Not A Simple Engineer Boy! | ✓

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Scrollstck- Suganthi Lakshminarayanan

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"How can you cook like this!" Krithika exclaimed as she savored her favorite Vatha Kolumbu with rice and Appalam. "We women are trained in the art of suffering—I mean, cooking—since childhood, and I still despise every minute of it. And you? You're not even Tamilian! How do you know all this wizardry?"

It had been ages since she'd had a proper, tasty, home-cooked meal—except for that one time she visited Satya's place for Pongal. But back then, she'd at least shown a semblance of etiquette, refraining from being a shameless glutton. She had wanted to ask them to pack a big dabba for her dinner that night, but the social fairy in her brain had swatted down the intrusive thought. Good for her; she hadn't humiliated herself.

But tonight? Tonight, standards had flown out the window, probably hitchhiking to some faraway moral high ground.

Unfortunately, Xavier made it hard for her to enjoy even this. His extra-sexual appeal loomed over the dinner table like a forbidden aroma, and her mind, the ever-traitor, had gone into a frenzy of entirely inappropriate appetites.

"Wow," she murmured, taking another bite.

This food. This heavenly food. Lord Muruga himself must've blessed this meal before it reached her plate.

Her PG owner, on the other hand, had hired a lunatic chef who seemed to think cooking was synonymous with making bland potato curry or some other random ashes. She had no choice but to eat it—treating her stomach like a garbage disposal—because starving to death wasn't compatible with her ambitions, nor did she have the time or energy to cook after a full day of work.

"Ponnamma helped me out. She's been my chef for a few years now," Xavier replied casually, eating a spoonful of rice.

Krithika moaned as she bit into a morsel of Beans Poriyal. "Lord Muruga! Please call Ponnamma—I want to kiss her!"

Xavier smirked. "She already left. But her sous chef is here—you can kiss him. He'd probably frame it as his crowning achievement." He winked suggestively.

Rolling her eyes, she continued gobbling her food. She couldn't help but notice how proper he was, eating with fine cutlery and a napkin draped neatly over his lap. Smirking, she licked a bit of curry off her index finger.

"You're eating with a fork and spoon," she pointed out. "What are you, a lost prince of England?"

Xavier raised an eyebrow, twirling his spoon in mock aristocracy. "Believe me, this is a recent development. When you travel abroad often, you start getting called 'unhygienic' for the weirdest reasons."

"Yeah, and then they wipe their dirty asses with tissue paper. Hilarious."

Xavier chuckled, "Touché."

She shook her head, smiling at his remark. "Do you understand Tamil?"

"A little, but definitely not enough to survive here in Chennai," he admitted, serving her more Poriyal. "I'm learning from Dhanya. She's promised to teach me her favorite Thirukkural soon."

"Ambitious," she said, popping a crunchy piece of Appalam into her mouth. "But good. I always thought Malayalis had a head start with Tamil."

"Those fluent in Malayalam probably could," he conceded. "But me? I mostly know curses and a few not-so-polished words in Malayalam."

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

"Yeah." His face dimmed slightly, the lighthearted charm of a moment ago fading. "I grew up in a small town in North India and spent most of my days at a friend's house." He bit his lip, as though restraining something she couldn't guess. "I'm more fluent in Marathi than Malayalam."

"Alisha's Maharashtrian?" she asked instinctively.

"No," he said, shaking his head, his eyes fixed on his plate. "Iksha is. Her parents took care of me most of the time."

"Okay."

The air between them shifted. A few minutes ago, they had been bantering and enjoying a wonderful dinner. Now, it felt as though someone had dropped an emotional bomb on the table, splattering away all the joy.

"Sorry if I hurt you," she mumbled, her voice soft. "I wasn't trying to pry. I'm so sorry."

He looked up, his gaze steady but tender. "No, sweetheart. I'd like you to pry—ask me anything you want to know. Some things are hard for me to talk about, and I might not be ready to tell you everything right away, but..." His eyes, a molten shade of gold-brown, locked onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath. "I want you to trust me as much as I... trust you."

Do I love him?

She reached for her glass of water, drinking slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Her heart pounded frantically, the sound deafening in her ears.

Do I love him?

Xavier tore his gaze away, breaking the tension. "Eat, sweetheart. There's something special for dessert."

Do I fucking love him?

Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.