“Nothing,” he mumbled, putting his phone on the table, face down.
“Bullshit,” she said easily, watching him carefully.
“Maasi-“
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she cut him off, turning around to chop an onion for some bizarre reason. “But Kabir,” she turned to face him, pointing the knife at him, “if anyone hurts you, you come to me okay?”
“Are you going to stab them?” he teased even as emotion swarmed through him.
“You’re one of mine,” she said quietly. “Have been since the day you walked in to Il Cuore for Christmas. Whoever put that look in your eyes, I won’t just stab them, I’ll burn their fucking world down.”
Almost prophetically, the smell of burning toast filled the kitchen.
“Shit!” Kabir swore as he lunged to turn off the toaster. But it was too late. He dumped the toast in the trash as Kanak dropped the mysterious onions into her eggshell eggs. A wave of affection swamped him and Kabir walked over to where she was and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
“Love you too, Rock On,” she reached back to ruffle his hair affectionately. “It’s good to have you home. Don’t leave it so long next time, okay?”
Kabir swallowed hard. He didn’t know how to tell her or any of them he had no intentions of coming back to Mumbai after this. The more distance he put between this city and himself, the better his life would be.
“Let go of my woman.” Aakash Thakkar’s voice preceded him into the kitchen.
“You don’t own me Thakkar,” Kanak shouted back.
“Probably the only thing he doesn’t own,” Kabir muttered, stepping away from the stove with a laugh.
Aakash walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Cooking, love?” he asked carefully, looking around for the source of the burning smell.
“Jeez, Kan Kan.” Karam wandered in behind him, looking around grumpily. “It’s too early for you to try and kill us all.”
“I’m not cooking for any of you idiots,” she told him. “This is for Kabir.”
“Rest in peace, my boy.” Karam slapped him on the back. “It was nice knowing you.”
“Don’t piss off the woman with the knife,” Aakash advised, rooting through the fridge for something to drink. He straightened, triumphantly clutching a carton of orange juice. “Juice anyone?”
“Me please,” Kabir said. He could wash the eggs down with it, he thought. He sensed the air shift a second later and he knew she’d entered the kitchen even before she spoke.
“Morning everyone.” Tani’s voice was still husky with sleep. He forced himself to take a sip of his juice, his gaze fixed on the condensation on his glass. He’d count the beads of water endlessly before he looked at her.
“Morning baby girl.” Aakash held up the juice. “Want some?”
“No, thank you. I need coffee.” She stepped deeper into the room, stopping somewhere behind Kabir’s shoulder. His skin prickled almost like it was physically reacting to her proximity. “What’s burning?” Tani asked.
Kanak growled, as she turned from the stove to dump the eggs into a plate.
“What are we doing for breakfast?” Aakash interjected hastily.
“Well, I’m not cooking for all of you,” Kanak announced.
“Praise the lord,” Karam muttered.
Kanak glowered at them mutinously as she placed the eggs in front of Kabir. No bread. No sauce. No nothing. Not even cutlery. He realised the entire room was watching him with fascination, waiting to see what he’d do next.
Kabir smiled up at Kanak, caught her hand and kissed it, murmured a thank you and then stuck his fingers into the half raw, half burnt scrambled eggs and scooped some into his mouth.
“Best eggs ever,” he announced, his eyes watering a little as he forced them down his throat.
