Echoes Of Destiny | Multicouple ✓

10. ECHOES OF CULINARY AND CURIOSITY

Avya

I entered the kitchen as I owned it.

I didn't but still.

With Muskan by my side, my steps purposeful but my nerves were on edge.

Every head turned in my direction, some faces familiar, others not so much. Malti was busy cooking up a something in the far corner, the tantalizing aroma of spices filling the air.

Biryani, butter chicken, chicken tikka masala, chicken curry, and tandoori chicken-and star, knows what else delicacies, the kitchen was a flurry of activity, a feast in preparation for the Rajputs' arrival at the Singhania mansion.

"Do you have a problem with the smell and sight?" Muskan asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No," I replied, my tone firm. While I had chosen to be vegetarian, it wasn't my place to impose my dietary choices on others. I had no issue with people enjoying non-vegetarian dishes-I just chose not to partake myself.

Muskan led me towards the far corner of the kitchen, where the cooking utensils gleamed in the soft light. It was a well-equipped space, every tool and appliance meticulously organized.

I had never stepped foot in a kitchen before, not even for a cup of coffee. Everything had always been served to me on a silver platter.

As I made my way through the bustling kitchen, I could feel the weight of curious gazes upon me. Few eyes widened at my arrival, I could clearly see the question in their eyes.

The unspoken question hung in the air-what was the eldest daughter-in-law of the Singhania family doing in the kitchen?

Cooking was turning out to be much more daunting than I had anticipated.

Muskan stood quietly by my side, watching my every move. Another elderly woman approached her, inquiring about my presence in the kitchen. Muskan explained the situation, and it was that kind lady, who insisted Muskan, to stand by, to help me.

Then why the fuck wasn't Muskan helping me, I glared at empty utensils.

I found myself struggling to even decide what to make, let alone how to make it.

My mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty, my hands fumbling with the empty utensils before me.

'You need to ask for help,' my subconscious chided, its voice laced with amusement. I couldn't help but feel as though even my own inner voice was mocking me.

After fifteen minutes of indecision, I finally mustered the courage to speak up.

The sound of metal against metal drawing my attention. The kitchen was a hive of activity, bustling with people chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and preparing dishes with practiced precision.

Muskan shot me a questioning look as I hesitated, my nerves getting the better of me.

"Uhm" I repeated, I wasn't generally a nervous person, but cooking was unknown territory.

Few heads turned in my direction, curiosity evident in their expressions. It was now or never.

"I... uhm... I don't know how to cook," I confessed, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks. "Can you teach me?"

Muskan raised an eyebrow at my admission, her expression a mixture of surprise and amusement.

The elderly woman beside me, who was busy preparing undoubtedly something delicious, let out a hearty laugh, her voice booming through the kitchen.