Dinner was surprisingly successful—meaning nothing was burnt beyond recognition, and the fire alarm remained mercifully silent. Arin had barely finished his plate when Shanaya leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Okay, so now that you’ve survived my cooking, you’re officially family,” she declared.
Astha snorted. “That’s a very low bar.”
“You say that like I haven’t raised that bar significantly,” Shanaya shot back. “Besides, Arin passed the real test—he ate everything without hesitation. That makes him either incredibly brave or slightly unhinged.”
Arin smiled, placing his fork down. “Or maybe I just enjoyed the meal.”
Astha raised an eyebrow. “See, that’s how you know he’s being polite. We don’t do polite here, Arin. We believe in brutal honesty.”
“Oh? And what would brutal honesty sound like in this case?” he asked, leaning back, genuinely entertained.
Astha took a sip of her tea and deadpanned, “That was an edible tragedy.”
Shanaya gasped dramatically. “How dare you insult my masterpiece?”
“Sweetheart, it tasted like you had a very close call with disaster, and somehow, miraculously, disaster backed off at the last minute,” Astha said, her face perfectly straight.
Arin chuckled, shaking his head. He had never met anyone quite like her. Astha had this rare ability to make her words cut and amuse at the same time, her humor sharp but never unkind. It fascinated him.
“So, what’s next on this family bonding night?” he asked, looking between the two.
Shanaya grinned. “Movie roast night! We pick a terrible movie and mercilessly tear it apart. Mom is undefeated.”
“She’s undefeated in a lot of things, it seems,” Arin mused.
Astha shrugged. “What can I say? Excellence is a burden.”
“Oh, please,” Shanaya rolled her eyes, pulling up a list of absurdly bad movies. “Alright, what’s your tolerance level for second-hand embarrassment? Because I have a selection that will make you question human intelligence.”
Arin considered this for a moment. “I suppose I’m about to find out.”
And just like that, Arin found himself seated on the couch, sandwiched between two women who had perfected the art of sarcastic commentary. The movie began, some over-the-top melodramatic dialogue filling the room, and before he knew it, Astha had fired off her first critique.
“If stupidity were an Olympic sport, this character would take home gold.”
Shanaya pointed at the screen. “And look! The hero has a tragic backstory that makes absolutely no sense. He fell down the stairs as a child, and now he’s a brooding billionaire.”
Arin smiled, shaking his head. “That’s a very specific cause-and-effect.”
“It’s all about trauma,” Astha said sagely. “Apparently, if you suffer even minor inconvenience in these movies, you either become a playboy CEO or a vengeful assassin. There is no in-between.”
A particularly dramatic scene played out, with the heroine running in slow motion through the rain. Shanaya clutched her chest. “Oh no, she’s crying! And in movie logic, that means she’s suddenly in love.”
Astha shook her head. “This woman just met him three days ago. I’ve had deeper emotional connections with my coffee.”
Arin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m impressed. You two could be professional critics.”
“We have a dream,” Shanaya said dramatically. “To save humanity from terrible cinema.”
Astha sighed wistfully. “But humanity keeps failing us.”
As the movie rolled on, he wasn’t thinking about the past or the future.
He was simply there.
With them.
And for the first time in his existence, he wasn’t just observing life.
He was living it.
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