Hello, people. My exams are over and I’m back. Feel free to scream with joy and shed tears of happiness. *Senses you staring at the screen incredulously* I’ll come back when you’ve composed yourself.
For those of you who’ve followed TTW for this long, I know this was something you’d be looking forward to and were probably disappointed when you checked my blog on Sunday. I am honestly, sincerely sorry for not posting that day. But well, finally I’m here, and you can stop bothering that pretty head of yours predicting what’ll happen next. As always, here’s a link for the previous parts if you haven’t caught up to them. Without further ado, let’s get right into it.
Azar was cooking rice on a gas stove when her hand accidentally hit the utensil of almost-boiled milk on the adjacent gas stove and it fell down with a loud clang, spilling the thick white liquid all over the floor. She gritted her teeth. Her husband would come storming into the kitchen anytime now. She quickly set about mopping the spilt milk, trying to ignore the scalding burn her right hand had suffered. Her left hand wasn’t her dominant one, so it took her longer than usual. As a result, her husband entered the place before she could finish up.
“Spilt a perfectly good kilo of milk again, have you?” In truth, Azar had never spilt milk before. “Do you know how expensive this is? Of course, you wouldn’t- you laze about in the house all day like a Maharani while I toil in the factory all day. Milk comes so dearly, but still, I buy it to keep you nourished and this is how you repay me?”
“I’m sorry, ji. It won’t happen again,” she said, cowering. She knew what would come next.