1.3 | Heartbreaks For Sale

10.

A/N:

Hellooz! I am back after a much-needed hiatus with a fresh chapter that unfortunately isn't very sunshine-y. It's got some feels and a peek into an Indian household with references so enjoy. I am attaching the picture of Akshara's neighbourhood above if anyone needs a visual.
Also, cliffhanger alert!

cara xx

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"DAD!" Akshara hopped off the bus and heaved her duffle bag up her shoulders. "I told you that you didn't have to pick me up."

"Have I become too old to pick up my daughter?" He asked, taking the bag from her. "Come on. Your mother has been freaking out about some dough not being ready yet. You should have told us before that you were coming early."

"It was a last minute decision, Dad," she said, watching him make a right turn. Snow had been swept to either side of the road, making a grey bridge over a white field. The roofs of the red and brown houses looked like it had grown an extra layer of white flesh over the month. Lia Wang, the neighbourhood tailor and designer, pushed away the snow off her shop's entrance. Mrs. Haiti carried a steaming pot over to the hardware store, her greying hair tucked underneath an orange beanie that stood out like the sun. Ruairi was being dragged by his four siblings to build a snowman. He looked at their car and waved, noticing Akshara in the passenger seat.

She waved back, chuckling at his situation. It was too early to build a snowman.

Strangely, she felt the comfort of home stronger than usual. The familiarity, homeliness and the neighbourhood kindness – it hit her like a storm of luxury she wasn't aware of owning. "It feels nice to be home," Akshara breathed out, tucking her hands in her pocket.

"Of course it does. There's no place like home."

But there's a person, she thought.

"The Browers are out of town. They let us use their garage since this snow makes the trip up the slope risky," Her Dad said and parked the car inside. Their house was the seventh one up the slope of Leasly Street, sandwiched between Rose's cafe and the Garfields. Though it looked like all the houses were stacked on top of each other, it was a very pleasant neighbourhood.

Akshara's Dad carried her bag up the slope which was fully sheathed in white. She followed closely behind. The smell of tomato and onions being roasted wafted into the air before she could take a step inside her porch. "What is she making?" Akshara asked.

"She's been fully at it for a week, trying to prepare all the masala and the dough for your favourite dishes and sweets. She can't be stopped."

She frowned. "Why is she making everything now? I'm going to be here for more than a week."

"All your favourite dishes are Indian and they take a lot of time to prepare. At least that's what she said. So, she wants to make a few things beforehand and store them so that she can spend more time with you while you are here."

"She has knee pain. Why is she stressing herself? You should have told her not to, Dad." Akshara opened the door and walked in. "Amma!"

"When did she ever listen to me?" Her Dad sighed.

"Amma! Where are you–"

Akshara was engulfed in a tight hug. The smell of turmeric and garam masala invaded her nose. Although lacking the fruity perfume, Akshara revelled in the snugness she experienced only in her mother's arms. "Amma, how are you?"