All Strings Attached

Chapter Eleven

Dhushyanth

At the end of our conversation, Sita concedes and agrees to warm up the food for me so I can eat it after a shower.

I smell the mouthwatering pappuchaaru on my way to the dining hall, and see the maker seated at the table, scrolling on her phone.

"It smells really good," I compliment.

Sita looks up from her phone, and smiles. "I know. But the original was so much better," she says, "it's a pity you've never had it." She fills my plate with rice as soon as I sit down, stopping when I ask her to, before pouring the pappuchaaru into the rice and serving me some of the aloo fry on the side.

"Have you ever had pappuchaaru with curd rice?" She wonders, filling an empty glass with water for me.

I shake my head as I mix my food. "Does it taste good?"

Sita nods, returning the lids back to the dishes. "It tastes very good," she says, sitting on the chair with a leg tucked under her.

"I'll have some, after," I promise.

"I'll bring the curd," she says, attempting to stand up again, but I hold her elbow, stopping her.

"Why are you doing all of this?" I ask her. "Where's the maid?"

She raises a single eyebrow. "A maid?" She ridicules, "at this hour? Even she has a family to return to, it's late."

I notice the time is now 11. "Sorry," I murmur, letting her go. "Are you okay to be home by yourself?"

"Not when I expect to have company," she says from the kitchen, "no."

I bite down a smile that almost breaks out on my face. "Are you upset I wasn't home all of today?" I ask, when she comes back with a bowl of curd.

Sita looks away, rolling her eyes. "I'm not upset. Just- so much for an honest politician."

"Ouch," I joke, resting a palm on my chest. "That was harsh."

"I noticed the sofa in the living room upstairs is gone," she observes, meeting my gaze in a provocative staring competition.

"I didn't know you were attached to the sofa within a night," I shrug it off, focusing on my plate of food.

"Did you leave in the morning because I slept on the sofa?" She questions. "Is that why you were being a—" she clears her throat, holding back from presumably cussing at me, causing me to look up at her again.

"Being a?" I prod.

She looks away, rubbing her throat. "You don't want to hear it," she assures me.

"I'm asking for a reason," I retort, mimicking her tone.

"An unreasonable brat," she fills in, flashing me a sardonic smile.

I hide a smile behind my glass of water, drinking a mouthful before setting it down. "Mhm?" I subtly call her crap.

"Mhm," she sticks to her act.

"I don't want you sleeping on the sofa," I answer her question, anyway. "I'd rather you wake me up and tell me to move."

She taps her fingers on the surface of the dining table, seemingly invested in creating table music. She clears her throat softly. "I will."

"I can take you shopping for furniture tomorrow," I offer.

Sita throws me a glance from the corner of her eyes, her big, round orbs, barely amused by the proposal. "I don't want to go shopping with you."