60

Aryan stood in his studio, feeling refreshed after a long shower. He ran a towel through his damp hair as he scrolled through his phone, debating what to do with the rest of his day. Cooking. It had been a while since he properly made something, and after yesterday's trip, he was in the mood for a good homemade meal.

As he was adding groceries to his online cart, a thought hit him—he actually wanted to spend the day with his parents. The realization was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Ever since things had started getting better, he found himself missing them more than he thought he would. Without thinking too much about it, he tapped on his dad's contact and called him.

Rajeev picked up after two rings. "Aryan?"

"Hey, Dad," Aryan said, leaning back against the counter. "I'm free today. Do you and Mom want to come over?"

A brief pause. Then, Rajeev's voice softened with warmth. "Of course, beta. We'll be there in an hour."

Aryan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Cool, see you then."

Hanging up, he looked around his studio. It was a bit of a mess—not disastrous, but definitely not something his mom would approve of. He sighed and started tidying up, putting away scattered papers, wiping down the counters, and organizing the space.

Exactly an hour later, the doorbell rang. Aryan wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and made his way to the door, pulling it open.

Standing there were his parents—Meeta, dressed in a soft pastel kurti, looking slightly hesitant but smiling nonetheless, and Rajeev, his usual calm presence beside her.

Aryan stepped aside, nodding. "Come in."

Aryan set the plates on the table and gestured for his parents to sit. Meeta and Rajeev took their seats as he poured them some water, settling in across from them.

"So, how was London?" Rajeev asked, leaning back slightly.

Aryan nodded, a small smirk on his lips. "It was nice. We went to Harry Potter World first, then Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, all the usual stuff."

Rajeev chuckled. "Must've been nostalgic, huh?"

"A bit," Aryan admitted, stirring the curry he was making on the stove.

Meeta, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "And Tara?"

Aryan's hand paused for just a second before he resumed. "She... she was fine. It was good with her." His tone was casual, but there was something softer in the way he said it.

Meeta and Rajeev exchanged a glance but didn't press further. Instead, they just nodded, letting the conversation flow naturally.

As Aryan continued cooking, he frowned slightly, realizing the bharli vangi (stuffed eggplant curry) wasn't coming out the way he wanted. He glanced at the masala proportions, unsure what was off. Meeta noticed his hesitation, then looked at Rajeev as if asking, Should I step in?

Rajeev gave her a slight nod, and she got up, walking over. "Let me see," she said gently.

Aryan stepped aside, watching as his mother adjusted the spices, stirred the curry, and let it simmer properly. He observed her movements—the familiarity, the ease. It had been so long since she had done something like this for him.

When she was done, Meeta stepped back, glancing at him for approval. Aryan looked at the dish, then at her, and gave a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Mom."

She smiled back, a little emotional, but she masked it well.

When the food was finally ready, Aryan served it onto plates and took a look—it turned out perfect. He exhaled in satisfaction, feeling something settle in his chest.

The three of them ate together, the silence between bites surprisingly comfortable. Rajeev occasionally made small talk about work, Aryan added little comments, and Meeta listened quietly, slowly easing into this newfound dynamic with her son.

After a few minutes, Meeta hesitated, glancing at Aryan before finally speaking. "Can you serve one more plate?" she asked, sliding an empty one toward him.

Aryan frowned slightly. "For who?"

Meeta hesitated again, but then she took a deep breath. "If you're okay with it... I want to give this to Tara."

Aryan blinked, caught off guard. Even Rajeev looked impressed, a proud smile touching his lips.

Aryan took a moment, then sighed. "She's scared of you, Mom."

Rajeev leaned forward. "She needs to start loosening up to Meeta anyway. And this is a good first step."

Aryan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Alright."

Meeta smiled a little as Aryan served the food—two rotis, a generous portion of bharli vangi, and a side of rice. They carefully arranged the plate, and then Aryan and Meeta made their way to Tara's flat.

When they knocked, there was a pause, and then the door slowly opened. Tara stood there, looking slightly surprised, her eyes shifting between Aryan and Meeta.

"Y...yes?" she asked, hesitantly.

Aryan glanced at his mom before looking back at Tara. Meeta took a step forward, holding out the plate. "Beta, here you go. Lunch."

Tara froze for a second, completely caught off guard. "It's fine... I was... just about to make something," she mumbled.

Aryan immediately noticed the hesitation in her voice, the fear laced in her expression. His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn't let it show. Meeta noticed too, but she held herself together, keeping her expression neutral and warm.

"This is your lunch," Meeta said softly, pressing the plate into Tara's hands. "Have this."

Tara just stared at it for a moment before nodding slowly. "Thank you... aunty."

Aryan cleared his throat. "Well, we'll let you eat—"

Before he could finish, Rajeev suddenly appeared behind them. "Tara! How are you?" he asked with a warm smile.

Tara blinked, straightening up slightly. "I'm good, uncle."

Rajeev chuckled. "How was London? It's changed a lot. Very different from when I was last there. I don't know how you all managed a full day of sightseeing—my legs would've given up."

Tara let out a small, almost involuntary laugh. "It was tiring," she admitted.

Aryan watched as Rajeev kept the conversation light, giving Tara something to focus on besides her nerves. He appreciated it.

"Well, we'll let you eat," Aryan said, stepping back slightly.

Tara nodded, still looking a bit unsure but accepting the plate. "Thank you," she said again, glancing at Meeta, who gave her a small smile before turning away.

As they walked back, Meeta's expression faltered. Aryan noticed the way her hands clenched at her sides, the way her usually graceful composure seemed to waver.

Aryan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She'll warm up slowly, Mom. Relax."

Rajeev, who had been walking beside them, added, "We're leaving in a week, Aryan. Get them to warm up before that, please."

Aryan exhaled, nodding. "I'll try."

As they re-entered his studio, Meeta sat down on the couch, deep in thought. Rajeev patted her shoulder reassuringly. Aryan, meanwhile, glanced at his phone, wondering if Tara would actually eat the food or if it would sit untouched on her counter.

For now, all he could do was wait.

💜