You Are Most Welcome Alpha

ll੧੯ll I Had No...

"Don't touch the cake, I'm leaving now," I said, rushing for the hall out but slowing my pace as an afterthought. Clearing my voice I bellow, "don't lick the leftover icing either, I'll know if you do."

There was a rumble of responses from upstairs, one from each individual occupying the house saying something different. Shaking my head, I take final glance at the homemade rosette cake I had just finished icing it in the lightest shade of pastel coral with contrasting white mixed in to create a deepened blend before heading out. Baking was the only thing I was favored for in this family; everyone from all 50 cousins in India to my parent's family friends sitting in Australia knew of my talent for creating goodies.

It would be a shame if they knew I wasn't gifted for cooking Indian, my mother would lightheartedly threaten me every so often. I grew to be oblivious, forcing my anger out in gentle strokes when frosting.

Donning the tight elastic bands of my flats to my heel, I gave another call to have the door locked behind.

The harsh sun was beaming down cold rays, the air chilling and numbing to the bones. There was a crashing sound, which resemble a lot like someone leaping from the second to last step from the staircase, and then the lock tumbled into place soon after. If Sengara had a flair for dramatics, my tyrant sister made her sound like a pup.

It was midterm weeks and to get that A I rightfully deserved, I was off to the gurudwara again to pray for the last time. And to, nevertheless, go do some seva. Also known as torture; please forgive me gods.

Seva meant to serve, which in the gurudwara meant to help out since it was all volunteer work that kept the temple running. It wasn't a bad thing to help with dishes, or to help cook in the kitchen along others, or to serve patrons while listening to some prayers being recited over the PA systems but earful you are to receive from the elderly women here is nothing short of agony.

Especially if you're a girl who doesn't have much experience with traditional Indian cuisines, nor can even communicate properly. Why must I hold your hand and teach you to cook when my own mother never did for me, my mother would reply indifferently as if it were a suffice enough reason for why she never taught me to cook.

It was wonder indeed why I went when I had no obvious talent to share, even when I knew I'd be lashed out on. I could stay home and bear it all in the privacy of my parent's four walls but nonetheless, something always ignited in me at the thought of staying home and weeping, and that flame ordered me go out again, to go and try.

The white shawl wasn't enough to keep the blasting wind out, but it wasn't bad either. I had opted for a suit of peachy coral, paled like the first colour that would blossom one's cheeks in the months of Fall, and a similar shade as to the roses decorating my cake. The full bell-sleeves were of sheer net, the neck a curve dipping an inch below the collar bone and revealing some of my chest until the chunni of thicken fabric, with silver tinsel-like borders and hand stitched pearls wrapped my neck and head. It was nearly twice the length and covered me twice over, the same white shawl draped over my shoulders for more warmth. Every hems was embroidered with matching colour thread, flower bulbs and petals outlined in russet brown to pop. It worked around my sleeves and along the deep back behind.

Baani said to come over by 2, so we'd get to walk the long five blocks to the temple together. Greysan was at a meeting with the Alpha's son to enjoy their hospitality. He described it as being held hostage over text message.

I was working around the bushes when I remembered how Greysan had pushed me up against a bark. So lost in my thoughts and grinning at the memory like a fool, I never got to hear the footsteps of another coming behind me and hadn't known of them until they nabbed me. I squirmed, pushing and kicking blindly, until the hands tightened which subdued me to stop. My glitchy old iPhone was torn from my hands and thrown quite a distance away.