Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
Mamta lowered her eyes first, pretending to check the saucepan as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
 
"You're becoming quite philosophical for an engineering student," she said with a gentle smile, carefully steering the conversation back toward safer ground.
 
Rohan's smile widened just a fraction.
 
"Maybe," he replied. "Or maybe I'm just talking to someone who makes me think a little more before I speak."
 
A faint blush warmed her cheeks again.
 
She busied herself with the herbs, hoping he hadn't noticed.
 
He had.
 
For a moment neither of them said anything.
 
The sauce simmered gently on the stove.
 
Outside, evening light filtered through the kitchen window, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.
 
Rohan finally broke the silence.
 
"I'm glad I came."
 
Mamta smiled.
 
"So am I."
 
The words slipped out before she had time to think.
 
She blinked, slightly embarrassed by her own honesty.
 
"I mean..."
 
She laughed quietly.
 
"...it's been a lovely evening."
 
"It has."
 
He tasted the sauce, then held out the wooden spoon.
 
"Would you?"
 
She hesitated.
 
"Taste it?"
 
"I need expert approval."
 
She accepted the spoon, sampled the sauce, and thought for a moment.
 
"It's very good."
 
"Very good?"
 
She nodded.
 
"I was expecting you to say excellent."
 
She laughed.
 
"I don't hand out compliments that easily."
 
"So there's room for improvement?"
 
"Always."
 
He smiled.
 
"I'll just have to cook for you again."
 
Mamta looked at him, amused.
 
"You've planned quite far ahead."
 
"I like having goals."
 
She shook her head, unable to suppress another smile.
 
"You're persistent."
 
"Only when I think something is worth the effort."
 
She looked at him for a long moment before quietly returning the spoon.
 
"I suppose persistence isn't always a bad quality."
 
Before either of them could say anything more, Neetu's voice floated in from the living room.
 
"Are you two making dinner or writing a cookbook?"
 
Mamta laughed first.
 
Rohan followed.
 
The spell was gently broken, but the warmth of those few quiet minutes in the kitchen stayed with both of them long after dinner was served.