Notes of Love

hearts unbroken

Manik stepped out of the cab, his heart racing as he looked up at the familiar gates of his home. The one place where everything felt real, grounded, and full of warmth. The streets of New York had felt cold, despite the hustle and energy, but home... home was different. Home meant comfort. Home meant family.

He couldn't hold back the grin that stretched across his face as he made his way toward the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. For the past year, he had been living in a world far removed from this, a world where everything felt distant, like he was living someone else's life. But now, as the door swung open and he stepped inside, everything felt as it should. The smells, the sounds, the warmth it was all here, waiting for him.

The moment he stepped into the living room, Nyeonka appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up in surprise before softening into sheer joy. "Manik!" she gasped, her arms immediately reaching out to embrace him.

"You've become so thin, Manik," she said, pulling back slightly to examine him. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and relief as she took in the sight of her son, looking a little older, a little more mature, but still her boy.

Manik smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been four years, Ma. You know how it is."

Samir, who had been seated on the couch, stood up with a grin. "You could have informed us, Manik," he said, his voice both amused and mildly scolding. "I would have come to pick you up from the airport."

Manik shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his father's eyes. "I broke my phone," he said nonchalantly, holding up the cracked, barely-functional device. "Couldn't get a new one until recently."

Nyeonka's eyes widened in understanding. "So that's why we never heard from you! The poor thing," she said, her tone softening. "But why didn't you get a new one sooner?" she added, her voice now tinged with motherly concern.

Manik hesitated for a moment, but then simply shrugged again, not wanting to get into it. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to contact them, it was just that the overwhelming demands of his training and his focus on settling into the business had made it slip down his list of priorities. But now, in the comfort of their home, it all seemed irrelevant. "Doesn't matter now," he said, trying to push the conversation forward. "I'm here now."

Nyeonka smiled warmly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "Good. Now go change, I've made food for you. You're looking too thin, Manik." Her voice softened with a mother's tenderness, the concern evident in her eyes.

"Thanks, Ma," Manik said with a small, grateful smile. "I'll be right back."

As he disappeared upstairs to shower and change, he took a moment to let the familiar feeling wash over him. The scent of home, his mother's cooking, the faint smell of the old furniture, the warmth of the space. This was where he belonged.

After a quick shower, he dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, making sure he looked presentable, though all he could think about was the one person he hadn't seen yet. The person who had occupied his thoughts all years long.

He made his way downstairs, drawn by the smell of food. The dinner table was set, and Nyeonka was already bustling around, placing dishes on the table.

Manik sat down, feeling the familiar weight of the family dinner around him, his mother's voice as she scolded Samir for sneaking chocolate, the lighthearted banter, the clatter of plates, the warmth of the room.

"Manik," Nyeonka said, her voice suddenly more serious. "Samir, I'm telling you, if you eat any sweets I've made for Manik, I will tell Nandini. Only she knows how to handle you." Her tone was playful but firm.