🪷 𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐐 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇: Cause everyone deserves a sports romance.
Heer Thakur's life currently is all about one goal: "3 lakh rupees in three months."
Abhishek Sharma, the classic angry young man who insists everything goes according to his meticulous...
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3. Financial Crisis.
[A/N: Translations are available.]
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Finally. After weeks of eating bland hospital food and saving every extra rupee, I'd done it. I'd treated myself to the one thing that could turn any bad day into a good one: Biryani.
Clutching the warm parcel in my hands like it was a treasure chest, I felt my heart do a little happy dance. The scent of the spices seeped through the bag, teasing my senses. My mouth watered just thinking about the first bite.
I plopped down on the chair, a satisfied grin spreading across my face. "Aay haay," I muttered to myself, unable to contain my excitement. "Bas bhagwaan, agar biryani khane ke baad mujhe utha bhi liya, toh bhi chalega."
(God, even if I die after I am done eating this biryani then I will be okay with it.)
If I died after eating this biryani, I'd die happy.
"Pagal wagal ho gayi hai kya? And you didn't bring any for me?" Vartika pouted, leaning over my shoulder with a look of mock betrayal.
(Are you mad or something?)
I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to laugh at her dramatic expression. "Check the bag," I said, waving her off without looking up, my focus completely on the precious parcel in front of me.
Vartika snatched the bag, rummaging through it with a satisfied smile when she found her own box. "You're lucky, Heer. For a second, I thought our friendship was over."
I barely registered her words. My entire world had shrunk down to me and the biryani. "It's just you and me now," I whispered to the food, a little giddy as I opened the container. The rich aroma of the spices hit me all at once, and I swear, I almost fainted.
I took a deep breath, savoring the moment. It was the kind of smell that could make you weak in the knees-perfectly spiced rice, tender meat, the burst of flavours. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I chuckled at myself.
"Foodgasm," I murmured under my breath, grinning like a fool. "This is it. I'm done. Life's complete."
My hands trembled slightly as I picked up the first spoonful. The biryani was still steaming, the rice glistening in the dim light of the hospital break room. I closed my eyes and took that first bite, letting the flavors explode in my mouth.
