Maybe In Another Life | ✓

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She informed me that they eat everything. Because it was my first kitchen ceremony, I was free to make whatever I wanted, but her brother is a picky eater, which made me roll my eyes.

She said he likes anything with chicken, which I kind of expected. Whenever he came to the cafe, he ordered the same thing. Then there is kheer, which is everyone's favourite sweet dish.

"Uhh, but Muktha, do you know where your brother is?" I tried to ask her casually.

"No, I think he left, but no one saw him. "He had a sore throat in the morning," she explained as she rolled peas in her palm. I let out a sigh and nodded.

A sore throat? That is why he had water, and I snitched on him.

But where has he gone? Nobody noticed him leave. Everyone appears to be normal as if they are used to his absence. He has been gone for quite some time now. It has been hours since I woke up, and he was gone before that.

What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking about him, and more importantly, why am I worried about him? Not my place.

"Chandini?" Muktha's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked at her, and she was staring down. I felt embarrassed as soon as I looked down.

I have been stirring an empty pot the whole time, thinking about that moron. I cleared my throat, feeling heat creep up to my neck.

~

I was setting the table when the siblings came to help me. We settled to have dinner, but the space beside me was empty, and it was bothering me more than I wanted.

Everyone continued their meal and complimented me; Papa even gave me money as a token of his blessing. I thanked them and helped Athwa finish his meal.

They should have asked about him, right? Their son hasn't been home for the last few hours. They went to their rooms one by one, but I was still at the table, having not touched anything. Papa noticed.

"Beta call him. But I suggest you do not wait for him because you never know when he will return," Papa said as he patted my head and walked away.

Muktha tried calling him, but he did not answer. I crossed my legs on the chair and rested my arms on the table to support my head. If he frequently returns late, as Papa claimed, it means he eats alone.

Why do I feel bad for him?

I was tired and tried my hardest to stay awake, but I fell asleep.

-------------

I awoke with the unsettling feeling that I was being watched. I raised my head and felt the presence of another person beside me. Without thinking, I swing my fist in a combative manner, but it is caught mid-air by someone.

"Woah, relax, darling," he said, his tone gentle, and I relaxed. He cleared his throat and took my hand in his.

"Why are you sleeping here?"

He is losing his senses as he ages.

"Ohh, the chairs looked comfortable; I wanted to see if that was true or not; that is why," I said and shrugged my shoulders, and he quirked a brow. Moron!!

I stood up, picked up the container, and went into the kitchen to warm everything up for him; he trailed behind with the other container and handed it to me.

I smiled at him, and he simply nodded. We brought the warm food to the table, and I served him first, then myself, and we continued to eat in silence.

"Uh, you should not wait for me. Have your dinner, and then go to bed. Sometimes I come home late," he explained, clearing his throat once more.