"Hi Himani, Khushi here."
When she apprehended Khushi over the phone, she was huddled into a bale of Himani, her legs and arms crumpled to her body around in her clear, blue-grey blanket that matched the plush, fluffy floor bed, her mobile propped up against her ears with her pillows.
She had no idea what time it was.
She had not set an alarm for this morning—Himani usually benefitted a couple days off in a week—since, this week's saturday at her workplace was especially driven by her, she'd to rule out her routine and have a single off week.
Yesterday was debilitating—well, save the last part where she'd seen Raghav and had luscious dinner, some sprightly conversation with him and had been probed by the auto driver, if she was in love—and this final part, it wasn't very importunate last night, but she knew it was not going to be the same today.
Or anywhere in the rest of the upcoming days, she did not see a desistance to that thought—not right now, atleast.
And she had decided not to chase for it.
"Hey," Himani murmured, her voice cracking up sleepily; her pellet of obsidian eyes closed.
Khushi gave out a light-hearted chuckle. "I hope you're still in bed—sleep is so evident in your voice."
"Mmmhmm.." hummed Himani.
"How're you? Especially, with Raghav there?" Himani's lips tugged at it in a slow, formless smile, her heart warming over it.
"Sleepy, Khushi. And we're doing great—your friend and I," she said carefully, trying not to make it obvious. Or not totally brushing it aside, either. And she sincerely hoped, it worked.
For Himani's effort, Khushi didn't seem to pay regard to the information, too much. "Well, then it's Khushi, your today's morning alarm, here," she lilted, restlessly, "—and I am not very happy about intruding your sleep but now that I have done it, I am not going to back out." When Khushi rambled, it meant endlessness.
Himani spun to her back, rolling out of the ball she had nestled into. "How much do I wish you were here so that I can hit the alarm off on its head," her languor spoke up for her, as she stretched her body straight.
Himani heard Khushi choke up on a faint laugh, "Fine, now that you want it, I could be coming there this afternoon—about which I have got to talk to you, now—and you can flout my head, as simple as that," she said, her vivacity quite flagrant. Himani blinked at the ceiling, her mind and body hazed as much as her eyes were.
Caffeine. She needed caffeine.
She must have her morning dose of coffee, to get out of this—but practically, getting herself out of this bed before coffee seemed hopeless too—this was the coffee paradox. Anyone, who's a don't-talk-to-me-before-I've-had-my-coffee would feel this deeply.
Himani stifled a yawn, before she answered, "Khushi, I am sorry to say this—I have not had my morning coffee—enduring a rational conversation is nearly impossible right now." She wanted to shed light on the fact that if she was any brusque, it was just because of dearth of caffeine. Normal. Perfect.
Khushi's oceany eyes flashed at it, "Hey, you're a no talkie, before coffee person, too?" she asked her voice sparkling in surprise.
Himani tweaked on her bed at the impulsive amusement, "I am strictly that person—nothing else," she countered, with a faltering, minim laugh.
"I feel you. This Dev keeps talking to me as soon as we wake up in the morning. Okay, now I think I am being Dev myself," Khushi said, her very own comprehension making her sigh. "Just listen over to me—you don't have to talk—I will make that a yes/no question, would that be fine?" delicately, she wormed Himani.
"Fine."
"Good. I am going out of city for a week on account of my cousin's wedding. And I have asked Raghav if he could take care of Dera for the week. He lives with you and I'd be a moron, if I did not ask you for it." She cleared up, her voice still wired.
"Oho."
"Is that a yes? Please, say yes," Khushi solicited.
"Yes."
"Wow. okay, Can I bring him there before I leave to my parents' this afternoon?"
"As you would want to, Khushi. I will just be lazing down at home, the whole day." Himani affirmed. She had even cancelled her re-scheduled online baking class that day—a restless Himani would be a whole caboodle of crankiness and that wouldn't be aiding a tad bit in tutoring phyllo pastry, over skype.
"Thanks Chef," Khushi flashed an immense grin, adding "—and you seem to conduct yourself properly, even before you've had your coffee."
"Best acclamation ever." Himani snickered back. Trussing her elbows on the pillows, and sitting up cross-legged, she probed. "Hey, tell me what time is it?"
"Half-past ten."
"Fine, I will just get going. And you're welcome any time today."
Just when they had hung up, Himani got up flipping off the covers.
She made her bed, brushed and moored her hair in a nest of a bun in real quick and sauntered out of her room.
Raghav's door was locked but he was sprawled in his back on the sofa, his hands clamped together holding his phone—appeared as though he was texting someone—his brows puckered earnestly, in some serious business.
Himani had not foreseen him very much awake—considering the time they both reached home last night, and how he said he wasn't going to bed any sooner. Wondering about it, she paused in her tracks; leaning up against the wall as her hands clasped each other behind her back.
Minding her show up in the living room, Raghav twisted his head over the handrest of the sofa. "Hey, good morning," he said with a mellow smile, his taking eyes twinkling.
"Good morning—but are you sure of it?" she asked finding her lips reciprocating his warmth of smile.
"Yeah." Raghav mumbled as he sat up. He was wearing his half-trousers and an olive-green t-shirt with collars; his jet black hair was disheveled, as always; his scruff of beard, tattered over his butt-chin—he was homey but spruce and distracting—even though, she'd never agree with that frankly.
Slumping back in the sofa, he looked at her, slightly bemused, "Why though?"
"I thought you're awake early, after having a long night, that's why," she construed and it was reasonable.
"Long night it was, but just didn't feel like sleeping in."
Himani freed her hands, "Fine, I will just go fix up coffee and something for breakfast," she said, waving at the kitchen and puttering around to it.
Raghav got up from the sofa with nonsensical haste. As he grabbed the notebook and pen that were scattered on the floor, he draggled after her to the kitchen. This was what he was waiting for, until Himani came out of her room this morning.
"Hey, Himani. Could you tell me the name of the pasta we ate last night?" he buzzed, popping his head in her well bedecked kitchen, when she had just emptied a packet of milk into the saucepan.
Himani had never felt her kitchen too condensed—and practically, it was not—even with bounteous utensils and accessories, she had stacked up. But, with Raghav looming over, she sensed it to be a little puny, in addition to slender ruffling in her chest. "That's Lasagne verbi," she answered, having her focus on the saucepan.
Raghav carefully scribbled it down in his note book, "It was so creamy and yummy. I am glad you chose it," he mulled over the rich taste that lingered in his mouth, for so long even after he ate it.
"Thanks, I came up with it." Himani unveiled. She thought he might like to know an extra word about it, since he seemed fairly enraptured, relishing it.
"With the name?"
She twirled around, thrusting her chin up to look at him in his dismissed eyes. "The dish, it's recipe—I came up with the whole of it," she claimed.
Raghav looked at her blinking his eyes several times in thrill, as if taking in that piece of information took seconds."Is that your recipe?" he asked, wide-eyed. "I mean, what do they say it... uhmm.. Signature dish! Is it that?"
Himani nodded with a cordial simper. "Yes, I was in that kitchen back when I came up with it and sold it to them," she enlightened, turning around to turn the stove off.
Raghav beckoned his head, still processing it. "Cool. Actually, awesome. You're awesome." he stuttered and it was quite captivating—the one that you could bask in watching it.
She handed him over his mug of coffee, flashing a self-reliant grin. "I know I am awesome." Himani was questionless about her craft and had known it for a long time.
Her credence intrigued Raghav—she wasn't brashly cocky—everyone needed to be self-reliant about themselves in what they did and it was that requisite amount, it was. He placed his mug on the cabinet and hopped on it to be perched. "And the other dishes are from other chefs like you?"
Himani agreed nodding. She was sipping on her coffee, careening against the cabinet across the kitchen. "There are a few regular ones and others are from people like me," eyes at him, she said.
He didn't say anything when she had acquainted him but simply savored his coffee. Pondering over it for few seconds, Raghav pulled his head up, his eyes massively startled in conscious of something. "Hey, you said you worked there which means you know to cook almost all of them," he hustled with his words, confounding Himani. His demeanor had shuffled just as though he had espied something fresh.
"Yeah," she got back, her forehead creased and eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He hopped down from where he had seated and moved to the sink to rinse his mug, "You'd been cooking just Dhal-Chawal, Rajma-Chawal and every other boring dish here—like the routine menu of a college canteen, when in real you've known so much," he sneered, his eyes at her, desperate.
The comparison—without any doubt—riled her up. "Does my food taste like college canteen food?" Himani asked ferociously raising an eyebrow at him. And it meant trouble—running off at mouth at her had good chances of getting his food supply severed, straight off—he wouldn't risk it.
He quickened to pick it up and made it even, "I did not mean the taste, House Owner. I meant the repetition," he said smiling at her awkwardly, looking out for her to slacken. Instead, Himani just glowered at him with an impending torpedo.
With the sheepish smile still on, he tipped forward and snatched the empty coffee mug from her hand with an offer to rinse it for her. She let him do it, but continued to watch him not even fluttering her eyes—being both stunned and frightened at his unpredictable act.
Raghav was quite a lot of things—but she didn't know being this winning was one of them.
Putting the washed mug in its appropriate place, he swung his gaze over to Himani, who was just standing across him."When will you pasta me?" he asked, earning a deadpan expression from her.
"Is that why you offered to help me?" she asked dryly.
Confused at the grill, he shrugged, "I did it because I thought I made you mad with my comment," he mumbled and it was super genuine.
As much as Himani appeared steady outside, she wasn't—with her gut thudding strangely, and her hand clasping the other elbow, seeking composure; her breath leaving in a trembling stretch. She pressed her lips together, intently, plunging a glance towards Raghav.
His eyes were brown and bright and dexterous and nowhere close to devising a calculation like that. He did not care to play sordid.
He was naive—although, that was the last thing she had thought him as.
She realized she had lapsed him for a complication, when in real he was only glib and unpretentious.
Risking another fleeting look at him and his slipshod expressions made her want to slap her forehead, shamefaced by her judgement—what she had thought of him wasn't really nasty—yet, it purely consumed her with repentance.
She decided to shake the prodding thoughts off and replied him in all sincerity, "But we just ate it yesterday."
Raghav casted out a puzzled look at her, making a thin crease in his brows.
"We just ate it last night—the pasta," she illumed, jerking her shoulders—like she had not blundered about him just two paragraphs ago—smooth Himani, he wouldn't know.
Raghav blew out a harsh breath, groaning restlessly, "I don't mind. Pasta me, Himani, pasta me."
Himani threw her head back in laughter that gushed in her. "Oh, please, are you planning on getting bored of pasta anytime sooner?"
"Himani, pasta can never bore anyone. Think twice before telling such things, it is an insult to them." He argued sincerely. Another regaled laughter spouted out and she had to practically slam her mouth with her palm.
Raghav watched her laugh helplessly—with a serious pout on his face and those innoxious eyes—this guy deserved more than just pasta.
"I will pizza you tonight, how about that?" she blurted out vividly. The sensation of having her hands in dough while kneading, ravished her senses and it was starting to swelter her insides. And the way she'd just sprinkle the flour over her cabinet and spread the dough, and fresh mozzarella over it. And how in divine whiff and ooey-gooey glory would they be as she freshly shoveled them out of the oven. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Raghav seemed wooed by the idea and Himani learned it by the way he screamed deliriously, "That'd be brilliant!"
The pair of generous, sable eyes flickered with what looked like jubilance. "Then, pizza it is."
Corners of his mouth lurched up in an astral smile. Remembrance of Khushi's obligation about asking Himani about having Dera over for a week, tripped in his mind. And as Himani padded over to the fridge, looking out for fixing a quick breakfast for them, his obliging peek waggled after her. "Uhm.. Himani, Khushi wants me to look after Dera for a week or so, from today; while she's flying out of city. Would you mind having him here? I hope you're not allergic to pets."
Himani strode back to the stove, carrying a cylindric stainless steel container of dosa batter. She set it on the countertop, chucking a prudish glare at him, "Did you clean your room?" she asked curtly.
The question straightaway panicked him and it showed—and let Himani conclude an answer without even hearing him out.
"I will do it," he mumbled, lowering his eyes from her tyrannical glare, as she managed to dig out a huge chunk of batter from the container and poured it over the scalding pan.
"Your 'I will do it' sounds more like, who the hell cares about cleaning and keeping the room tidy!" Himani scoffed.
Her conviction amazed him. "That's what I thought, but you'd just kick me out of the house if I'd told that first and it wouldn't be nice," he said, sporting a meek grin on.
Himani returned a thin smile, "Raghav, I'd take the absolute honour of doing it and I am not even joking," which only turned out to be sourpussed at the end.
"First things first, tell me if I can have Dera here?"
Wondering the nerve he had got to put forth a demand, she extended a plate of dosa at his face. "You can," she said her voice and expressions, pert.
"Superb. You're the best house-owner." He beamed at her.
With a cutting glare, she bit out, "But you're not the best tenant, you see."
"Being mediocre is the new best," gobbling down the dosa, he muttered, his words half-incoherent, "And I am offended by that glare," he added, pointing out at her eyes.
Himani sassed, "Mission accomplished."
"Rude woman!" he snapped, his voice gruff and sullen.
"You can have Dera here, but I have a few terms for you."
His shoulders alertly stiffened. "This is ruder than your previous statement."
"I don't care." Himani shook her head in a dreary, lethargic chuckle, as she flung another dosa onto his plate. Glimpsing at the piping hot, perfectly crispy dosa, he knew, his side of the rope was fraying.
He tore away a wad of it and shoved it in his mouth and retaliated, "I, dearly, do."
She was not giving up. "It's either my way—"
"—or your way." So, he did it, his mouth dosa-full. Because the Dosa he just had was goddamn glorious and it was okay to relinquish while eating it—and double-okay, if it was losing to Dosa-maker itself.
A wicked grin took over Himani's mouth, full-fledged, presenting wrinkles under her eyes, "Good boy. You have to sweep the living room, kitchen, the condo and your room everyday, for a week." she blazoned her declaration.
Raghav looked how altogether a disgusted person would be. "Basically, everything else other than your room," he asked queasily, in whiney voice.
"Yes."
He agreed with a harsh exhale. "Okay."
Raghav was just lazing around in the sofa, until Himani had had her token of breakfast. He had plopped back with his notebook, pen and his head seriously dipped in it. He settled the time scribbling in something which would be clearly indecipherable to anyone else, who read his notebook; his eyebrows bunched together, he swapped back the jotted pages roughly as he toppled over to sit back.
"I am going to have to shop for a few groceries for pizza."
When Raghav spotted Himani marching down to the living room, he was still stalled in the sofa, the travail of revising his script engrossing him—roosted cross-legged and placid; the stem of his pencil slid, scooching over his ear.
Himani was garbed in murky grey tee-shirt that read 'less monday, more sunday' and a pair of camo joggers. Clean, minty, invigorating scent attested for the shower she had just had. The torpor that kept tracing behind her since yesterday—as he remembered—had meliorated. Her voluminous whorls of hair was secured in a half-hearted bun and her favorite strawberry red grocery bag was slinging down her shoulder.
Raghav let his legs down and stood up, "Can I join you?" he asked, feeling a diligent surge to help her.
She picked her phone that she had left on the TV stand, muttering, "No."
"Give me one good reason why I should stay home," he droned, staggered at the blatant rejection.
Himani inspected him in an austere glare and sighed, "Your room—"
Raghav caught where she was going with this, "—other than cleaning my room," he hushed with a sharp stare, before she could complete her sentence.
Himani could do nothing but roll her eyes and wrap her arms together in exasperation. If she had to gussy up a reason, not including what she just said, it'd be garbage—also, she did not have any of them, in first place. So she just decided to come to terms with the fact that time spent with him was heartening and favored to delight herself in it, when it came her way.
When life gives you lemons, pickle them spicy—and have it with your Thayir Saadham (curd rice), Himani.
Breathing an ample air, she laid it. "Fine, come along."
"I will be back in a minute," said Raghav, as he closed and collected his notebook. He trotted into his room and was back there within an exact minute. "Come on," he said, brushing past her.
Himani let her eyes wander over him, from head to toe. He was still in the same attire and clearly, had not showered. "I thought you'd want to shower or atleast change," she rendered, watching him from the corner of her eyes.
Raghav could almost perceive what her stare translated into."Oh, don't mind, I am shameless like that," he agreed to it, with an open heart.
Himani freed a chortle at his munificence, on their way out.
It was close to twelve-thirty in the early afternoon, when they strolled down the lane; the sun blazing and high, putting two little boilers on their heads. Himani scrunched her eyes, as she walked along the super-scorching sky. Raghav, not minding it, signed himself up in watching over the area—although, it was almost a week's old to him, he had not really put effort in learning about it.
When they had flocked most of the ingredients from the listing Himani had made mentally, and joined the terse queue behind the billing counter; Raghav turned to a plumed voice calling out at him, from behind. "Excuse me."
Himani looked over her shoulders to take a gander at the girl behind them. The girl was young, guileless, presumably, in her late teens or early twenties and didn't look completely Indian. She had a wide, mammoth smile smeared across her face—totally, marvelled at the sight she had in her front—which was none other than Raghav.
Raghav, his gaze slimmed dubiously, tilted his head to her, "Uhmm... Yeah?"
The girl looked up to him, "You're Raghav Varadarajan of Haasyam, aren't you?" she said, with a rhythmic laugh. Himani watched them quiet and wide-eyed.
Raghav smiled back. "Yes, I am." Haasyam was the humor-club, he was a member of and the label, under which he performed his stand-up comedies.
The girl, as her eyes shone in sheer elation, stuck her palm at him, "I am Milo."
Raghav took her hands, but his eyes were hazed and uncertain. Having observed that, she clarified, "Full-name is Milochana Abrew—Mom's Indian, Dad's from Portugal." smiling the same ear-to-ear smile, she said.
"Oh, Hi."
Himani didn't talk anything but just let her eyes swap to and fro to both of them as they conversed. But from nowhere, she found her mouth straining from the smile she had gotten on it.
"I have seen a couple of your shows—and I really loved how your humor is quite natural and a rollercoaster of laughter and very very very candid," Milo verbally expressed the stars shimmering in her sprightly eyes.
Raghav nodded his head smiling, "Thanks Milo. I am so glad it works out with people."
"It does one hundred percent. My friend had lost one of her parents lately, and couldn't cope with it, at all, even after several months. She stopped hanging out with us and stayed aloof. Last month, I forced her to go with me to watch your show—and found her laughing to tears in forty-five minutes," she said her voice starting to crack up, and breathless, "—you've no idea, how much I owe you." Milo looked at him gratefully.
But, Himani exactly had an exact idea of what Raghav was doing with his life—he was making people laugh, when they couldn't manage to smile—and this was what this brutal world needed more of, even if it included paying for it.
Raghav felt a tug at his heart, with what he just had to hear, "I am really exhilarated what it made to your friend, Milo. Thank you very much." Though, he had finished doing a handful of open-mics by now, he was not used to this kind of compassionate admiration. It was new but made his heart full.
"Ever since that day, I wanted to thank you for this." Milo cheered, "Can I take a picture with you, if you don't mind?" she asked.
"Sure."
Milo fished for her phone from her handbag and turned to Himani, "Could you take a picture for me, please?"
"I can do that." Himani breathed through a smile.
Passing on her phone to Himani, Milo squirmed over to Raghav's side. Raghav gently wormed his feet, a little aside—he had his rules, which it included 'no messing up with his fans'—and he lived by it.
Raghav stayed pensive, even then—the information he had come to know, rendering him into a daze. Himani could discern it, "Smile Raghav," she muttered softly, when he had just stood blank for the photograph.
Bidding goodbye to Milo and paying their bill, the two of them returned home.
As soon as Himani brought the essential things home, she had started preparing the dough.
Raghav was next to Himani in the kitchen, watching her having both the hands doused in flour and luke-warm water, and helping her out by pouring in water, when she asked for it.
When he asked if he could stay in the kitchen with her, while she made the pizza dough; she had dismissed it with a nod—as usual, Raghav had to talk her into having him there.
Before they set out on it, Himani insisted Raghav on washing his hands properly—though, he was not going to knead the dough, he might have to sprinkle water—now that, he got so adamant about helping her.
Himani screwed the faucet open, and soaked her hand wet, "First, palm to palm, then back of them, then your finger grooves, nails," she instructed as she lathered her hands according to it. Raghav observed it—but barely, did all of it.
Albeit, he couldn't evade Himani's scrutiny—she discovered it and just jabbed him by his shoulders, back to the sink.
He had to do it again. "So, you're basically making me take half-a-shower in the kitchen sink," he muttered as he rinsed his hands, "Why you make me wash my hands like I am going to perform a surgery, Himani?" he whined making her tremble in ginger giggle.
When they had just prepared the dough and set it aside for fermentation, Raghav ambled back to the living room, hearing out a car stopping by their gate.
As Raghav looked over it, Khushi hopped down from the driver's side and walked over to the other side to unlock the door for Dera—followed by, unbuckling his seat belt. She quickly picked up Dera's travel bag jammed with his necessities, from the back seat.
Freed from the strap, Dera hopped down from the car, and scuttled behind Khushi, whilst she walked over to the house.
Himani beamed at both of them.
"Hi Himani," Khushi screeched, walking up to her. Being new to be seen, Dera darted to Himani and began sniffing at her legs. Himani was delighted to have him here—she liked to have pets. The only reason of not having one on her own was because she'd be away from home, the whole day and she could never let the unconditionally loving soul, to harrow in loneliness.
"Hi, he's very lovely," Himani said, carried away by Dera's love. He had hopped to her, trying to reach her shoulders, to lick her face. What he could reach was her hand that was scrubbing his forehead and neck, so he just settled to show all the love he had for his new human, by licking it.
Khushi perked up, "That he is. Poor baby, didn't even eat properly after he saw me pack his bag." she sighed, and added, "Smart boy, though."
Shuffling to Raghav, she carefully held on to Dera's bag—what looked like a baby's diaper bag—and slung it over at Raghav's shoulder. "This has his essentials—medicines, toys, his collar leads, and his shampoo—" she paused there and her eyes gleamed in threat, "By any chances, you let him get dirty, you get to run him his bath, and would be the recipient of all the tantrums thrown by him!" she said with determination.
Raghav chuckled, "Khushi, are you serious? I am not even getting myself showered properly."
"I don't care about that." she said, rubbing Dera's drooped ears. Ever since, he watched his mom pack his bag, his ears hadn't perked up.
"Fine, when are you coming back?" Raghav asked.
"Saturday evening," Khushi answered, and noticed the swift change in Raghav's mien. It was his show day—and Khushi had been there at it, from number one till the last one.
She ruffled his hair, slightly, "Now, don't sulk—I'd be here by evening, before you get to the stage. Dev and I, we have reserved our tickets. So, we wouldn't miss. okay?" she said, gingerly.
"Okay."
Khushi shrugged, "Well, that's grumpy—Please, I am already struggling to deal with this guy's grumpiness from morning," she rumbled, as she knelt down to place a kiss on Dera's temples.
"Be a good boy, Dera. Don't trouble Himani," she mumbled, as she pulled him into her arms, "Trouble Raghav, all you want because he is used to it and he will give back, nicely."
After a few sloppy kisses and licks, Khushi had to let Dera down—she was getting late.
"Thank you, Himani. You saved me this week," Khushi said it, rushing to the gate. Himani and Raghav were walking her down to the car. "I don't know what will Dev and I do, when we have a human baby."
Himani smiled at the vision of it, "Even then, you will be at your best Khushi," she assured, with a hug.
Khushi smiled back, "I am counting on this guy and his house owner even then."
***
Time was half-past seven in the evening, and the pizza dough had doubled.
Removing the damp cloth she'd covered it with, Himani punched the dough and knock the air out and tested for the softness—it was perfect.
When Himani had started chopping vegetables of their choice, she had shoved the packet of mozzarella and the grater in Raghav's hands.
He sat down to grate it, gleefully, "Right now, you could say I am very grateful," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at his plate of grated cheese and Himani—getting her to laugh out, at his silly pun.
When Himani was done with pulling and parting the dough, Raghav stood aside and watched her spread out the dough and take it in her hands. As she swiveled and flung it in air skillfully, the dough whirled around and landed in her hands, widened—and he was confounded by her adept act.
He then shook his head out of it, as if he was in trance, "Hey, can I do that too?" he had asked, his eyes glistening curiously, "Will you teach me how to do it?"
Raghav was always cropping up pleas, tempting her. It had happened so much from morning, and she had to cease doing it at some point. An alarm of alertness chimed in her mind in its loudest decibel.
She quivered as she breathed out heftily, and chinned up to meet his gaze—his eyes were resplendent in their brown glory—and sure, they put her at ease.
Himani gulped a huge breath, inflating her insides—she might've to stop doing it someday—but, not necessarily, right away.
Texts between Himani and Varsha the following night:
Himani, are you alive?
Very much alive.
Oho, where've you been all day?
Home.
How did you get back home last night?
In auto. Raghav didn't have his key and he had to wait at the front desk all along till I could wrap up. We had dinner there and came back home.
I think there's typo in your last message, Himani.
Shouldn't it be *dinner date* ? and why waste auto fare? You both basically live together. Could've just hopped onto his bike ;)
Mind you, it was only DINNER.
Whatever you call it as. Now that you've revealed this one, I doubt what you did the whole day at home. I am not even imagining anything. You can totally trust me.
Typical. Stupid. Bestfriend. Behavior.
I am calling you for all the noble information I need to learn.
