“There is,” he argues loudly from down the hallway. “Mine.”
Aditya chuckles softly beside me. The sound surprises me. It’s warm. Easy. “Lead the way,” he says to Neel.
I sigh dramatically and follow them both.
The hallway is narrow enough that all three of us almost bump into each other as Neel pushes open his bedroom door with unnecessary enthusiasm.
“This is my room,” he announces proudly. Aditya steps inside, immediately lowering his head slightly to avoid the ceiling fan chain hanging a little too low.
Neel’s room is… chaotic. Books stacked unevenly on the desk. Pencils scattered across the bed. Two comic posters taped crookedly onto the wall. Aditya surveys the entire room slowly. Then he nods. “Very impressive.”
Neel beams. “Thank you.”
“And what exactly makes this the good room?”
Neel points toward the window dramatically. “It has the best sunlight.”
Aditya glances at me over Neel’s head. I shrug. “He’s been saying that since he was four.”
“Well,” Aditya says thoughtfully, “he might be right.”
Neel looks very pleased with himself. “See, Didi?”
I roll my eyes. “Congratulations. You’ve recruited him.”
Aditya leans down slightly toward Neel. “Always good to build alliances early.” Neel nods solemnly like this is serious strategy.
I shake my head and gesture toward the next room. “The other room is mine.” Aditya steps inside more slowly this time. "Ours now," I whisper slightly as I meet his eyes.
My room is simpler. A wooden bed. A small bookshelf. A desk where I handle the shop accounts. The bed looks suddenly very small now that I’m seeing it with someone else standing here.
My brain chooses this exact moment to remind me of the obvious. We got married in court this morning. A completely practical, emotionless legal decision. But still—Married.
The word feels surreal in my head. Aditya places his bag down beside the wardrobe and glances around quietly. “You’ve kept this place well.” I shrug.
“We’ve managed.” There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just thoughtful. Then Neel announces loudly from the hallway,
“Didi, I’m hungry.” Of course he is. I glance toward the kitchen.
“I’ll make dinner.”
Aditya immediately straightens. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” I interrupt quickly. “It’s already started.”
He looks curious. “What are we having?”
I hesitate.
“Khichdi.” His expression doesn’t change. But I suddenly feel very defensive.
“I only know basic cooking,” I say quickly as I walk toward the kitchen. “And I have tiffin service for four days a week.” I sigh, "My father thought if he taught me how to cook, people will bind me in the kitchen because everyone thinks that's the whole purpose of a woman's life." I look at him and he hums.
Aditya follows me inside. The kitchen is comically tiny for him. It's just enough space for two people to stand without bumping into each other.
Neel climbs onto the chair near the small table while I stir the pot on the stove. “I need to add one more tiffin subscription tomorrow,” I say aloud while thinking through my routine. “For you.”
Aditya leans casually against the counter. “Actually…” I glance at him. “You should cancel yours too.”
