Shivika One Shots

#1 His favorite chef

< < < < < <

•   His favorite chef    •

> > > > > >

This morning was not going as he had planned. Shivay had barely touched his breakfast and he was already late for office. He stared at the aloo Puri in his plate. The oil dripping from the puri. Shivay stared and stared and stared, before he called out to Annika.

“Yes Shivay! I’m coming!” She screamed from the kitchen. Shivay closed his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line as he heard the sound of boxes shifting and spoons falling.

Annika waltzed out of the kitchen, a polka-dotted apron around her neck. Her hands were glistening with oil, “Yes Mr. Saddu Singh Oberoi.”

Saddu Singh Oberoi.

Shivay didn’t care for the names anymore, didn’t care to hate them. She was so fond of calling him like that, that he didn’t mind. That shine in her eyes, when she used those nicknames, he’d let her keep worse names for it.

“Annika. This puri is unbelievable,” he picked up the Puri by its edges, showing her the oil dripping down.

“Unbelievable? What can’t you believe in it? It’s a round puri Shivay, not a math problem.”

“Math problems I get. But this? The whole house can feed off this much oil,” he said in disbelief.

“You don’t have a wife who is crazy for jewellery. Where will we use all the money you earn every day?” She folded her hands to her chest.

“Besides, this is cooked in olive oil,” she grinned proudly.

As if that was reason enough for him, “Oh, Oh Olive oil. Yes, that makes everything better.”

Annika smiled, quite not getting his sarcasm, “See, I told you. Your wife’s the best.”

“Yes, my wife is the best. No fighting that. But this Puri – my stomach, not happening!” Shivay got up walking towards the kitchen to fetch something un-cooked, preferably un-oily.

“Arey! I thought you were okay with it.”

“Well, I can’t eat this Annika. It’s too unhealthy. If you want to eat it, I can’t stop you but- ahah not me.”

“Ick. It is made in olive oil Shivay. It doesn’t even smell like a Puri does,” she said, stopping him.

“Exactly,” he said, “No puri should be tortured like this.”

“But you said you liked olive oil? Last month you even said you wanted me to replace sunflower with olive?”

Shivay gently held her shoulders, “Not for Puris Annika, never for puris. You make all your crazy upturned dishes like you always make it.”

“Okay,” she smiled at his shimmering blue eyes.
His hands didn’t leave her shoulders, they slid on her arms, holding onto her palms. He bought them closer to his lips and planted a kiss on her hand.

She stared at his eyes, his pink white face, breathing again.

“I'll be- I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she escaped his hold, stirring to the kitchen.

“Annika!” he called out, smiling, “Come back.”

But she didn’t reply. She came back about five minutes later.

“I thought you were getting late for office,” a slight blush still inched on her cheek.

“I’m the boss Annika.”

She raised his eyebrows. Her egoistic fool of a husband. She adored him.

“That’s good then,” she said, replacing his plate with another plate of puris.

“What’s this?” Shivay asked incredulous, like he couldn’t believe they were back on the same thing again.

“Puris,” she said.

“I can see that but,” before he could complete, Annika pulled the chair beside him, and plucked a piece of the Puri, “Just one bite. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”

She bargained like a child. But Shivay opened his mouth and she placed the morsel after dipping it in the aloo gravy.

Shivay was ready. Whatever bomb was about to explode in his stomach, he was ready. He knew it when he married Annika for the second, third, fourth time. The first being a whole trouble of a thing. But his mouth didn’t explode.

Instead, the Puri crunched against his jaw, taste bursting it, “Mmm, that’s – so tasty.”

Annika smiled. She used the normal oil and used a lot of tissues to get rid of the extra oil from his puris in a matter of five fast minutes. Seeing the savored smile on his face, it was all worth the sweat, “I told you, you’re wife’s the best.”

He had another bite, his eyes staring at her palm again, retracing his lips, “I never ever doubted that statement.”

> • > • >

I hope you liked this one! The next one is called nightmares and it is not half as sweet as this one. One down, eight to go!

[ Update schedule is : One chapter or Two (sometimes) a week. ]