19-07-2025, 01:27 AM
Monday Evening – A Quiet Dinner with Priya Didi
Ravi walked into 205 around 7:15 PM.
The flat was quiet, dimly lit with the soft glow from the kitchen lights.
The clatter of a ladle against steel drifted in from inside.
He paused, looked toward the kitchen, and smiled to himself.
There she was.
Priya stood near the stove, wearing a casual cotton kurti and comfortable bottoms,
Her hair loosely tied up, a few tendrils falling near her cheek.
No jewellery tonight.
No attempt to impress.
And yet, she looked like poetry had taken human form and decided to stir the dal gently, lost in thought.
Her back to him, one bare heel slightly lifted as she stood half on her toes to reach for something in the cabinet.
He didn’t announce his arrival.
He didn’t need to. He just watched. Silently.
After a few seconds, she sensed him there.
She turned.
“Hey,” she said, softly. Not cold. But not warm either.
He smiled. “Hey, Didi.”
She gave a small nod, and turned off the stove. “Dinner's ready. I just finished cooking.”
“Smells amazing,” he said, walking in, trying to keep his tone casual.
But his eyes still lingered, on the elegant line of her neck, the soft curve of her waist,
The effortless way she moved in her own space.
No pretenses. No performance. Just her.
And that was enough to make his chest ache.
They sat down together.
The table was simple, rice, dal, a sabzi, and a little bowl of curd.
No theatrics.
Just care.
- o -
Ravi walked into 205 around 7:15 PM.
The flat was quiet, dimly lit with the soft glow from the kitchen lights.
The clatter of a ladle against steel drifted in from inside.
He paused, looked toward the kitchen, and smiled to himself.
There she was.
Priya stood near the stove, wearing a casual cotton kurti and comfortable bottoms,
Her hair loosely tied up, a few tendrils falling near her cheek.
No jewellery tonight.
No attempt to impress.
And yet, she looked like poetry had taken human form and decided to stir the dal gently, lost in thought.
Her back to him, one bare heel slightly lifted as she stood half on her toes to reach for something in the cabinet.
He didn’t announce his arrival.
He didn’t need to. He just watched. Silently.
After a few seconds, she sensed him there.
She turned.
“Hey,” she said, softly. Not cold. But not warm either.
He smiled. “Hey, Didi.”
She gave a small nod, and turned off the stove. “Dinner's ready. I just finished cooking.”
“Smells amazing,” he said, walking in, trying to keep his tone casual.
But his eyes still lingered, on the elegant line of her neck, the soft curve of her waist,
The effortless way she moved in her own space.
No pretenses. No performance. Just her.
And that was enough to make his chest ache.
They sat down together.
The table was simple, rice, dal, a sabzi, and a little bowl of curd.
No theatrics.
Just care.
- o -
.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)