Ezhil's pov:

I left college a little early today. Kayal had her internal exam, and I knew she'd come home exhausted, probably with smoke coming out of her ears. Especially because... well, I set the question paper.

And yeah. It was a little tough.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

So now, here I am in the kitchen, flipping soft idlis on the steamer and stirring tomato chutney with extra curry leaves. Nothing fancy, but it's her favourite combo. This isn't dinner. This is damage control.

If I finish cooking before she comes home, she can't complain about not helping. She always feels guilty about things like that. But today, I know for sure she's not going to hold back.

She's going to come in, throw her bag down dramatically, and start a courtroom trial about the cruelty of the question paper.

As I tasted the chutney to check the salt, the kitchen door suddenly flew open.

"BAHHHH!"

I nearly dropped the ladle.

"AYYO! Kayal!" I clutched my chest. "What is this horror movie entrance?"

She was standing there, fully changed into her comfy kurti, hair in a loose braid, face washed and glowing. When did she even come home? How did I not hear the door?

She grinned like a villain caught in the act. "That was payback for making me suffer today."

I turned back to the stove, trying not to smile. "Dinner's ready. Sit down before you start any World War."

She slid into the dining chair and stared at the plate I placed in front of her.

"Idli and tomato chutney?"

I nodded, smug.

"Ah. So this is how you plan to bribe me," she said, breaking a piece of idli. "Smart man."

"Bribe? No, no. This is how I show care," I replied innocently.

She raised her eyebrow. "Care? After torturing me with that exam?"

"It wasn't torture. I just asked the important parts of the syllabus," I said calmly, serving myself another idli.

She almost choked. "Important? EZHIL. One of your questions was 'Explain the limitations of internal control in five dimensions with practical examples.' What in the world were those five dimensions?"

I burst out laughing. "Come on. That was from the last unit."

"Even the last unit wouldn't recognise that question if it walked past it on the street," she shot back, fuming and eating at the same time.

I leaned on the table and said, "I thought you'd find it easy."

"The audacity you have to call it easy..." she glared at me. "Do you know how many people cursed you today? Half the class said they're going to come in a group and beat you up with their record books."

I grinned. "Tell them to form an orderly queue."

She tried not to laugh. Failed.

"And you," she said, pointing her spoon at me, "will get a long paragraph in the college WhatsApp group tomorrow. Just wait."

"I'll screenshot it and frame it. Right next to my PhD certificate."

She shook her head, chewing silently for a moment. Then, her voice softened.

"But still... thank you for making dinner. It tastes like comfort after a storm."

I blinked.

She never says things like that without meaning them.

"You're welcome," I said quietly, watching her tuck in another idli.

Maybe I did make her life a little harder today. But if one good meal and some teasing could bring her smile back, I'd happily do it all over again.

Except... maybe with four dimensions next time.

Kayalvizhi's pov:

"Exams over. Brain fried. Heart full."

The final bell rang, and I swear, I could hear angels singing.

No more internal exams. At least for now.

I stepped out of the hall with a huge breath of relief, like someone just lifted a truck off my chest. Around me, students were already high-fiving, stretching like they'd come out of hibernation, and throwing their pens in the air like mini celebrations.

"Kayal!" Shruthi called out, waving her hand wildly. "Come fast, we're going to the canteen before the crowd murders all the samosas!"

I laughed and jogged to join her and the others. My legs were tired but my mood? Sky high.

We slid into our usual table near the window. The sun was golden, the fan made its usual dying-duck noise, and the smell of cheap coffee and oily bajjis felt oddly comforting today.

"Let's not talk about exams for the next one week," Priya declared, stuffing a spoonful of kesari into her mouth.
"Agreed," I said, raising my glass of watery lime juice like it was wine. "To freedom!"

Everyone clinked their glasses and we burst out laughing like we had just finished board exams and were about to take over the world.

And for a while, we did talk about everything except exams — the weird proctor who kept staring, the guy in the third row who kept clicking his pen like it was a stress toy, and our classmate's overly dramatic "I'm fainting out of fear act.

But somewhere between the jokes and the laughter, my thoughts drifted.

To him.

To My Professor.

To Ezhil.

I wondered if he'd ask how the exams went. If he'd smile that annoying little smile and say, "Told you internal audit wasn't that hard."
Hmph. Easy for him to say. He was the one setting the question paper.

Shruthi nudged me. "Where did you go just now?"

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a second. Were you thinking about... Sir?"

I nearly choked on my drink.

"What—no!"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

I looked away and sipped the juice calmly. "I was thinking about... uh... idli podi. Amma said she'd send some from home."

Great save, Kayal.

Terrible.

I laughed it off with them, but deep inside I knew.

Something about this man who is my husband — the man who made sure I had hot dinner after a long day and never judged me when I cried over cost accounting , he wasn't just in my life now.

He was slowly making his way into my heart, too.

But that's a tomorrow problem.

Today?
Today, exams were done.
And samosas were waiting.

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