“About my family?”
"Yeah, I know nothing about them, it's unafir." He nods slightly.
“I was closer to my mother,” he says quietly. “She passed away four years ago.”
There is a small pause after that. “My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on many things,” he continues, glancing toward the oven as if watching the cake gives him something to focus on. “He believed I should care more about money and business.”
“And you preferred books.” I add for him.
He smiles faintly. “Exactly.”
“He thought that meant I wasn’t serious enough about life.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say immediately.
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“But we both loved my mother.” he looks lost in his thoughts, “So we tried to get along for her.”
I tilt my head slightly. “And did you?”
“Most of the time.” The oven timer suddenly rings. The sound makes both of us jump.
“Moment of truth,” he says.
We both lean toward the oven door. The cake looks… surprisingly good.
Not perfect. But definitely edible.
I gasp. “It worked.”
He grins like he expected nothing less. “Told you.”
When the cake cools enough, we cut two slightly uneven slices. He pulls out his phone.
“Photo evidence,” he says. “For Neel.”
We take a ridiculous picture holding the plate between us. There is still flour on my cheek. I only notice when he starts laughing again.
“What?” He gestures toward my face.
“There.”
I frown. “Where?”
He steps closer and brushes his thumb gently across my cheek. The touch is light. Brief. But the warmth it leaves behind lingers longer than it should.
“There,” he says quietly. I swallow.
“Thanks.” We sit down at the small table with the cake between us. It’s slightly crooked. A little messy. But when I take the first bite it’s warm and soft and ridiculously good.
Aditya watches me expectantly. “Well?” he asks.
I take another bite. Then I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“What?”
“This is actually very good.” He leans back in his chair looking deeply satisfied.
