An Arranged Setup that Sparkled into a Love Story of Its Own.
»»---♡---««
'His nose is crooked!'
'I think he has some gray hair!'
'He looks too mature for his age!'
'Nah! He is seven years older than you!'
'One of his eyes seems smaller!'
'Don't you...
Do follow me buddies (ruhani_gupta ) so that you don't miss out on any important announcements.
Please Do Vote (The Star Icon⭐) and Comment dear ones. It motivates your author to write more.
Happy Reading!
***********
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Aditya's Pov
"Aditya pass me that. It's there." Mom pointed towards the kitchen counter, her other hand lightly resting on the wooden dining table.
"Ji." Clueless, I strolled towards the kitchen in the direction she pointed. Alas, I couldn't figure out what 'that' was.
Knives? Plates? Bowl? Fork? Pumpkin?
Damn.
I wandered aimlessly in the kitchen, my mind swirling with thoughts as I searched for whatever "that" was. Taking cautious steps toward her, empty-handed, I spoke hesitantly, keeping a good two-foot distance as if it were a protective barrier.
"Uh mom, what exactly do you want?." My voice tinged with uncertainty. Or was it fear? I couldn't fathom.
She shot me a sideway glance, her face morphed into a threatening scowl, "Hey Bhagwaan! That square-piece thing." She exclaimed, "Kya naam tha uska?" She mumbled in urgency, "Ja ab, leke aa. It's near the crockery stand." Her tone was sharp but softened by the concentration in her eyes as she focused on deftly removing coriander leaves from their stems.
Paving my way toward the kitchen, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the search spree for the mystery "square piece thing."
Much to my misfortune, even after minutes of relentless search, and overusing my brain cells, I still couldn't find the square thing.
Bracing myself for what felt like an impending storm, I approached my mother. My heart raced, and I could feel sweat beads forming on my forehead, making my hands clammy.
Bhagwaan, hai kaha re tu....
If history were to repeat itself, I knew exactly what would transpire next: deadly glares, murderous expressions, blatant scoldings followed by a nonstop and repeat telecast of all the mistakes I've ever committed in twenty-six years of my existence.
Nonetheless, honestly, most of the time I'm not at fault, because,
If Mom says to bring a red bucket, she would mean pink.
If she says to bring clothes from outside, then it could be the front yard, the backyard, the terrace, or the balcony—anything. And I would fail to comprehend what the hell "outside" means in her context.
![Love Unrushed! | ✓ [Under Editing]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/262286159-64-k833819.jpg)