Under My Body

chapter twenty-five

                        It had been two days since I had last spoken to Asher. Two full days, and I was no closer to understanding what had happened in the kitchen with my mother. After that chaotic dinner, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off—something, my mother had no doubt had something to do with it. Asher had been... different. Distant. 

I'd spent the past two days trying not to dwell on it, focusing instead on taking my mother to all the places she'd wanted to visit. Places she hadn't seen in years. We went to the old market where she bargained for spices like a seasoned warrior, visited temples she loved, and even took a trip down to the beach where she picked up seashells, pointing out which ones reminded her of when she first came here with Appa years ago. Penny and Xavier tagged along, dragging us to trendy cafes and hidden spots they thought she'd enjoy. (Translate: Appa means Dad.)

She did, in her own way. But even in those light-hearted moments, my mind was always elsewhere.

No matter how hard I tried to push it away, I couldn't stop replaying that night. The almost-kiss. The way his fingers had brushed against my skin, the heat in his eyes, the way I had leaned into him, craving that connection. We were so close, so dangerously close, but then my mother had interrupted, and everything unraveled. I'd bolted, leaving Asher and her alone in the kitchen.

That was a dumb move that I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for doing.

I didn't have the courage to go back in, and I hated myself for it. My mother had been there, judging. Glaring. It was too much. When Asher finally emerged, his face was unreadable—stone-cold, even. He hadn't looked at me. Not once. He walked past me, stiff and silent, his jaw clenched like he was holding back something heavy. Something unsaid. And that's what left me feeling raw.

Before he left, I tried to talk to him, pulling him aside, desperate to know what had happened in that kitchen. But he gave me only a quick, distant side hug, muttering, "I'm fine." And just like that, he was gone.

The worst part? We didn't even have each other's numbers. How had I never noticed that? All this time, not once had we exchanged phone numbers. Wow. That made everything feel even more disconnected. Now, two days later, it still stung.

I guess we really do not know each other well after all.

As I sat at the airport with my mother, waiting for her flight, I was distracted, lost in my thoughts. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know. I turned to her, unable to hold back my question.

"Amma," I said, stopping her as she was about to pick up her bag to leave. "What did you say to Asher that night? He's been acting... different."

She pursed her lips in slight annoyance, her brows furrowing for a moment before smoothing out into a tight smile. "Only what I know is best for my chellam," she replied, her voice firm and motherly, as if that answer was supposed to satisfy me.

It didn't.

I stared at her, searching her face for more, but she simply patted my arm and continued picking up her bag, ending the conversation. "You take care of yourself, Malarvili. And please, I know you hate the idea of arranged marriage, but think about it for me, okay?"