She handed him a plate filled with his favorite dishes, the aroma wafting through the air and tantalizing his senses.
"Eat," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "You must be starving."
He took the plate, their fingers touching briefly as he did. A spark of electricity ran through him, and he met her gaze.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low and husky.
As he began to eat, she sat beside him, watching him with a tender smile.
As he savored the flavors, he turned to her and asked, "Have you eaten?"
She shook her head, her eyes locked on his. "No, I wasn't hungry."
He paused, a forkful of food midway to his mouth. "You should eat," he said, his brow furrowing in concern.
Without waiting for her response, he gently took her hand and guided a bite of food to her lips. Their eyes met as she parted her lips, accepting the offering.
The intimacy of the moment struck him like a lightning bolt. Feeding her by hand, feeling her soft skin and watching her chew, was overwhelmingly tender.
Their gazes held, the air thickening with unspoken emotions. Time stood still as they shared this quiet, vulnerable moment.
"Ramlal's been cooking exceptionally well lately," he remarked, taking another bite.
She fidgeted, her eyes darting around before meeting his. "I-I made it," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes widened in surprise. "You?"
She nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Y-yes. I wanted to surprise you."
The fork slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the plate. "You cooked all this?"
She nodded again, her nervous smile captivating him.
"Why?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.
She took a deep breath before speaking, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I wanted to do something special for you. To show you I care. You've been working so hard, and I know how much you love these dishes..."
He listened, entranced by her sincerity and thoughtfulness.
"I have to admit," she said, her voice trembling, "when you threw the plate at me during our first rasoi, I felt devastated. But then I realized... the ritual was incomplete."
His eyes narrowed, memories flooding back. "You mean the ritual of sharing food?"
She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Yes. I researched and found out that in our tradition, sharing food seals the bond. And also the first rasoi was also incomplete and when you threw the plate, it was like... it wasn't finished."
He watched, mesmerized, as she continued.
"So, the next day, I cooked for you again. I wanted to complete the ritual, to seal our bond."
His mind reeled, understanding washing over him. "That's why you insisted me"
She smiled softly. "Yes. I wanted to make it right. To show you that I'm committed to this... to us."
His heart swelled, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. No one had ever gone to such lengths to understand and connect with him.
"Why?" he asked again, this time his voice barely above a whisper.
Her response was simple yet profound. "Because I feel a deep connection with you. And I want to explore it, to see where it takes us."
Flashback
Ekansh's face twisted in anger as he hurled the plate at her feet. The ceramic shattered, fragments scattering across the floor.
Humiliated and hurt, she bent down to gather the pieces.
The old maid, Dadi, rushed to her side, helping her collect the shards.
"Beti, this is not good," Dadi whispered, her eyes filled with concern. "The ritual is incomplete. It's a sign of misfortune."
She paused, hands trembling as she held a broken piece.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Dadi's wrinkled hands grasped hers. "Sharing food seals the bond. But now, it's broken. Like the plate."
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as Ekansh stormed out, leaving her amidst the shattered remains.
Dadi's words echoed in her mind: "Incomplete ritual, incomplete bond. Misfortune will follow."
She spent the entire day lost in thought, Dadi's words echoing in her mind. The weight of the incomplete ritual settled heavy on her heart.
As dusk fell, she wandered to the garden, seeking solace under the stars. The same stars that had witnessed their unfinished ritual.
"Why did he react like that?" she wondered, replaying their encounter.
Was it her fault? Did she misinterpret the signs?
The questions swirled, but no answers came.
As night deepened, she returned to her quarters, her mind still racing.
Suddenly, a realization struck her: she couldn't change the past, but she could shape the future.
Determined, she rose from bed and began planning.
"I'll cook for him again," she resolved. "Complete the ritual, and seal our bond."
With newfound purpose, she drifted off to sleep, visions of tomorrow's menu dancing in her dreams.
The next morning, she woke up before dawn, determination burning within her. She made her way to the kitchen, where Ramlal was already preparing breakfast.
"Please, Ramlal, let me cook for him today," she requested, her eyes shining with resolve.
Ramlal raised an eyebrow. "But miss, Ekansh sir was very clearâ"
"I know," she interrupted gently. "But this is important to me. Please."
Ramlal hesitated, then nodded. "As you wish, miss."
With Ramlal's guidance, she expertly prepared Ekansh's favorite breakfast dishes. The aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering spices filled the air.
The next morning, Ekansh entered the dining room, expecting Ramlal's usual culinary delights. Instead, he was met with an unfamiliar yet tantalizing aroma.
"Good morning," he said, taking his seat.
Ramlal poured his tea, and Ekansh lifted the lid off the serving dishes.
The spread before him was impressive â fluffy omelets, crispy parathas, and steaming hot idlis.
"Ramlal's outdone himself," Ekansh thought, digging in.
Unbeknownst to him, she watched from the doorway, her heart racing with anticipation.
Had she done enough? Would he notice?
As Ekansh savored each bite, his expression transformed from pleasure to surprise.
"This is... exceptional," he said to Ramlal. "You've outdone yourself!"
Ramlal smiled discreetly, aware of the truth.
Ekansh remained oblivious, enjoying his meal.
She slipped away, unnoticed, a quiet smile on her face.