The next morning, Aarav woke up earlier than usual. He swept the veranda, dusted the furniture, and even polished the old wooden table that usually stood untouched. He darted from the kitchen to the living room, arranging things as if a festival was about to begin.
His grandmother, seated comfortably on her armchair with her knitting basket, watched him with growing amusement. Her wrinkled lips curled into a smile as her eyes followed his restless movements.
“Aarav,” she finally spoke, her voice calm but curious, “who is coming?”
Aarav froze mid-step, holding a cloth in his hand. For a moment he avoided her gaze, then muttered, “Well… a friend of mine.”
Her brows arched knowingly. “Is it Vivan?”
He quickly shook his head. “N… no.”
That was all she needed. A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes as she leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Oh, I see. So it’s a girl.”
Aarav’s ears turned red instantly. He nodded faintly, still refusing to meet her eyes.
“Aarav,” she called softly.
Reluctantly, he turned towards her, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor. His grandmother raised a finger and beckoned him closer. Aarav stepped hesitantly, and before he could guess her intent, she reached out and tugged his ear playfully.
“Ow, Grandma! It hurts!” he yelped, wincing but not pulling away.
Her laughter filled the room, warm and teasing. “My little boy has grown so much,” she chuckled, her eyes shining with affection.
Aarav rubbed his ear, his face still flushed, but deep inside, a tiny smile crept onto his lips.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Oh, she’s here,” Aarav muttered under his breath, his heart skipping a beat as he rushed to the door. He pulled it open, and there stood Ishika. Her eyes looked a little weary, the telltale sign of a sleepless night spent in nervous anticipation of this very meeting.
“You came,” Aarav said softly, almost with relief, before stepping aside to usher her in.
Ishika’s gaze instantly shifted to the elderly woman sitting in the armchair. Taking a deep breath, she bowed politely. “Hello… how are you, Grandma?” she asked, her tone laced with hesitation.
Grandma’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with kindness. “Oh, no need to be so formal, child. Come here.” She gestured warmly with her hand.
Ishika, nervous but obedient, stepped closer. To her surprise, Grandma reached out and cupped her cheeks with both hands, studying her face with tender curiosity.
“Oh my, you are such a pretty girl,” she exclaimed.
Ishika’s cheeks instantly turned crimson, and she looked down shyly, her heart thudding in her chest. Aarav, standing nearby, rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to be busy with nothing at all.
After a while, the three of them settled into the living room. Aarav sat at the edge of the sofa, still flustered, while Ishika carefully placed her hands on her lap, trying her best to appear calm. Grandma, meanwhile, observed the two young ones with a smile that held both amusement and affection.
Aarav couldn’t handle the growing embarrassment anymore. His ears were burning red, and with a sudden jolt, he stood up. “I’m… going to prepare some tea,” he muttered quickly before escaping into the kitchen.
As soon as he disappeared, Grandma leaned a little closer to Ishika, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know,” she said in a soft but playful tone, “I was truly surprised when I realized he was bringing a girl home.”
“Why?” Ishika asked, blinking curiously.
“Because Aarav never brings anyone here—except that little troublemaker,” Grandma replied with a chuckle.
Ishika let out a small laugh of her own. She didn’t need to guess; she knew Grandma was talking about Vivan.
The two continued chatting comfortably, Ishika’s nervousness slowly melting away in the warmth of Grandma’s presence.
After a while, Aarav returned balancing a tray of tea and snacks. He carefully placed it on the table, though his slightly flushed face betrayed the fact that he knew exactly what the two must have been talking about in his absence.
Soon, the living room filled with the fragrance of fresh tea and soft laughter. Grandma began sharing little tales from Aarav’s childhood—mischiefs, innocent mistakes, and his stubborn habits. Aarav groaned, burying his face in his hands every few minutes. “Grandma, please! Not that one!”
But Ishika only laughed harder, her eyes sparkling with delight. “No, Grandma, tell me more,” she encouraged, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.
As the two youngsters exchanged shy glances over the rims of their teacups, Grandma quietly observed them. A gentle smile played on her lips. She felt her heart lighten with happiness—her Aarav had found someone who made him laugh, someone who could care for him as much as she did.
After a while they all gathered around the dinning table for the lunch.
The aroma of freshly made dal and warm rotis filled Aarav’s cozy dining room. Ishika sat across from him, trying her best to hide her nervousness as she took a careful bite of the potato sabzi. Aarav’s grandmother watched her with a warm, assessing smile, while Aarav himself bustled around the table, making sure everything was just right. Still, his gaze kept flicking to Ishika, worry etched faintly across his face—what if she didn’t like the food?
Ishika’s eyes widened after another bite. “Wow, Aarav… this is incredible! Seriously, you made all of this?”
Aarav’s ears turned pink, and he tried to sound casual. “Oh, it’s just simple home food. Dadi taught me a few things. She’s the real chef.”
His grandmother chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “He’s being modest, beta. He practically runs the kitchen when I’m not feeling well. He makes the best rotis—perfectly round and soft. No one believes a boy his age can cook like this.”
Ishika’s surprise was genuine. “I had no idea! Most guys I know can barely boil water. My mom still makes me call her if I want to toast bread! And this dal… and the sabzi… it’s just like my Nani makes!”
Aarav’s pride peeked through his blush. “Really? I’m glad you like it. I usually just experiment with whatever we have.”
Grandma patted his hand fondly before turning her gaze back to Ishika, a knowing smile on her face. “You know, Ishika, any girl who marries this boy will be truly, truly lucky. He’s a good son, a good grandson, and he can cook like a dream. She’ll never have to worry about an empty stomach! My Aarav will make sure of that.”
Aarav, who had just taken a sip of water, choked slightly, his face flaming crimson. He coughed, shooting his grandmother a pleading look. “Dadi! What are you saying? Please!”
Ishika’s own face mirrored his reaction, warmth creeping up her neck and across her cheeks. She stared down at her plate, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on the ceramic, letting out a small, embarrassed giggle she quickly stifled.
“Um… that’s very kind of you to say, Dadi,” she murmured softly.
Grandma waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the display. “What? It’s true! A good cook is a blessing. Some girls look for money, some for looks, but I say, look for a boy who can make a good meal! You’ll always be happy.”
Aarav wiped his mouth with his napkin, still bright red. “Dadi… can we just… talk about something else? Ishika, do you want more dal? Or maybe some curd?”
Ishika shook her head shyly, still avoiding his gaze, a small embarrassed smile playing on her lips. Aarav’s grandmother just chuckled softly, taking a slow, satisfied bite of her roti, clearly pleased with the little chaos she had caused.
