Echoes Of Destiny | Multicouple ✓

13. FRAGMENTS OF FRIENDSHIP

Avya

"Done!" I exclaimed, taking in the sweet smell of the rice kheer I just made.

I mean, I hope it's sweet.

Muskan, as always, was standing by my side, but it's been around a week since I started spending time in this kitchen, and saying I was thriving would be an exaggeration. However, at least I wasn't completely failing.

"You are hardly making any good food," my subconscious mocked.

I had tried the basics-dal tadka, jeera rice, aloo Gobi-and today was my attempt at rice kheer.

To say they were perfect would be overstated, in fact it's better if not stated at all.

I was a beginner c'mon.

But I was just happy to be doing something other than sulking in the dark basement.

Especially after the visit to Miss Mythila and the way she asked about my scars, I sure as hell couldn't be kept in a room.

But even though everyone almost ignored me, thanks to Tara Singhania, I could see people glancing at what I was doing, eyeing what I was making.

Muskan's mom, Meena, stayed true to her promise and taught me almost every basic. And since I had absolutely nothing to do, I had spent more time in the kitchen than in the basement for the past week.

"Muskan, here," I said, pouring the rice kheer into a bowl and handing her some to taste. "Taste it and tell me, how's it?" I asked eagerly.

"No, uh-uh," Muskan's face scrunched as if I had just asked her to give up her life savings. "I don't wanna die young," she whispered, but I heard her loud and clear.

Drama. I mean, yeah, last time I made raita, it was too salty, and the proportions were clearly out of whack, but I was learning.

"Muskan," Meena, her mom, scolded, as she took the bowl I gave her.

Muskan unwillingly tasted it, and Meena did too. I waited patiently, watching their reactions.

"Uhm, it's good," Meena said, and I smiled a bit. But Muskan was silent. "Muskan, it's good, right?" Meena asked her, giving her a stern look.

"Cough, yes, it's great," Muskan said, her face showing discomfort.

"Lying, are you?" I asked, looking between Muskan and her mom.

They were, so I took the bowl of rice kheer over to Nanda, the head chef. She was the only one who wasn't openly hostile to me, even if she was a little too candid with her words.

"Miss Nanda, will you?" I asked, handing her the bowl. Nanda wasn't the happy-go-lucky granny type. Though she looked the part, she had a no-nonsense attitude, which was what I needed right now.

"Oh, not again, girl," she groaned, but she took the bowl anyway, tasting it.

I saw her face scrunch in clear displeasure. "It tastes so bland. Do you have diabetes? Where is the sugar, girl?" she said, putting the bowl down with a thunk.

Great, I thought. At least she was honest. Nanda never sugar-coated anything.

"Here, let me show you how it's done," she said, grabbing a spoon and gesturing for me to follow her. She took out some sugar and started measuring it, explaining as she went along.

"And You don't just pour it in like you're dumping sand. You gotta do it bit by bit. Taste it as you go," she said, sprinkling sugar into the kheer and stirring. "And don't forget the cardamom for that extra flavor."