UNSPOKEN BONDS

11. Amritha Srinivasan

© archanaj1308 2026. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

By the time Ammu reached Sengkang, the city had quieted into its softer version of night. The train ride back from Outram had been uneventful in the most comforting way possible. She had watched station names blur past while replaying the evening in fragments she wasn't ready to fully unpack yet.

Sam eating the chocolate croissant. His very serious expression while evaluating it. This is genuinely good.
This is one of those underrated gems of unseen Singapore, isn't it?

Her stupid smile afterward. The hug at Outram. His calm see you tomorrow. And that quiet certainty sitting between them now. When she entered the apartment, the house was silent. Jai and Leela had gone to sleep hours ago. She slipped off her footwear near the entrance, quietly padded to her room and shut the door gently behind her.

For a moment she simply stood there. Still. Then exhaled. A long one. As if her body had only now realized how emotionally exhausting the day had been. She changed into comfortable clothes, washed her face, tied her hair into a messy bun and sat on the edge of her bed. Her phone rested beside her. She stared at it for a moment.

Then picked it up.

Typed.

Ammu: Reached home safely. Hope you did too.

She stared at the message after sending it. Her heart responded instantly-warm, restless, embarrassingly aware of him. The reply came in less than a minute.

Sam: Reached home too. Safe.

Ammu smiled. Then another message appeared.

Sam: Sleep.

Her eyebrows lifted.

Ammu: That sounded like an instruction.

Three dots appeared.

Sam: It was.

She laughed softly into the quiet room.

Ammu: Goodnight, Sam.

Sam: Goodnight, Ammu.

That made her pause. He didn't always use her name over text. She read it once. Then twice. She read his message one more time before locking her phone and setting it aside. For once, her thoughts didn't spiral. She fell asleep almost immediately.

She woke before sunrise. No alarm. No panic. Her eyes simply opened and she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. For a few seconds she lay there staring at the ceiling. Then sat up. Today. The thought should've made her nervous. Oddly-it didn't. There was calm. Not because the conversation ahead was small.
But because her answer no longer felt uncertain.

She quietly got out of bed, brushed her teeth, washed her face and changed into comfortable home clothes before stepping into the kitchen. The house remained asleep. The early morning silence of Sengkang felt sacred. She switched on only the smaller kitchen lights. Soft yellow glows. No harsh brightness.

Then she began cooking. Not because anyone expected her to. Because doing something with her hands helped organize her thoughts. She prepared idli batter that had been resting overnight.

Steamed fresh idlis, made coconut chutney, vegetable upma, cut fruits, set yogurt bowls. Made masala chai concentrate for later. And then-she pulled out avocados.