ℂ𝕆ℂ𝕂𝕋𝔸𝕀𝕃𝕊 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ ℂ𝕌ℙ𝕀𝔻

𝟴𝟬: 𝗩𝗶𝘅𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗦𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲

>>>>–––– 💘 ––––<<<<

Ananya woke up with a yawn that could have rivalled a bored cat.

No flutter in her chest. No sparkle in her eyes. Not even a tiny hint of ooh, it's my birthday! excitement.

Just... meh.

She sighed, rolled out of bed, and padded lazily towards the kitchen.

It was a normal morning routine — or at least, it was supposed to be — until she stopped dead in the doorway, eyes widening.

Avi was in there.

Wearing a black undershirt. An apron thrown over it. Cooking.
Yes, cooking.

The smell of something warm and buttery filled the air, and the faint sizzle of a pan added to the surrealness of the scene. But her brain didn't focus on the food — oh no. It zoomed in on him.

Messy, sweat-damp hair. Forearms flexing as he flipped something in the pan. That slightly crumpled, "I've been up too early for this" look on his face.

Ananya gulped before she could stop herself.

As if on cue, without turning around, Avi spoke in that annoyingly calm tone of his.

Paathu mudichachu na, coffee yedhuthuko. Kovilku poganum

(If you're done staring, take your coffee. We need to go to the temple.)

Her jaw dropped.

Na-Na onnum paakala-

(I— I wasn't staring)

she blurted. 

I was just—

Just what?

he asked, finally glancing over his shoulder with one raised eyebrow.

She clicked her tongue and sighed irritated. She then spoke,

Neenga onnum en kudha kovil kulam vara vendam. Enaku thaniya poi palakam iruku

(You don't have to come to the temple with me, you know. I'm used to going alone.)

he turned around and faced her, his voice smooth but with an edge as he asked, 

Usual, Kovil'ku poi yenna pannuvae?

(When you go to the temple, what do you usually do?)

Ananya crossed her arms. 

Yenna pannuven? Saami kuptu, archana pannitu, oru orama amaidhiya utkarndhurupen.

(What will I do? Offer prayers, do an archana, then sit quietly in a corner.)

Avi turned back to his pan. 

Indha varusham, adha na solra kovil la pannu.

(This year, do that in the temple I'm telling you to.)

Ungala pakathula vechikitu?

( With you beside me?)

she asked in a deadpan.

That wasn't a request, madam. Naan dhan ungala innki kutitu poren. So go, get ready please)

(That wasn't a request, madam. I'm taking you myself. So go get ready, please.)

Her eyes narrowed, but she spun around with another sharp click of her tongue and stomped off. She'd rather wrestle with a stubborn blouse hook than admit she was curious.