“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have upma.”
“You don’t have upma?” He raised his brows. “That’s staple…”
“Yuck.”
“We need to work on your breakfast options.”
“We need to work on your belief that we can work on my breakfast options.”
“We need to work on your attitude about my belief that we will work on your breakfast options.”
“We need to work on your… everything!”
“Everything?” He smiled.
“Everything! What is this white shirt and black pants again? Did we or did we not talk about coloursyearsago?” She got to her feet, walking into the kitchen with her crockery. Samar splayed back on his chair, taking a moment to admire her. Swinging ponytail, sass in every step, shoulders with quiet muscles tapering to lithe arms holding bowl and plate.
Was the good inside him so good that he got to keep her?
She kept ranting about his clothing choices and his untamed stubble and he didn’t retain most of it, liking the sound of her voice in his ears after a long, heavy work day. Samar got to his feet and padded to the kitchen, the sound of her voice getting louder and louder. He turned inside the door and she was popping a tablet into her mouth.
“What are you taking?” He grabbed her wrist.
“Dolo, Daaxsaab.” She showed it to him. Then threw it into her mouth and drank down the water.
“What happened?”
She rubbed her eye. “Headache.”
“And you have been cooking and talking to me all this while?”
“I have done rallies with you guys with headaches.” She grinned. Samar scowled, roving his eyes over her face. Suddenly the links clicked. Her makeup was still on because she was hurting and tired. He set his palms over her forehead and the back of her neck.
“Why do you feel hot?”
“Because I am?” She popped that godforsaken dimple at him. He did not give in, grabbing her chin and flashing his phone torch into her eye.
“Samar…” she began to push away but he held her face steady. “Amaal.”
Her pupils were dilated.
“Is your throat hurting?” He circled her jaw and pressed on her glands.
She swallowed. “It may start hurting but you never know, a Dolo and a night’s sleep can work wonders.”
Samar stepped back, looking at her. It was not about to work wonders because he sensed something else. He did not say it out yet.
“Ok,” he softened his voice. “Let’s see tomorrow. Now go to bed. I will…” he glanced at the long platform that she had made a mess of. “Clean this up.”
“I can clean it up…”
“No.”
She began to move and he grabbed her shoulders, turning her and pushing her down the kitchen, the hall and into her bedroom.
