15-06-2025, 03:02 AM
Scene: The Door Opens – And the Evening Changes
The door swung open.
Meghana’s breath caught—then faltered.
Not Abhi.
Not yet.
Instead, standing there, suitcase handle in one hand and a wide grin lighting up her entire face, was Varnika.
“Akka!” the younger woman beamed, breezing in with the kind of energy that didn’t wait for permission. “Surprise!”
Meghana blinked. “Varnika?”
“Yes, me! Who else do you know with this hair and these killer instincts?” Varnika twirled dramatically once she was inside, her long, dark hair catching the hallway light. She was dressed in soft linen pants and a pastel crop top, face glowing from travel and excitement. “Hyderabad just felt too far without a pitstop at my favorite sister’s house.”
“You’re not serious—what happened? You didn’t mention—”
“I just got the university’s confirmation this morning—two appointments this week, some stupid paperwork, and maybe a couple of interviews,” she said, dropping her bag with a thud. “I thought I’d stay here for a few days. You’re not secretly in Paris or anything, right?”
Meghana laughed lightly, masking the pang of a hundred shifted plans behind her eyes. “Of course not. Just… wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Well, now you are!” Varnika flopped onto the sofa and stretched like she owned the place. “God, I missed your cooking. Is that ghee I smell? Please tell me there’s rasam in that pot.”
Meghana stood frozen for a second after closing the door behind Varnika. Her sister had waltzed in like a breeze — all chatter and perfume and city energy. And now, this quiet apartment was suddenly full.
She glanced at the kitchen, where the half-finished dinner waited — the lentil stew still simmering, the rice nearly done, the candles she’d half-considered lighting resting unlit on the table.
She hadn’t said anything about Abhi yet. Not even his name.
Varnika was still talking — unpacking her small bag into the guest room, flopping onto the bed, shouting something about how humid the train was and how her charger had died halfway.
Meghana stood by the kitchen island, her mind tugging in too many directions.
The doorbell would ring soon.
She could already feel it — the familiar double chime from downstairs.
She glanced at the clock. 7:54.
A decision needed to be made.
She moved to the guest room and leaned against the doorframe. “Varnu?”
Varnika turned, holding up a kurti against her chest. “Do you think I’ve gained weight? This one’s tight.”
Meghana offered a faint smile. “You look the same to me. Listen—uh—just so you know… I’d invited someone over for dinner tonight.”
Varnika paused. “Someone?”
Meghana forced a casual shrug. “A guy from downstairs. He’s helped me a couple of times. Just thought I’d thank him with dinner.”
“Oh. Is he… cute?” Her tone was teasing, but the eyes were sharp.
Meghana gave a practiced laugh. “Not really your type. Anyway, I just didn’t want you to be surprised.”
Varnika gave a thoughtful look, then flopped back on the bed. “No problem. I’ll be the mysterious younger sister. Silent and charming.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Maybe I’ll eat in the room.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Meghana said quickly. “It’s nothing formal. Just a casual dinner.”
But her stomach was tight.
She returned to the kitchen, stirred the stew without looking at it. The scent that had once thrilled her now felt off-balance.
And then, the bell rang.
The door swung open.
Meghana’s breath caught—then faltered.
Not Abhi.
Not yet.
Instead, standing there, suitcase handle in one hand and a wide grin lighting up her entire face, was Varnika.
“Akka!” the younger woman beamed, breezing in with the kind of energy that didn’t wait for permission. “Surprise!”
Meghana blinked. “Varnika?”
“Yes, me! Who else do you know with this hair and these killer instincts?” Varnika twirled dramatically once she was inside, her long, dark hair catching the hallway light. She was dressed in soft linen pants and a pastel crop top, face glowing from travel and excitement. “Hyderabad just felt too far without a pitstop at my favorite sister’s house.”
“You’re not serious—what happened? You didn’t mention—”
“I just got the university’s confirmation this morning—two appointments this week, some stupid paperwork, and maybe a couple of interviews,” she said, dropping her bag with a thud. “I thought I’d stay here for a few days. You’re not secretly in Paris or anything, right?”
Meghana laughed lightly, masking the pang of a hundred shifted plans behind her eyes. “Of course not. Just… wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Well, now you are!” Varnika flopped onto the sofa and stretched like she owned the place. “God, I missed your cooking. Is that ghee I smell? Please tell me there’s rasam in that pot.”
Meghana stood frozen for a second after closing the door behind Varnika. Her sister had waltzed in like a breeze — all chatter and perfume and city energy. And now, this quiet apartment was suddenly full.
She glanced at the kitchen, where the half-finished dinner waited — the lentil stew still simmering, the rice nearly done, the candles she’d half-considered lighting resting unlit on the table.
She hadn’t said anything about Abhi yet. Not even his name.
Varnika was still talking — unpacking her small bag into the guest room, flopping onto the bed, shouting something about how humid the train was and how her charger had died halfway.
Meghana stood by the kitchen island, her mind tugging in too many directions.
The doorbell would ring soon.
She could already feel it — the familiar double chime from downstairs.
She glanced at the clock. 7:54.
A decision needed to be made.
She moved to the guest room and leaned against the doorframe. “Varnu?”
Varnika turned, holding up a kurti against her chest. “Do you think I’ve gained weight? This one’s tight.”
Meghana offered a faint smile. “You look the same to me. Listen—uh—just so you know… I’d invited someone over for dinner tonight.”
Varnika paused. “Someone?”
Meghana forced a casual shrug. “A guy from downstairs. He’s helped me a couple of times. Just thought I’d thank him with dinner.”
“Oh. Is he… cute?” Her tone was teasing, but the eyes were sharp.
Meghana gave a practiced laugh. “Not really your type. Anyway, I just didn’t want you to be surprised.”
Varnika gave a thoughtful look, then flopped back on the bed. “No problem. I’ll be the mysterious younger sister. Silent and charming.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Maybe I’ll eat in the room.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Meghana said quickly. “It’s nothing formal. Just a casual dinner.”
But her stomach was tight.
She returned to the kitchen, stirred the stew without looking at it. The scent that had once thrilled her now felt off-balance.
And then, the bell rang.
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