. After her mother passed away, Alka had felt orphaned and alone. But then the unexpected connection with Renuka Mavshi had emerged, and she cherished that relationship so much now. She made a mental note to call her soon. It had been well over seven months since they last spoke. Residing in the coffee estate meant living in near isolation, with little communication with the outside world. The only network which worked was a BSNL connection, and that too was erratic. 

Alka and the girls looked out the window when they heard Subbu’s jeep pulling up outside. A steel-grey Honda Civic had followed the jeep. Subbu had arrived with two other people—an elderly gentleman dressed in a white full-sleeved shirt and grey trousers, and a lady in a pale green salwar kameez, her grey hair cut short. 

‘Who is that?’ Nisha asked.

Alka shrugged. ‘Let me quickly get ready, okay? Tell Appa I am upstairs if he asks,’ she told her girls as she rushed up the flight of stairs to her bedroom.

She hated it when Subbu brought guests home without informing her in advance. She hurriedly brushed her hair, applied some eyeliner and checked her outfit in the mirror. She was wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of track pants.

‘Alka! Where are you?’ Subbu’s voice rang out.

‘Coming!’ she shouted back, deciding that there was no time to change into something nicer.

When she came downstairs, the guests were already seated in the formal living room.

‘Hello,’ she greeted them, wishing she was dressed better.

‘Meet my wife, Alka. Alka, this is Dr Sethuram and his wife Nalini,’ Subbu said.

‘I am Mrs Senapathy’s sister. I think you might have met her at Anandi’s memorial meet,’ Nalini said, smiling.

Alka’s back stiffened when she heard that name. She had presumed she was done with whatever had happened in the past when the secret about her identity had been discovered. It was Mrs Senapathy who had alerted her mother’s old employer, Mrs Shetty, of Alka’s whereabouts. Did Nalini also know about Alka’s background? Even as her heartbeat shot up, Alka smiled sweetly, pretending nothing was wrong.

‘How lovely. Welcome to our estate,’ she said, her facial expression giving nothing away. Over the years, Alka had learnt to mask every single emotion she felt. Her face was inscrutable. Keeping secrets was something she excelled at.

If Nalini knew anything about Alka’s past, she showed no signs of it. Instead, she explained that they were on their way to Coorg and had stopped over as her nephew, who was Subbu’s business associate, had insisted they visit Subbu.

‘Of course, how can you pass Sakleshpur and not stop here?’ Alka played the gracious hostess, a role she’d perfected over the years. She instructed Gowramma and Selvi to serve some snacks and coffee. Within no time, they laid out a delectable spread of Malnad snacks—crispy roasted pathrode, roasted cheenikayi kadubu, deep fried vegetable pakoras and filter coffee. Alka was proud of the tradition of hospitality that Anandi had taught her, and she kept it up.

The guests were delighted and they chattered away happily as they dug into the food. Alka excused herself to check in on the girls who had finished their homework by then. 

‘Can we go outside and play?’ Tulika asked.

‘Only after you greet our guests properly,’ Alka replied.

After the girls greeted the guests and politely answered the usual questions—What class are you in? Which school do you go to?—they went outside to play.

‘Such sweet girls, and what excellent manners,’ Nalini remarked.

‘All credit goes to Alka.’ Subbu beamed proudly. Alka smiled in response and made polite conversation, playing the role of a hostess to perfection.

After they left, Alka waited until the Honda Civic disappeared around the bend before giving in to her annoyance.

‘Why in the world didn’t you tell me we would have guests? How many times have I told you to inform me in advance?’ she asked Subbu.

‘I didn’t know they were coming myself.’ His dismissive tone irked Alka further.

‘Do you mean to say they suddenly descended on you? Didn’t you know about it in the morning? Didn’t they call?’

‘I got the call when I was on the estate rounds. I was busy with the labour.’

‘Subbu, it would’ve taken you all of thirty seconds to let me know.’

‘What does it matter whether I let you know or not? It’s not as though you had to cook everything yourself.’

‘It’s not about that. I would have dressed better. And I would have at least been prepared. It was a shock to hear that she is Mrs Senapathy’s sister. I’m disturbed about it, Subbu.’

‘You are the one who hid your past, Alka. For an entire decade. You pretended to be someone you were not. If you hadn’t done that, maybe you wouldn’t be so disturbed now,’ Subbu’s voice seethed with suppressed fury. His face darkened with indignation as he climbed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He rushed to his jeep and sped away before Alka could utter another word.

All she could do was stare after him in disbelief and feel hurt.

Extracted with permission from The Homecoming by Preeti Shenoy; published by Harper Collins