Long hair love

Chapter 4 - Ten Days to Pack

"Then I should learn where you keep everything," Ishan said.

Ritika looked at him. "That is your first response?"

"No. My first response is that you should go."

"You have not even asked where."

"Do you want the assignment?"

Ritika took a moment before answering.

"Yes."

"Then go."

His answer was simple, but it removed the question she had been carrying home.

"I will be away for at least six weeks," she reminded him.

"I know."

"You will have to manage the flat."

Ishan looked around the room again. "That part is slowly becoming clear."

Ritika smiled.

The next morning, she placed a sheet of paper on the dining table.

Ishan picked it up.

"Why is the list this long?"

"Because you know how to live in the flat. You do not know how to run it."

He opened his phone and began adding reminders.

The cook would still come in the evening to make chapatis. Groceries could be ordered through the same shop they already used. The building and payment details were kept together in one folder.

That was enough for him to begin.

Ritika tried to explain everything at once. Ishan stopped her after a few minutes.

"If you tell me ten things together, I will remember two."

"Which two?"

"Probably the wrong ones."

"At least you are honest."

They divided the list across the remaining days.

Ishan brought the suitcase down from the loft and wiped away the dust. He collected two parcels for Ritika and kept her travel papers together without losing any of them.

When she showed him how to fold a formal shirt, his first attempt came out thick and uneven.

"You have folded this like a bedsheet," she said.

"It will still fit inside the suitcase."

"That is not the only goal."

She opened it and demonstrated once more.

Ishan tried again. This time he slowed down, matched the sleeves, and pressed the cloth flat with his palm.

Ritika nodded. "Better."

"You could say excellent."

"Let us not damage your progress with false praise."

As Ishan leaned over the suitcase, his hair fell towards his cheeks. He pushed it back, but it slipped forward again.

Ritika noticed his smooth face.

"You are still shaving every day."

"Almost every day."

He touched his jaw.

"The stubble looked untidy with my hair."

Without the sparse shadow, his cheeks appeared rounder and his features looked softer. His hair still covered his ears and touched his collar at the back. The change was modest, but the clean face made it easier to notice.

"It suits you," Ritika said.

Ishan looked at her. "The shave?"

"Looking neat."

"That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."

"Fold the next shirt."

He smiled and reached for it.

The tablets continued with the morning reminder on his phone. He noticed no new change beyond the small improvement near his temples. That did not worry him. The reviews had told him to wait.

Three days before Ritika's flight, she returned home later than usual.

The dining table was clear. The clothes from the drying stand had been brought inside before the evening dampness. Two plates were waiting beside a pan of egg bhurji.

Ritika stopped near the kitchen.

"Did the cook make this?"

"She sent a message saying she could not come."

"So you cooked?"

"Eggs still fall inside my area of expertise."

Ritika tasted the bhurji.

"Less chilli," she said.

"I remembered."

There was no grand meal and no sudden change in Ishan's abilities. The bread was toasted unevenly, and he had used an extra pan for no clear reason. But he had seen a missing task and handled it without calling her.

After dinner, he carried both plates to the sink.

"Leave them," Ritika said. "I will wash them after packing."

"You have packing."

"And you have work tomorrow."

"So do you."

He turned on the tap.

Ritika stood there for a moment before returning to her room.

On her final evening at home, the open suitcase occupied one side of her bed. Ishan checked its weight while Ritika looked around the room for anything she had forgotten.

"You have checked the charger three times," he said.

"Because I know what happens when I forget it."

"You buy another one."

"That is not a solution."

"It has solved the problem twice."

Ritika closed the suitcase.

"Are you worried?" he asked.

"About the assignment? A little."

"I meant about leaving the flat with me."

She sat on the edge of the bed.

"Also a little."

Ishan did not make a joke this time.

"You have been doing most things because I let you," he said. "It was convenient for me."

Ritika looked at him.

"I know."

"I cannot promise I will do everything your way."

"I do not need that."

"But I will manage."

It was not a dramatic promise. It was only the first time he had accepted that the ordinary work of their home also belonged to him.

Ritika rested her hand briefly on his shoulder.

"Call if you need help."

"I will."

"Before the situation becomes terrible."

"That condition is too subjective."

"Ishan."

"Fine. Before it becomes terrible."

The next morning, Ishan woke before his third alarm.

He carried the suitcase to the cab and travelled with Ritika to the airport. At the entrance, she checked her handbag once more while he watched the time.

"Call after you reach the hotel," he said.

"I will."

"Send the cab number."

Ritika raised an eyebrow. "Who is giving instructions now?"

"This is different. Mine are important."

She hugged him.

"Eat proper food," she said.

"Do your assignment properly."

"Keep the flat reasonably clean."

"Go before you miss your flight."

She stepped back and took the suitcase handle.

"Bye, Ishu."

"Bye, Didi."

Ishan watched until she disappeared through the entrance.

He was proud of her. He was also aware that, for the next six weeks, there would be nobody at home to notice what he had forgotten.

That evening, he unlocked the flat and entered a silence different from the usual one.

No office bag rested beside the dining chair. No voice came from the kitchen. No one asked whether he had left his cup on the centre table.

Ishan made tea and sat on the sofa.

When he finished, he placed the cup on the table out of habit.

Before going to bed, he noticed it.

He stood there for a moment.

Then he picked it up, washed it, and placed it upside down on the rack.

It was a small task.

For the first time, there was nobody else in the flat who might do it later.