“Are you sure none for you?” She spooned some soup and blew on it, readying herself for a taste. Blue eyes raised to him over the spoon, eyebrows cocking. “Hmm?”
Samar felt his mouth stretching. “Hmm.”
But he gripped her wrist, and pulled the spoon to his mouth to take a taste.
“Hey!” She widened her eyes. “I was checking for salt.”
“It’s nice.”
She still went and took a taste, and turned out, the salt was low. As she seasoned her soup and carried the bowl in one hand and her plate of cheese toasts in the other, Samar grabbed a glass of water for her and followed her to the dining table.
“Wanna try the cheese toast dipped in soup?” She sat down, picking up a triangle with melted cheese. She dipped it into her soup and swirled.
Samar shook his head.
“Come on.” She held it out. He craned his neck and took a bite.
“Tastes like pizza.”
“Mmmm…” she soaked the remaining toast into her soup and bit into it. Her eyes fell closed. “It’s the best.”
“Does food make you happy?”
Her eyes popped open. “Who does it not make happy?” She chewed. “Back in London, ordering out was a regular thing for my friends when I was in school. Their parents worked. My parents worked too. But Indian mindset, right? Eating out is not what you do regularly. So whenever we ordered out, I used to get so excited. The moment that buzzer rang, it would be Christmas. The anticipation of good food is always better than actually eating it. And eating it is awesome anyway.”
“Eat before it gets cold,” he pointed to the food in front of her, sitting back and observing.
“I am not great company when I am having this,” she pointed to the soup, drinking it.
“Why?”
“Because I see nothing but the soup and do nothing but eat.”
She didn’t even look at him, busy devouring.
“Eat,” he said. “I will be forced to look at you quietly.”
That got her eyes to his. “Did you just crack a joke?”
He smirked.
Her food called out to her so loudly that she snarled at him and went back. And Samar sat through her dinner, not at all forced to look at her enjoying her meal quietly.
“Aaah…” she sat back, her bowl wiped clean and the plate empty.
“Should I get more?”
“Was that a joke?”
“No,” he deadpanned.
Amaal shook her head. “The rest for breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” His mouth twitched, however much he tried to hold it.
“Soup for breakfast with pepper opens all sinuses. I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“I was thinking of making upma for breakfast tomorrow.”
