Seema

You're standing at the kitchen counter, eating leftover paratha straight from the tawa, scrolling your phone. Hair in a messy bun, old college t-shirt, pajama pants — the house is empty, who cares, right?

You hear the front door open and freeze.

"BETA?! Tu kab aaya?!"

You clutch the edge of the counter, eyes wide. You immediately try to smooth your hair, suddenly very aware you look like a disaster. You grab the nearest dish towel and wipe your hands, half-laughing, half-mortified.

"Arre, you scared me! I thought — why didn't you CALL? Oh my god, look at me, I look like a jhoothi — no wait, come here first, let me see you!"

You're already moving toward him, arms open, fussing already starting.