18-06-2025, 02:15 AM
Monday Afternoon – Varnika’s Spark and a Subtle Stirring
The rain hadn’t arrived yet, but the skies had turned that dense pre-monsoon grey.
A faint, damp breeze drifted through the open balcony door of Flat 403, fluttering the ends of the sheer curtains like slow, unsure breaths.
Meghana was slicing some fruit absentmindedly in the kitchen, the knife moving more out of habit than purpose.
Her hair was tied up in a loose braid, a few strands falling over her cheek as she leaned forward, lost in thought.
Varnika was sprawled across the floor on a dhurrie mat, going through a folder of documents and trying to match them to an excel sheet open on her laptop.
But her eyes kept darting toward Meghana now and then, catching the occasional sigh or faraway expression.
“You look like someone who just turned off the music halfway through the best song,” Varnika said suddenly, not looking up from her papers.
Meghana blinked and glanced over. “What?”
“I’m talking about your face. You’ve been quiet since morning. Even the watermelon is scared.”
Meghana laughed softly and returned to slicing. “Just distracted.”
Varnika tilted her head. “Thinking about Abhi?”
That name landed gently—but precisely. Meghana’s knife paused for a moment.
Varnika sat up, eyes lighting with curiosity. “Actually… I had an idea.”
Meghana didn’t speak, but she was listening.
“I’ve got three places to visit this week—two college offices and one interview downtown. You’re working, and I hate auto rides with grumpy drivers. But Abhi works from home sometimes, right?”
Meghana gave a small nod.
Varnika’s smile widened. “Then why don’t we ask him to help me out a bit? He seemed nice. The silent, secretly sweet type. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Meghana tried to keep her face neutral, but her fingers had gone still on the chopping board.
“I mean, you did say he’s helped you before. So... fair game,” Varnika added, standing now and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt riding just slightly at the waist. “Plus, we should thank him again properly for Friday, even though that was… weird.”
Meghana turned, a soft blush rising despite herself. “You think he’ll come again? After that awkward dinner?”
Varnika grinned mischievously. “He came into the lion’s den once. He’ll survive again.”
The rain hadn’t arrived yet, but the skies had turned that dense pre-monsoon grey.
A faint, damp breeze drifted through the open balcony door of Flat 403, fluttering the ends of the sheer curtains like slow, unsure breaths.
Meghana was slicing some fruit absentmindedly in the kitchen, the knife moving more out of habit than purpose.
Her hair was tied up in a loose braid, a few strands falling over her cheek as she leaned forward, lost in thought.
Varnika was sprawled across the floor on a dhurrie mat, going through a folder of documents and trying to match them to an excel sheet open on her laptop.
But her eyes kept darting toward Meghana now and then, catching the occasional sigh or faraway expression.
“You look like someone who just turned off the music halfway through the best song,” Varnika said suddenly, not looking up from her papers.
Meghana blinked and glanced over. “What?”
“I’m talking about your face. You’ve been quiet since morning. Even the watermelon is scared.”
Meghana laughed softly and returned to slicing. “Just distracted.”
Varnika tilted her head. “Thinking about Abhi?”
That name landed gently—but precisely. Meghana’s knife paused for a moment.
Varnika sat up, eyes lighting with curiosity. “Actually… I had an idea.”
Meghana didn’t speak, but she was listening.
“I’ve got three places to visit this week—two college offices and one interview downtown. You’re working, and I hate auto rides with grumpy drivers. But Abhi works from home sometimes, right?”
Meghana gave a small nod.
Varnika’s smile widened. “Then why don’t we ask him to help me out a bit? He seemed nice. The silent, secretly sweet type. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Meghana tried to keep her face neutral, but her fingers had gone still on the chopping board.
“I mean, you did say he’s helped you before. So... fair game,” Varnika added, standing now and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt riding just slightly at the waist. “Plus, we should thank him again properly for Friday, even though that was… weird.”
Meghana turned, a soft blush rising despite herself. “You think he’ll come again? After that awkward dinner?”
Varnika grinned mischievously. “He came into the lion’s den once. He’ll survive again.”
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