Match Made in Heaven

furure housewife

f u t u r e
HOUSEWIFE

chapter one — ❛ here's your chai ❜
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APPARENTLY, IT IS KYDA'S job to serve the afternoon's tea for today's get together. This is the predicament that every ethnic girl avoids, solely because you just never know how much sugar and milk one consumes and whether it'll even turn out edible. But Kyda Rahman never followed an accurate measurement, so why would she care? After all, she wasn't going to drink the tea, therefore no harm would be done.

"Can't men fend for themselves? Why must we rotate this job?" She huffs, her chest heaving, as she sets the tray down on the kitchen counter. The tightness of her blouse did not help her either; the air just constricted her thoughts.

"Too bad, I would take over, but I'm pregnant," her sister playfully remarks as she rubs the swell of her stomach.

Not looking back, she heads towards the living room where the men are seated, chatting away amicably, not having a care in the world about the future noise complaints that Kyda's parents will receive from their neighbours.

All eyes were on her the moment the jewels from her bangles clinked against the tray's handles, and all she could do was take a deep breath before displaying her most polite smile.

"Thank you, beta," her uncles all collectively cheered, thus releasing the knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

Their conversation resumed as per usual, and simultaneously, her headache returned. However, that will only intensify when she attends to the women in the house.

"Ammi, here's your chai. I put extra sugar in yours as you've asked." Kyda places it right in front of her before going around their unnecessarily large dining table to repeat the same action for the rest of the guests.

"Kyda, listen, while you're at it, Abhishek and Azhar arrived just now, and they didn't have lunch yet. Do me a favour and set them up a plate, will you?" The words that come out of her mother's mouth echo in her ears before she even registers them.

Whipping her head back, she ignores the snickers coming from her cousins and her friends, she gapes before speaking, "Ammi, why me? Ask Jannat, she literally has a crush on Abhi."

"No, I do not!" She had the audacity to yelp.

Sending her a firm glare, she rolls her eyes, "Yes, you do!"

"Beta, she is ill. Don't tease her, let her rest. Now, listen to me and go."

For fuck's sake. Jannat always manages to get away from everything. Clearly being the youngest child in this household gives you no perks.

The urge to rip her hair off was eating her alive, but she had only gotten this fresh trim this morning. She couldn't just destroy her hairdresser's hard work just over a silly task. The problem wasn't that she didn't want to give the two men their food, but she knows how awkward she can be around her father's friends, especially when they were their sons and not her immediate family.

As she walked away she could hear their voices fade away but could still make out their words. Kyda knows it wouldn't be anything new to her knowledge because desi women loved talking about people when the said person isn't around.

"Maybe this will teach her how to be a good housewife."

"Yeah. At least her chai has improved."

"Kyda, when she wants, can be a good cook."

"She should get married soon. Pranavi, you should find someone for her now. She is only getting older."

"There are plenty of options too."

"Ji hann, Azhar is right there, marry her off with him."

She stopped dead in her tracks once hearing the last comment and their chain of laughter. A fierce blush appears across her cheeks but thank god for make-up. The dusky rose tint hid her actual flushed state. Blinking, she walks away, she knew they are joking and that her mother would never consider this proposition. Not ever once had Kyda and Azhar displayed any kind of relationship—friendship even, for them to suggest such a thing.

Shoving the thoughts away, she plates their food and heads straight to them. The quicker she was, the quicker she could lock herself in the bathroom and contemplate her life decisions.

She found them sitting around the table on the garden's patio and both men looked alike in their crispy suits. The only difference is that Abhishek sported a luminous smile whereas the other, he simply looked at him, occasionally nodding, through bored eyes.

"Sorry for the delay," She says, clearing her throat loud enough for them to hear.

Abhishek immediately reaches for his plate, ushering a thank you before diving straight in. But the real problem is Azhar Hossen. Kyda simply refuses to lock eyes with him. He has done nothing wrong, she knows, deep down she knows how idiotic and petty she is being, but she couldn't shake off that one comment.

From her peripheral view, she could see his hands twitch, itching to do the same as his companion did but something must've stopped him. They don't have the same established boundaries. Wishing she could just disappear, she sets Azhar's plate, and although she hears a soft thank you, she ignores it. Instead, she gently bows at both of them, feeling her earrings move forward with her weight before hurrying off.