“With Khalil, with this life. Is everything good, all stress aside?”
Her smile fell. “With Khalil?”
“You are with him, no?”
“Who told you?”
“Varun.” The smile remained on his mouth. As if he was genuinely happy about this. She looked away, unable to decide what to say.
He coughed, turning away from her, too. Silence returned to the car, but it was awkward this time, like the old days. A knock on her window made them startle. A man stood with two steel plates steaming with rajma over beds of rice.
Amaal pressed the button and accepted the plates, eyeing the waiter exchange raised brows and a smile with Samar.
“Hmm.” She passed his plate along, and they dug in. The taste of this rajma chawal was just as it had been then. And eating it fresh and steaming from the shop added that extra layer of relish. She did not see left or right, stuffing her mouth full like there was no tomorrow, drinking from the ice-cold matka glass of thick chaas tempered with salt, jeera and coriander. The taste of earth in the chaas made her want to keep drinking.
“Aah!” She sat back, wiping the chaas moustache and depositing the plate she had cleaned on the dashboard.
“Your appetite is a lot better than it used to be.” He picked up her spoon and stowed his own plate over hers, collecting all the utensils and stacking them.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing in doctor land?”
“Good.”
“Hmm.”
He glanced at her.
“Samar.”
“Amaal.”
“Khalil and I…”
“Just tell me if you are happy or no. I don’t want to know the details.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need to know them.”
“I just said I was happy.”
“And then you didn’t talk for a whole ten minutes.”
Her lips pressed together. The glass on her window was tapped again. She pressed the window down and passed their utensils out. Before she could, Samar leaned in and handed over the money. She saw his hand meet the waiter’s in a clap before he pulled back.
“Have you treated him, too?”
Samar shook his head.
“His family?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Samarrr!”
“Hmm?”
“Answer.”
