Notes of Love

a home to build

The day was finally here. After weeks of planning, organizing, and purchasing, Manik and Nandini's new apartment was starting to look like theirs. It was no longer just an empty shell of rooms and walls, but a home, one they were building together, piece by piece. The couple had divided their tasks for the day, and while Manik was in the kitchen, carefully unpacking boxes and setting up the gas stove, Nandini was in the living room and balcony, putting her personal touch on things.

Manik moved around the kitchen with precision, placing the gas stove on the countertop, adjusting the cupboard doors to make sure they closed just right, and unpacking the utensils and crockery. His hands worked efficiently, as though he was already used to doing all this—handling the practical aspects of setting up a home. The smell of fresh paint in the air was still faint, mixing with the scent of the wood from the new furniture they had just placed in the living room. The sofa set was finally in place, the center table polished and gleaming under the overhead lights.

As he wiped his hands on a towel and walked out into the living room, his eyes landed on Nandini in the balcony. She had her sleeves rolled up, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and her hands were covered in mud. It seemed like she had gotten completely involved in placing the pots of plants around the balcony railing. She hummed softly to herself as she arranged the little green pots of basil, rosemary, and succulents, her favorite plants on the edge of the railing. The sunlight still hung in the sky, casting a warm glow on her face, her skin glowing as she worked. The balcony already looked like a little garden, a sanctuary they could both escape to once they were settled.

Her movements were graceful despite the mess on her hands. There was a calmness in the way she worked, each plant finding its perfect place. The serenity of it all was a stark contrast to the busy energy of setting up a house, but Nandini was loving every moment. She had always dreamed of having a space of her own, one she could personalize, one where she could make it feel like a reflection of herself. And this was it. Their home.

Manik leaned against the doorframe of the living room, watching her with a small smile. He couldn't help but admire the way she effortlessly blended both work and joy, always managing to make the most mundane tasks feel meaningful. But there was one thing that was impossible to ignore—the dirt on her hands.

"Manik!" she called, her voice breaking through his reverie.

"Haa jana, wait for a second," Manik called back from the kitchen, still setting up the utensils in the drawers. He quickly finished what he was doing and made his way toward the living room. As he walked over, he noticed her hands were covered in mud, making him chuckle. "What are you doing, Nandini?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

"I was placing the pots on the balcony," she said, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "But now my hands are all covered in dirt."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, instead grabbing the phone from her hand.

"Can you just check that for me?" she asked, looking at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. 

Manik glanced at the phone and read the text aloud, "'Meeting at 12 PM tomorrow.'"

Nandini's face scrunched in irritation, and she let out a small groan. "Seriously? They couldn't have waited a little longer before planning a meeting? I've been running around all day setting things up here!"

Manik laughed at her exasperation, shaking his head. "You know how it is. Work never waits," he said, sliding the phone back into her hand.

Nandini groaned again but then sighed, shaking her head. "I swear, my office always has the worst timing," she muttered, looking down at her dirty hands.