INSEPARABLE HEARTS 2

Chapter 133

Happy Reading

The soft glow of morning filtered in through the tall living room windows of the Mehra residence. Snow hadn’t fallen — this was India, after all — but there was a distinct winter chill in the air. The Christmas tree in the corner sparkled with fairy lights and homemade ornaments, gifts stacked beneath it, half of them still with crooked bows from Angad’s last-minute wrapping job.

Angad was the first to stir. Barefoot, hoodie on, he padded downstairs with bed hair, expecting a quiet morning with Abeer and Sumitra like the last few days.

Instead, the moment he turned the corner into the hallway, a familiar deep voice echoed from the kitchen.

“How can I miss this Christmas? This is the first time we’re celebrating it together!”

Andy Malhotra stood there in full dad-mode — sleeves rolled up, hair slicked back from travel, grinning like a child on holiday. He’d just arrived from his business trip, suitcase by the door, already rummaging through the spice rack.

Angad blinked. “Dad?! I thought your flight was tonight!”

Andy smirked. “Had them bump me to an earlier one. What, you thought I’d miss our first full-family Christmas?”

From behind him, Abeer emerged, eyes still groggy.

“Wait… Dad?” he mumbled, then broke into a slow grin. “You madman. You actually showed up.”

Andy grabbed both boys and pulled them into a group hug, ruffling Angad’s hair, patting Abeer’s back hard enough to knock the sleep out of him.

“Come on, boys. We’ve got breakfast to burn.”

____________

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a beautiful disaster.

Andy had declared that he’d be cooking Christmas breakfast, roping both boys into helping. Abeer was stuck whisking eggs while Angad handled toast duty and tried to sneak cheese into everything.

Sumitra, however, stood at the kitchen entrance with a towel in one hand and disbelief on her face.

“You three in my kitchen?” she gasped. “Lord, take the stove.”

Andy looked over his shoulder, ladle in hand. “Darling, consider this your day off. It’s your Christmas too.”

Sumitra narrowed her eyes. “You said that last time and nearly set the blender on fire.”

“That was Angad’s fault!” Andy pointed.

“Hey!” Angad barked. “It was experimental frothy hot chocolate!”

Abeer tried to hold in his laughter. “Which exploded.”

Despite the chaos, the smell of butter, masala omelettes, and brewing chai filled the house with warmth. It was messy, loud, and entirely imperfect — but perfect in its own way.

Andy passed a burnt piece of toast to Sumitra with the proudest grin.

“Happy Christmas, Sumi.”

She took it, lips twitching. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Abeer stole a glance at them — the domesticity of it all. He’d never grown up with that kind of image in his mind: a dad at the stove, a mom with flour on her cheek, a Elder brother making jokes. But now, sitting at the counter, he realized — it was becoming real.