Reeth was shivering with the cold; she could see it. Sanskriti showed the way to her sofa, placed the medicine and the drink on the coffee table and quickly went into her bedroom.
Reeth sat on the sofa, though uncomfortably when he first did, he later made it his home. Sanskriti opened her closet, and searched aggressively for that one garment, the thickest fur jacket she owned.
After she pulled it out, she hesitated to give her jacket to him. For the overthinker she is, she decided not to give it at the end. So, she climbed up a stool to pull a thick duvet. Blame it on her now wounded hand, she couldn't stretch it upwards to get that massy duvet.
Reeth could hear the little whimpering echoing from the bedroom, and he quickly went to the room as a thought of 'what might've happened to Sanskriti' struck him.
She was seen struggling to get the duvet out and reflexively, he went to help her. Being the tall man he is, the duvet was in his easiest reach even without the little stool Sanskriti stepped on.
The thought that she was struggling so hard to get him the duvet made him smile on the inside. As he was still in this thought and was taking the duvet out, his eyes laid on the petite girl under his chain, probably wrapped in his arms who was looking at him with mixed emotions
He couldn't help but place his hand on her head and caressed her hair while he took the duvet out. Sanskriti was flustered. There was bright hue of red flushed on her cheeks almost immediately, but she chose to ignore the butterflies she felt at that moment.
They moved back to the hall, and she threw the duvet at him. She made sure that the heater in the room is on and filled her kettle with water to heat up some.
Reeth was warming his hands and looked around the apartment. It was small, a simple one-bedroom unit with a single bedroom, a bathroom, kitchen and a hall. Unlike Sanskriti's house in Bangalore, this apartment had the warmth of a home. She carefully hung some art all around and placed a few plants at the corners.
Sanskriti loves watching the TV. So, there was a big TV at the lounge. The whole vibe of the home was very cozy with warm lighting and with a beige-white-brown palette co-ordinating in a nice blend and the plants gracing a hearty contrast.
They talked nothing. Reeth was busy looking around and Sanskriti was sipping on her affogato while pouring the hot water into a cup in which she had placed a chamomile tea bag. They looked like an old married couple who accommodated themselves to living with each other doing their respective chores, having dinner and sleeping together.
Sanskriti handed over the cup of tea and sat on the side sofa chair. She turned the TV on and sipped on her coffee. Reeth kept staring at her, but Sanskriti looked calm and unhinged as if he was invisible. He couldn't figure out what's on Sanskriti's mind at that moment.
Sanskriti was thinking nothing. She only thought of warming him up as he brought things for her in the cold. After a while, when Reeth was about to complete drinking his tea, she spoke...
"I think you should leave" she said, still staring at the TV
"Huh?" He was dumbfounded. "Huh...aah!" he understood and got up from the sofa. He was very hesitant to leave. "Actually... I'm hungry" he turned back, "It's past the dinner time at the dorms, can I have dinner here?"
Sanskriti furrowed in bewilderment. But she looked at the clock and saw that it was past eight. She is cold but not cold enough to leave the man to starve for the night in the cold.
"I haven't prepared anything" she said, signalling that he could have dinner before he goes
"No problem, I'll make the dinner tonight" Reeth became very excited and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and saw some veggies and eggs. He searched the shelves and found some packets of Ramen.
"Perfect!" he uttered in excitement
Sanskriti glanced at his excited face but turned back to the TV while he did his thing. She is confident in Reeth's cooking. With his gifted hands, he could never cook anything bad. She knew that he enjoys cooking, so she paid no heed.
While the flavours of the Ramen filled the air in the apartment, her stomach was grumbling in elation. Reeth placed the boiling pot of Ramen on her tiny dining table for two and fetched the necessary bowls, chopsticks and water.
"Sanskriti, dinner is rea-" he was calling her
"I'm coming." she hopped towards the dining table.
Reeth smiled with his lips unturned as he understood that she was waiting eagerly for him to finish cooking.
They sat down and served the ramen into their respective bowls without hesitation. It didn't feel awkward; there were no formalities. Eating together was like a regular to them. Sanskriti's roaring stomach was not cold to Reeth's affection like her heart was, so she devoured it.
Reeth does enjoy cooking, but he feels the most excited when he does it for Sanskriti. Sanskriti never experienced the warmth of a home cooked meal by either of her parents. The meals her helper made were like how a helper makes. There is something about our mom's cooking, isn't it? She makes the yummiest meals because she thinks of us while she cooks. She considers our tastes, our preferences, our spice tolerance while making her recipes. But a helper does it the way her family likes, not how Sanskriti likes. Sanskriti never complained as well. She was thankful enough for the meal she can eat at home.
Thus, when Reeth cooks, the warmth is felt. It feels family to her, her house feels home.
Reeth could see her delighted face whenever he cooks. It pleases his pleasure of cooking, making him want to cook more and feed her more delicious meals. Reeth stared at her while he ate his and smiled from ear to ear. Sanskriti's happiness is unhidden. She makes her cute sounds of contentment with every bite and her eyes wrinkle in excitement every time. He was skeptical whether she would show this happy face of hers today, but he was wrong. It's the same cheery face as always. She emptied her bowl in no time and sighed in fulfilment.
Reeth served more into her bowl after he saw her bowl empty, and Sanskriti didn't complain either. She was happy to eat everything and happier to be served. No one asks her to eat more or feeds her when she sulks. No one asks her if she has eaten or not. Cooking especially for her, is an act of love for Sanskriti which she can never deny. Not only a man, but a woman's passage of happiness is also through the stomach.
After they had their meal, they sat on the sofa for a while watching Netflix
"It's late, I'll leave" Reeth said standing up
"Uhm... isn't the dorm closed by now?" Sanskriti asked instinctively
"It is..." Reeth scratched his hair
"Then stay!"
Did he hear it right?
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Home cooked meals by mom >>>>>>>> anything in this world.
