One Day At A Time

Epilogue Two

June 2012
A (shockingly) sunny afternoon.
Some big house
Some unusual street name
Some confusing postcode
London.

The tantalising aroma of cinnamon and vanilla swirled inside the large kitchen, teasing the nostrils of the children playing outside in the garden, promising them the treat they all loved to devour at any time of the day. The kids rushed into the kitchen, which was the largest room in the house and had been one of the biggest positives when Arnav and Khushi had come in for their first viewing years ago. It had been love at first sight for them. The walls to the tall ceiling met the rich dark oakwood floor beneath them, and the eggshell blue painted walls broken by four large windows overlooked a large walled back garden. It was a pretty old-fashioned garden with a giant swing, a slide and various summer blooms and herbs planted by Khushi in hanging baskets and terracotta tubs.

Emma stood at the kitchen island, slicing fruit for the kids, who were now seated at a small breakfast table near the large windows. An eight-year-old sat in front of her on the island, busy licking the last traces of chocolate on the beater and mixing bowl while feeding some of it to her dress. The mass of soft curly shoulder-length hair was pulled back, yet some tendrils of silky spirals had come loose. Her eyes were big—almost too big for her small, heart-shaped face—and hazel.

"Shaarvi, the cupcakes will be done in ten minutes. Do you want to run upstairs quickly and ask Mama if I should serve snacks to all the kids?" Emma asked her gently and smiled, looking at her mouth smeared with chocolate. "I would like you to clean up before you go, though."

Groaning for being disturbed from what seemed to be her preferred method of meditation, Shaarvi jumped off the island and walked towards the door but changed her mind and took a detour towards the dining table where the rest of the children were seated.

"Siddy, you did five laps, not seven, my friend! I have been counting!" Neel frowned, sitting next to Siddharth who was munching on the dry fruits from the bowl before him.

"My dada doesn't lie!" Gayatri spoke defiantly. "I am seven years old and can count. I counted seven laps." She lied with shocking confidence while staring at Neel with fiery eyes. She had inherited her mother's temper, which flared the moment the world stopped behaving according to her fancy. Besides, at her age, her elder brother Sidhharth was the epitome of perfection and could do no wrong in her eyes.

"Gayatri—" Neel chuckled, "—can you even spell seven?"

"S - E -V - E- N" Shaarvi incised in her strong English accent, her eyes sparkling in the dying sunlight filtering into the room through the sunroof. "Stop teasing her, Neel Da. She is my best friend."

Neel's gaze fell on Shaarvi's chocolate-painted mouth and laughed. "Okay. Maybe I messed up the counting, Shaaru." He conceded, pulling a tissue from the tissue box and wiping off the chocolate traces on her face. "Now that's better." He said with a smile.

Dealing with younger kids didn't come easy at his age, but Neel was a natural. He had been assigned to supervise the kids that afternoon until the elders decided to take over. He sipped on this glass of water, trying hard to ignore the tiny wave of irritation that coursed through him remembering the argument with his father that morning. With his cast-iron expression brooking no argument, Akash had ordered him to shelve his cycling plan with his school friends in favour of his plan to be at the Chauhans' house for the weekend. A raw emotion clutched his heart as he remembered his friend and his life in Singapore.

"Can we play football outside tomorrow, Neel Da?" Shaarvi's voice broke through his thoughts. "Pappy said it is going to be sunny all day."

"Why not!" He tickled Shaarvi's chin, and she laughed.