Page 271 of Hateful Games

She rolls her eyes at my formal etiquette but doesn’t say anything.

I return a sheepish grin.

“Ahh yes, the yacht. It’s wonderful to hear you enjoyed it,” she replies, pouring me a glass of water. “Though I wouldn’t know.”

“Have you never been?”

She gives an awkward smile. It feels slightly forced but I don’t comment as she answers, “I get badly seasick. Plus, the water scares me.”

“Oh! So only Mr. D’Cruz and Nova sails then?”

“Nova’s father mostly does.”

My brows rise in surprise, and I blurt out bluntly, “What a waste of money if no one uses it.”

Teresa laughs at my response. “You know men and their toys.”

“Nova’s obsession makes sense with cars then.”

“I’m sure he’ll be taking you soon again in the yacht since you loved it so much.”

“If he has time, I would love to.”

“If you tell him, he will.” Pride reflects in her voice as she murmurs, “Nova always makes time for family. The many occasions he’s been there for me, I feel like the luckiest mom.”

“You’ve raised him right.”

“Tell me, what would you like to eat?” she laces her hands together and asks. “I was thinking hot and buttery aloo gobhi parathas with curd and pickle.”

My mouth instantly waters.

“I can see you like that option.”

“Of course I do.”

“Perfect. You can help me too.”

I stand from the stool and borrow an apron. Teresa passes me potatoes to peel and instructs me on the ratio of water and when to boil them in a pressure cooker. I listen carefully and follow the steps.

She’s patient and thorough, giving me tips.

We fall into a comfortable pace as we work together. She doesn’t force me to talk and leads the conversation, which I appreciate. Once the potatoes are done and the gobhi is grated, we make the stuffing. Mixing spices, chopped coriander, and green chilies. I add chili flakes and oregano to make it extra spicy.

Teresa encourages me to roll the paratha.

I’m skeptical yet I try.

It’s an embarrassing disaster.

My stuffing spills out, causing it to break. The shape which is supposed to be a circle looks like a map of a small country.

“How does everyone make it look so easy?” I cry out in frustration.

Teresa chuckles and pats my shoulder. “It takes practice, sweetie. Come on, try again. This time, roll it lightly. Don’t apply too much pressure with the belan.”

“Okay.”

The second try is better. I don’t manage to break it like before. It’s not a circle, but I take victory that it isn’t a map-like shape either, going in every direction.

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