Always Is Not Forever (Breaking Myself - Part II)

BONUS CHAPTER 2

[ A L I N A ' S P O V ]

I would never call him by any of those names his masi preferred. For me, he was just Kabir, or Mr. Oberoi, or baby, or shona, or star but not ohji, app, and huh.

I couldn't even utter those words in my mind. How could he think I could say them aloud in the air?

Shaking my head at his challenge, I twisted and rolled the dough, pouring my anger into it, smashing it hard, however, a pair of hand wrapped my arms, a chin was dropped on my shoulder, a chest touched my back.

"What?" I snarled.

"It is Sunday," He commented, helping me with the rolling. "Why are you cooking? Sunday is for me to cook."

"Maids were going to do," I mumbled, ignoring the tingling feel of his fingers twisted between mine, both of our hands stuck in the dough. "But they are preparing for lunch. Masi is coming."

He hummed. "Why do you forget I don't want you to stand in such a time?" I was about to speak when he continued, "I am aware pregnancy doesn't make you useless but what if I want my wife to take care of herself?" As the dough was done and my hands were washed, he turned me around, grinning. "Let's cook together."

"Kabir-"

"Yes, let's cook together for our kids." He pecked my forehead and moved to smash the potatoes, humming a tune and bobbing his head. Cracking my smile at his habit, I turned on the stove but he grabbed my hand and swirled around the kitchen in circles.

"What are you doing?" I asked in unbelievable tone.

"Cooking and dancing with my wife. I am very happy today."

"And why is that Mr. Oberoi?" I bit my lower lip, engaging my eyes with his whilst the maids carried on their work. The whole house had become accustomed to our display of affection, and in some manner, it kept our house happy and buzzing with peace. We couldn't just keep our hands off each other.

"Because it is Sunday. No work." He laughed under his breath. "And finally, after months I get to bed you. Years may pass but you won't stop surprising me with your actions. I love the things you do with your tongue and hands."

"Kabir!" Chuckling, I untangled my arms off him. "Staff." But not affected by their chuckles, he winked and moved to the material and helped me with the breakfast as I rolled the paranthas and he cooked them in the stove. "Why you help me?"

"Why you help me?" He pointed a gaze at me. "Remember once you said it is such a stereotype that only girls cook and how I learned cooking because of that. Technically, we don't help each other, we have a family breakfast on Sunday."

"But," I tried to argue. "You work all week, attend meetings, check through things and Sunday is your holiday whilst I-"

"Handle them." He nodded to the dining room where Kiara and Adyant were talking with Rahul, Nisha, and dad. "You write, handle your NGO, check through dad's reports every day, help them with their homework and demands I can never see, and you also read, cook, handle this whole house. You deserve a holiday, baby." He bent to kiss my forehead. "But since we both are too stubborn, we work on Sunday too but this work-"

"Doesn't feel like work."

He shook his head. "Never with you." And he swiped the flour on my cheek.

"Kabir!" We both laughed, preparing the rest of the breakfast and serving it on the table, and before, I could intervene, Adyant grabbed one of the paranthas and placed it on his plate.

He was foody just like his father.

"Mamma, feed," Kiara demanded, flying her hands to sit on my lap.

"You spoil them," Dad commented, cutting his fruits. "Both of them."