Layers of Us

Chapter 31: Moments In Kitchen

As Tripura descended the grand staircase, her saree flowing gracefully with each step, the soft hum of conversation in the Kapoor haveli quieted momentarily.

Dadi, seated regally on the large upholstered armchair, spotted her and called out warmly, “Bahu, ithe aa, mere kol baith."

Tripura smiled, her nerves tucked neatly behind her composed exterior, and walked over to sit beside Dadi.

Dadi lovingly patted her head, her eyes brimming with affection. “Bahu, aaj na, tu is ghar vich pehli vaar aayi hain. Taan is karke aaj teri pehli rasoi hovegi," she announced, her tone light but firm.

Tripura’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, caught off guard. “Pehli rasoi, Dadi?” she asked hesitantly, her tone polite but tinged with uncertainty.

Dadi nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Haan, bahu. Pehli rasoi. Tainu na, Golu diyan saariyan maan pasand cheezan bananiyan pain gian." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “Pati da pyaar paun da raah usde pet vichon langhda hai. Te mainu poora yakeen hai ke meri bahu duniya da sab ton vadhia khana banaugi."

Tripura nodded, managing a gracious smile even as her heart began racing. Cooking for Ram and the entire family on her first day wasn’t something she had anticipated, but she knew there was no backing out.

Sensing her agreement, Dadi clapped her hands softly and called for one of the butlers. “Bansi, bahu nu kitchen le jaa te usnu das ke saara samaan kitthe rakhya hai."

Tripura rose gracefully, following the butler as he led her towards the sprawling kitchen.

She glanced back briefly at Ram, who stood leaning against the doorway to the living room, observing everything silently.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and Tripura caught the worried crease on his forehead.

Ram felt a pang of guilt as he watched her leave. He knew how new all of this was for her — the family traditions, the expectations, the constant pressure to fit into the Kapoor household.

He wanted to step in, to ease her burden, but tradition was tradition, and even he couldn’t interfere without upsetting Dadi.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Pehli rasoi,” he muttered under his breath. “Of course Dadi had to bring this up today.”

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Tripura, meanwhile, was escorted into the expansive kitchen. Gleaming marble countertops stretched across the room, and every appliance looked state - of - the - art. Despite its modernity, the kitchen exuded warmth, with copper utensils hanging neatly and jars of spices lined up meticulously.

The butler gestured to the cabinets and drawers, explaining where everything was kept, and then excused himself, leaving Tripura alone to gather her thoughts.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she took a deep breath, silently summoning the confidence she needed. “You can do this, Tripura,” she whispered to herself, her hands already reaching for the spices and ingredients she hoped would make Ram’s favorite dishes.

Back in the living room, Ram was still standing by the doorway, lost in thought. He hated feeling helpless, but there was nothing he could do now except hope that Tripura would handle this challenge with the same poise and determination he had already come to admire in her.

“She’ll be fine,” he told himself, though the worry in his eyes said otherwise.

Suddenly, something struck Ram's mind, and a charming, flirty smile replaced his earlier worry.