#krish gujral + amara gujral 001

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

CLOSED STARTER

LOCATION: Cafe FOR: @amaraxgujral

"You're late," Krish said without looking up from his pad thai as Amara slid into the booth across from him. "Five minutes late, actually." He'd been sitting here alone, stabbing at noodles and wondering why he'd agreed to this lunch in the first place. Amara had been relentless with her texts - guilt trips about family time and how he never made an effort anymore. Eventually saying yes had seemed less exhausting than her constant pestering. The restaurant was packed with the usual lunch crowd, which was exactly why he'd picked it. Loud enough that nobody would overhear their conversation, busy enough that they'd blend in with everyone else grabbing quick meals between work meetings. "So how are you doing?" he asked, finally meeting her eyes. His tone was flat, almost bored. Krish took a long sip of his Thai iced tea, already regretting this whole thing. He wasn't built for family catch-ups anymore, especially not the kind where he had to pretend everything was normal.

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"A mug would be perfect. You could sell them at the hospital gift shop," Krish said, watching her shake her head at herself. Her pottery studio joke actually got a small smile out of him, mostly because he could picture her covered in clay and completely overthinking the whole process. But then she turned it back on him, asking about his life here, and the familiar weight of explaining himself settled in his chest. He'd gotten good at deflecting these conversations over the years, but Amara never let him get away with surface-level answers. "What does it look like? Pretty simple, actually. Work, decent apartment, no one telling me what I should be doing with my life." He picked up his fork again, more out of habit than hunger. "The whole concept of happiness ... that's your department," he said with a shrug. "I'm not miserable. Do I look miserable? I just made various choices and I accept what comes with them." The nudge under the table felt like old times, when she used to do that during family dinners to get his attention. "If anyone's deflecting, it's you. You talk about letting other stuff in, but what does that actually mean for you?"

Amara let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and an exhale, and shook her head with a faint smirk. “‘Regular Amara introspective.’ I should get that printed on a mug.” She reached for her water and took a sip, eyes resting on him as he finally looked up—really looked at her. It softened something in her posture. “What happens now?” she echoed, her voice more matter-of-fact than philosophical this time. “I think... I just stop ignoring it. The part of me that wants something more than just being the one with all the answers in the room. I don’t have a blueprint or some five-year plan. But I’m done pretending the work is enough when it clearly isn’t anymore.”

She gave a small shrug, nothing dramatic in the gesture. “I’m not quitting my job, I’m not running off to start a pottery studio or anything,” she added with a smirk, “but maybe I start letting some of that other stuff in. And if I completely embarrass myself doing it, well—you’ll be the first person I call to say you were right.” Her tone shifted slightly, more curious now as she watched him. “But you’re not getting off the hook that easy.” She nudged his foot under the table, a familiar motion from years past. “What about you, Krish? You left all of the family stuff behind—Toronto, the noise, the pressure. You’ve built this life here on your terms. What does that actually look like now?” Her voice was quiet as she added, not accusingly, just genuinely: “Are you happy?”

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"Yeah, well, you've got that look down to a science," Krish said, stabbing at his noodles again. He could feel her studying him like she used to when they were kids and she was trying to figure out what he'd broken this time. Some things never changed. The comment about busy carrying weight hit closer than he wanted to admit - she always had this annoying ability to see through his deflections. He'd perfected the art of staying occupied enough that people stopped asking deeper questions, but apparently that trick didn't work on family. Her explanation about work being the safe choice made sense in that Amara way - logical but wrapped in all this self-analysis that made his head hurt. She'd always been like this, turning simple decisions into philosophical debates about what people really wanted from life. But there was something different about how she said it this time, less polished and more like she actually didn't have all the answers. "Not overly introspective," he said, managing something close to a smile. "Just regular Amara introspective." He set his fork down and actually looked at her properly. "And yeah, we've gotten pretty good at the unsaid things over the years." The honesty in her voice caught him off guard - not the forced reunion kind but something rawer. "What happens now that you've figured out you want something else?"

As she slipped into the seat across from him, blazer folded over her arm and a touch of city-wind still clinging to her hair. She hadn’t even looked at the menu yet—her attention was already on him, on the way he was poking at his noodles like they’d personally offended him. “I’ll order in a second,” she murmured, almost as an afterthought. “Looks like you’ve been here a while though,” she commented, the apologetic tone in her voice evident. When he answered her question with “I’m doing alright,” she tilted her head slightly—not enough to challenge him, just enough to register that she heard the way he said it. Heard what he wasn’t saying.

“You always did let ‘busy’ carry the weight of too many things,” she said gently, folding her hands on the table between them. “I’m not going to press you on it. But you know I see it, right?”And when he asked about her own words, her mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What did I mean?” she echoed, like she was testing the question before answering it. Her eyes dropped briefly to the table, then lifted back to him, steady now.

“I meant that I’ve spent a lot of years choosing work because it was the one thing that didn’t disappoint me. It gave back. It made sense. But lately I’ve been wondering if I built something so solid around myself that I forgot how to want anything else.” She shrugged, quietly. “I don’t know what that ‘something else’ even is yet. Just that if I want it… I might have to learn how to want it out loud.” She watched him push another bite around, her tone softening as she added, “That probably sounds overly introspective to you. But you asked.” A pause. “And I’d rather be honest with you than let everything stay unsaid again.”

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"Work calls, right?" he said. "Yeah, some days feel like that." He glanced up at her tired smile, recognizing something familiar in it that he didn't want to acknowledge. Krish pushed another bite of noodles around his plate, buying time while her words settled uncomfortably in his chest. She was doing that thing again, speaking in metaphors about treading water and things sinking, like life was some philosophical puzzle instead of just a series of choices you made and lived with. He'd made his choices. Left Toronto, left the family business, left her and everyone else behind because staying felt like suffocating. Now she was here asking how he was really doing, and the honest answer wasn't something he could say out loud. "I'm doing alright. Work keeps me busy enough." Her question hung there waiting for an answer, and he could feel her watching him the way she used to when they were younger and she was trying to figure out if he was lying about breaking something or skipping school. Some habits never changed, apparently. "What did you mean about wanting something that might not come easy again?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink. "That's pretty vague, even for you."

Amara slid into the booth and let out a soft sigh, folding her hands in her lap. She didn’t rush to meet Krish’s eyes right away—there was something in the noise of the restaurant that felt both comforting and painfully distant, like a reminder of a world she wasn’t fully part of anymore. "I'm sorry, I was genuinely on my way but a client called and had a meltdown before I could leave. I got here as quickly as I could." She thought about how much she missed the idea of family—not just the gatherings or the words, but the way it used to feel, a steady thing beneath everything else. That sense of belonging. Lately, that feeling had been harder to hold onto, slipping through her fingers like sand.

She knew, deep down, that Krish probably resented her being here—that maybe he wished she’d stayed far away, out of sight, out of his life. And maybe, sometimes, she wondered the same. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, more to herself than to him. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Wanting something you know might never come easy again." She took another glance at him before placing her order for the same pad thai as him. Amara paused for a moment, searching for the right words beneath the weight of his gaze. “Honestly? Some days feel like I’m just treading water,” she said quietly, voice soft but steady. “Trying to keep things from sinking under, you know?” She gave a small, tired smile. “But I guess that’s everyone these days.” She glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “And you? How are you really doing?”