The End Of Us

Chapter 8

I went back to the living room and took a seat next to Navya.

"What's wrong, darling? You seem upset," she inquired, her voice laced with concern.

Harshad entered the room as well, taking a seat on the couch opposite us.

"Nothing," I responded, setting the plates on the table with a slight clatter.

"What have you done this time, Harshad?" Mukti asked, arching an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Mukti, what's your problem? You used to pick fights with me back in school for no reason, and you're still the same," Harshad retorted, defensively.

"Excuse me, you can't speak to my girlfriend like that," Abhimanyu interjected firmly.

"Please, let's not start another argument," Dhruv urged, sounding irritated.

"Guys, let's eat lunch and then go sightseeing," Cabir proposed.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'm bored sitting around," Mukti agreed.

"I think I'll stay back. I'm not feeling well," I sighed wearily.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?" Dhruv inquired, his concern palpable.

"I didn't get much sleep last night, and now I have a bad headache. I just need some rest," I explained, massaging my temple.

"I will stay here with you, Nandani," Navya declared.

"If Navya stays, so will I," Cabir added.

"No one needs to stay back. Thank you, Navya, but I'll be fine on my own. Don't worry," I reassured her with a smile.

"Are you sure, dear?" she pressed, her eyes filled with concern.

I nodded.

"It is 2:30 p.m. now; we will leave at three and return by eight," Dhruv said.

"Guys, let's have lunch now. "I am starving!" Mukti exclaimed.

Dhruv opened the tiffins, revealing pasta and noodles.

"It appears that the caretaker only knows how to cook pasta and noodles," Harshad commented, laughing.

"Not again. We ate pasta and noodles last night. I don't want to eat them again," Navya grumbled.

"I'm definitely eating it because I love it," I said, serving myself.

"I'm really hungry too. Pasta and noodles will do," Mukti agreed, serving herself.

As I ate, tears welled up in my eyes, remembering how Manik had cooked pasta for me during our trip to Ladakh ten years ago.

"Kids, what would you like for dinner? Manik's mother, inquired warmly.

"Pasta!" I exclaimed, my face lighting up with a bright smile.

"Mom, why don't you sit down? Your legs were hurting a lot earlier, weren't they? Let me make pasta for Nandani-I mean, for everyone," Manik pleaded.

"No, Manik, it's okay. I can manage, and Robert, the servant, is here to help me," Neyonika responded.

"Mom, I insist. I really want to cook," Manik pleaded.

"But my dear, you don't know how to cook," Neyonika said worriedly.

"Mom, I do know how to cook, at least a little. And Nandani will be here to help me, won't you, Nandani?" Manik asked, turning to me with a hopeful look.

"Of course, I would love to help you," I answered, my smile matching his.

"Alright then, if you need anything, just call me," Neyonika said.