Forced into the Backseat
“What the hell Khushi!” Arnav pounced.
“What?” Khushi didn’t look up.
Hissing in frustration, in two quick strides Arnav switched off the television.
Khushi leaned back and popped another chana* in her mouth.
“I don’t get it Khushi.” He thrust a finger into her face. “How can you sit here and watch some stupid soap while Angel cries her heart out?”
Khushi shrugged. “It’s nothing major.”
“You know?” He sat down with a thump.
“She’s heartbroken.” Khushi said in a stage whisper.
“What the…!” Arnav was back on his feet fists clenched. “I’ll kill Shubham.” he ground out.
“Go ahead,” Khushi waved, “but remember your precious Angel won’t thank you for it.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“What else can I do? They are adults. They have to sort it out.” Khushi shot him a darkling look “You also stay out of it.”
“I have to do something!” He paced the floor.
“Go tend your plants.” Khushi went to the kitchen. “Or take up kickboxing.”
“Are you crazy?”
“It’s going to take some time.” She expertly sifted and prepared the batter for the jalebi*. She wrinkled her nose at him. “It’s been 30 years and we still haven’t stopped have we?”
*Chana: Roasted Bengal gram
*Jalebi: an irresistible crispy juicy Indian sweet
Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – a story in 200 words or less. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the challenge and Sascha Darlington for the photo prompt. To read the other stories inspired by this prompt click here.