#arch.

A dull thrum had long become background noise, blending with murmurings of attendants and fellow passengers. Lights overhead were dim with mint tea and a traditional Arabic mezze set before her- perks of her parents' insistence on first class. If she'd been alone then business class would have reigned, but alas she'd brought someone, and the desire to be good hosts was a force Meena knew better than to question. Of course they hadn't a clue how much Callen's frame probably appreciated the extra room, but then it again it was merely one omission among countless others.

In a handful of hours they were due to land in her home; Bengaluru, and the latest wave of nerves had fluttered to the surface. It seemed there was no end to the tiny differences in culture, yet she gave her best attempt at reiterating the main ones: how to greet her family, not using elders' first names unless invited, no public affection, accepting food and trying everything once, let elders lead conversations, help without being asked, look to her if he's unsure...Then there was one other thing.