Wilted Petals

Chapter 17: Our Treaty of Paris

"You know exactly how to woo me, Manish," I text, as I trot my way over to his apartment. I can feel it already. The warm spices of Manish's Rajasthani food enticing my taste buds while the rich quality of the food slowly dragging me into a coma was something I wouldn't trade for a million dollars.

Not to mention my chest hurting from all the humorous conversations that we have and my cheeks stinging from all the smiling. Everything just seems like something from a good TV show that you keep on revisiting just because it gets you going when things get rough.

"I do, don't I? Don't worry, it'll only be the best that I can bring. I'll see you in a bit," he texts back, as my feet clack against the ground leading up to his door. I drop the phone back into my pocket and head up to the door. As soon as I ring the doorbell, my stomach lets out a low, furious growl that would cause all the deer in a 50 mile radius to run for their lives.

It doesn't take long for the possibility of my desires to be fulfilled when the door swings open. Instead of being greeted by Manish's cozy smile and toasty brown eyes, I'm greeted by the curious look of Isha along with her suitcase sized eye bags. A slight smile curves at her full lips when she sees me, and she moves aside so that I can come inside. "Come in, Jaya," she greets, as I try to return an equivalent smile back to her.

She closes the door behind her to preserve the toastiness of the house. Almost immediately, I hear the pattering of little feet lead their way into the room. My eyes dart to a little Nishant standing there, slightly curious as to who this mysterious lady is standing in his uncle's kitchen.

Immediately, the smile on my face breaks out even wider, as Isha herself lets out a slightly amused chuckle. "Nishant, yeh kaun hai?" (who is this?) Nishant contemplates his answer for two minutes, and looks at me from all angles like my brother inspecting his biryani for any whole elaichi cloves.

After a long examination, several of his little teeth pop out in a tiny smile and he squeaks out, "Jaya."

I feel like my cheeks are going to rip apart from how much I'm smiling, as Isha gives her son a little nod. "Right, that's Jaya aunty. Jaya aunty ko 'hello' bolo," (Say hello to Jaya Aunty) she instructs, and he waddles over to me to give me a proper greeting.

I expect him to squeak out a hello, but instead, his body latches itself onto my legs and hugs me tight. "Hi," he excitedly squeals, as I explode into a fit of giggles. Even Isha herself can't contain her laughter, as I lean down to reciprocate the hug.

"Hi, Nishant," I greet him, as he looks back at Isha. Isha inches forward, with all the amusement glimmering in her eyes.

"Mumma, I go play now," he announces, as Isha gives him the Indian mom nod.

"Theek hai, beta," she affirms, as he scrambles his way off to one of Manish's bedrooms to play with his toys. Isha's eyes dart right back to me, as she bursts into another fit of giggles. I can't help but join her, as I can feel Nishant's enthusiasm infect me like some kind of contagious virus. "He really likes you, huh?"

I shrug, as Isha tucks a wave of hair behind her ear. "I guess. Not sure why, though."

Isha's eyes glimmer with a small sense of admiration, but also with a look of love that's a hundred times greater. "Nishant has always been very extroverted and loving. Puneet, my husband, was the same way. He loved everyone and just had the biggest heart ever. Nishant inherited that from him, for sure."

The smile on my face wilts a little bit from the mention of her late husband. A small part of me hurts for Isha because the thought of being a widow so young and with a young son to take care of is not an easy job at all. "Manish told me what happened. I'm so sorry."