I shake my head, done with his antics when I notice her silhouette peeking down on me from above and I hang up on him without another word.
I wave out my car’s window to let her know I am here when she calls me and my car’s speaker fill with her voice.
God, I love her voice.
“Am I dreaming or is that you sitting in your car in front of my office?” she questions and I can tell she didn’t expect to see me here
“So you dream about me?” I smirk
“Answer my question.”
I get out of my car, standing tall in front of her window so that she can see me.
“Yes, I am. Now come down, baby.”
“Why did you come?” she asks, and her voice is so small it makes me want to hug her
“I told you I would.”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute. I take it as my chance to repeat my question.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say.
“What question?”
I gulp. “Do you dream about me?”
“All the time.”
Aisha Kapoor
The truth slips out of my mouth faster than I expected. Something about him showing up when I least expected him to makes me feel…vulnerable. I know he said that he would wait and come, but I didn’t believe it wholeheartedly even if I wanted to. My heart just wouldn’t, and I don’t blame it, to be fair.
So, I let him know that it would be 2 a.m. by the time I was done with my work even though I finished my work long ago. My stubborn self wanted to test him. I fully believed that hearing that, he would leave for home.
He stays silent on the call after I just admitted that I dream about him. What I didn’t tell him is that he is the only one I have ever dreamed about. I either dream about him or nothing at all.
I can hear my heartbeat and his too, and I know that these three words meant a great deal to him.
“I—” he starts, and I cut him off.
“I am coming downstairs,” I tell him before hanging up.
I collect my bag, clutching it close to me like a shield, and in the elevator taking me down, I keep staring at my reflection to see if I look good.
My hair is a little frizzy, and my lipstick is barely there, so I touch it up slightly with a liner. I don’t know why he is having such an effect on me right now. I don’t care if he finds me attractive, is what I keep telling myself because realisticallyspeaking it doesn’t matter because I plan on leaving him at the end of this three-month tenure.
But even if I keep telling this to myself right when I wake up and before I go to sleep, the truth remains that the way he looks at me matters. The way his eyes light up when he looks at me matters.
I take a deep breath as I walk out of the office building, and there he is, standing outside his car with his arms crossed at his chest. Even after working all day, he looks so handsome. Like an angel. His eyes are warm when he looks at me, his hair a tousled mess, the top two buttons of his shirt are open, giving me a peek at his chest, and there’s a soft smile on his lips. You won’t be able to catch a sight of it if you don’t pay much attention to him.
“Hi,” he says, as I near him before taking my bag from me.
“Hi,” I let out, and it comes out as a sigh. Like I am seeing him after a very long time.
His eyes roam all over my face, as if searching for something, before he brushes my hair slightly, and I let him do it. I tell myself that tonight is the only night I will let him do this, let him be close to me in this way that feels less physical and more emotional.
Once satisfied with whatever he was doing, he leans down to kiss my forehead, and I close my eyes, not only to soak up the feeling but also to not let the tears gather in my eyes.
