With Mangoes And Chocolates | ✓

33. Doesn't settle in.

It was so hard to evenly spread jam over bread. It was sticky and sweet and too tempting to stay patient enough. . .

"Jam bread?" Manasvi turned to find Kartik looking at her in kitchen.
"Yes, yes. You like it?"
"I like everything."

"Then tell me if it's fine," she handed him one and then waited for the remark.
"It's good enough, Manasvi. What could go wrong? It's not like you made the jam or something."

She nodded as the realisation hit her. "Yeah, you're kinda right. But it's a habit to question whatever I do in the kitchen. . .not exactly a chef, honestly," she stuffed the last bite into her mouth. "Fridge me bhindi hai. Use bhi dekho zara."

She went near the sink to wash her hands and raised her eyebrows at Kartik once she returned. "Checked?"
"Yes, looks nice."
"Namak?"

He shrugged. "How would I know? You didn't ask me to taste it."
Manasvi frowned, and then facepalmed herself. "When I said dekho, I didn't mean just open the fridge and see it. I meant see if it tastes fine, idiot."

It felt even funnier as she said it. It cracked her up. "Kartik, you're so cute."

The way he was staring dumbfounded at her. . .it had to be the funniest. "Just don't tell anyone."

She grinned ear to ear. "Okay. Nitya? I will tell her. She should know what trouble she's getting herself into."

"I don't think she's going to complain about it," he pushed back his specs. He did that a lot. "She loves my dumbness because she thinks it compensates for how smart I am. Her logic, not mine."

Manasvi was already in the process of making more jam-breads. "And you? What about you? Are you crazy for her just the way she is?"

"I'm not sure if I can ever match her level," Kartik said, hints of bitterness in his voice as if he didn't like whatever he was saying. She couldn't ignore it. "I mean, I like her, ofcourse, but she's more expressive than me. She's like a happy butterfly or something."

Happy butterfly?  Kartik using similes?

"It's okay, K, as long as you're willing to put efforts. . ."
"I don't like putting efforts. But in her case, it doesn't feel forced. I mean, she makes me feel, Manasvi. Feel stuff. You know, feel? Feel?"

She knew feel.

"I know. So like, she provokes emotions?"
"Exactly," he nodded as if it was the truest thing he had heard in a while. "And everything in this universe is relative, Manasvi. From motions to emotions."

She stopped licking the spoon as she let his words sink in. They were ironically poetic, something she wished to write down.

She could've just clapped for him or something but Arav came into picture. "You guys? Making lunch?"
"Nah. Just jam bread. You want some?"
He shook his head.

"Your kitchen slab is a little above the standardized height," he pointed out, drumming his fingers on the slab.
Manasvi bent a little to check the height. "Okay, architect sir. If you ever design a house, tell me. I'll love to visit."

Arav seemed pleased himself, "sure."
"And I haven't really thought of lunch," she shrugged. "Feeling a bit tired."

"Okay. I will do it," he said casually but it surprised her.
"You know how to cook?"

"So? It's a survival skill. Shouldn't everyone?"
It made her smile big. "What dishes do you know? Dal makhani?"

"Yes."
"Oh my God, Arav." She gasped dramatically. "That's awesome."
He smiled even wider. "Thanks?"