Chapter 7: Tiffins and Tension

A couple of days later, after making breakfast, he was going out again.

Still said he’d bring back lunch for me.

He said it with his usual gruffness, but I caught him glancing at the fridge, making sure there were enough snacks for me. He mumbled something about the traffic and slammed the door shut, keys jangling as always.

I wanted to say I could just order something, but he didn’t give me a chance—just left after speaking.

At noon I ate some snacks, then got bored waiting, so I decided to play a game.

The flat was quiet, sunlight pouring through the curtains. The only sound was the distant honking of autos from the main road. I decided to log in and pass the time.

As soon as I logged in, I got a bunch of team invites. I picked my roommate’s.

Unexpectedly, after I joined, she pulled in our college’s senior.

The senior is a good guy, always looking out for us, but I can tell he’s interested in me.

Normally I avoid him, making it clear I’m not interested, but today I ran into him again.

"I’ve never played a game with Ritu before."

The senior smiled and turned on his mic, and my roommate started the game right away.

His voice was polite, but I felt a twinge of discomfort, hoping he wouldn’t start flirting again. I shot my roommate a private message, but the game had already started.

The senior is pretty good, and after he got a triple kill, my roommate and I praised him.

"Triple kill, senior, you’re awesome."

The flat door clicked open, and just as I finished speaking, Kabir walked in carrying a tiffin box. We made eye contact.

He was back earlier than I expected, with a tired look on his face, the aroma of hot sabzi and roti wafting from the tiffin. I felt a sudden, inexplicable guilt, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong.

On the phone, the senior was still modestly saying it was nothing, then his clear voice came through, "Ritu, come get the blue buff."

I saw Kabir’s face darken, his eyebrows raised as he put the tiffin in front of me.

He banged the steel dabba down on the table, the clang echoing like a warning bell. My spoon paused mid-air.

I spoke into the mic, "No need," and quickly muted it.

"You’re back."

He sneered, "Obviously."

His tone was sharp, almost challenging. He set the tiffin down a little too hard, making the steel clang on the table.

I smiled awkwardly, but he suddenly came closer and asked, "Arrey, Ritu, are you in a relationship?"

It was so sudden, and I could sense the warning in his tone.

His eyes narrowed, and I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks. My throat went dry as I stammered a reply.

I shook my head in a panic, not wanting him to misunderstand.

"I’m just playing with my roommate and a senior, all friends."

He seemed relieved, reached out and ruffled my hair, warning me fiercely, "You’d better not be. If you are, I’ll tell your brother."

His fingers lingered for a second, just like Bhaiya used to do before my board exams, but this time it sent a shiver down my spine.

My heart beat wildly. After he went upstairs, my senior and roommate asked why I wasn’t talking.

I inexplicably lowered my head and smiled, turned on the mic and told them I wasn’t playing anymore.

I think... maybe he cares about me a little.

The thought stayed with me long after, even as the afternoon sun turned golden and the sound of distant temple bells drifted in. And as the temple bells faded, I realised—I wasn’t just another ‘good girl’ in Kabir’s house. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see me too.