“Already filled.” His arms came under her to lift her and she shrieked, rolling away to the other side of the bed and landing on her feet. “You sadist!”
He laughed. She rounded the bed to run to the bathroom and he lunged. She shrieked again, finding her opening and throwing herself through the open door before he could turn. Amaal locked the door.
She turned, and the bathtub was empty. Dry.
“YOU FUCKING LIAR!!!”
Dark, rich laughter rang outside the door as he left her bedroom.
————————————————————
He took her to the diagnostics centre like he had once before. But this time, Amaal leaned on his arm as they sat waiting for the doctor to draw blood. This time, she smiled tiredly, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, raising the collar of her suede coat up and around her neck, keeping his hand there to shield her eyes from seeing the horrifying sight of the needle going into her elbow. This time, as she turned away from the pain, she did so into his neck.
“Done.” He said this time, rubbing her shoulder and helping her slip the coat arm back on.
This time, he took her to breakfast instead of home.
“I don’t want to eat…” she whined, feeling half groggy, half needy.
“Drink this.” He settled into the driver’s seat, pushing a mitti kullad into her hand. The spicy scent of chai filled the car as he closed it and turned the heater on. In this summer. But she needed the heat.
“It’s hot so I will drink it.” She croaked, pushing her face down to inhale. He was already sipping and looking like he relished it. Amaal’s mouth dropped open — “You are a chai person?”
“Hmm.” He smiled over his kullad at her.
“You could have told me yesterday morning…”
He just sipped quietly.
She didn’t know how to make good chai, never needed to. Coffee was her poison of choice. Now, she wanted to learn. She took a sip and the strong ginger and cardamom hit her whole face. She wasn’t a fan of the taste but the sinuses did open up. Her throat felt soothed.
“Nice?” He asked.
She nodded, holding the kullad in the cups of both palms and drinking. It was over before she knew it and a knock startled her. Amaal glanced at her window and Samar clicked it open. The man passed a paper plate of toast triangles smelling of butter and jam, and then two more kullads.
“I don’t want to eat.”
“Hmm.” He pressed a triangle of jam sandwich into her hand that was perfectly crisped.
“Samar…”
“Drink this and eat that.” He handed her another kullad of tea. She pouted, not even being able to remain angry at him.
“Samar…” She whined.
“Come on, one bite,” he circled her wrist and pushed it to her lips. She opened her mouth and bit into the sandwich. It was crisp outside but gooey soft inside. And smelled of coal.
“This is different…”
“He makes the jam sandwich and then toasts it on open fire,” he pointed to the small hole-in-the-wall shop. “See.”
“Mmm…” she ate the sandwich quietly, eyeing the man make a dozen jam toasts on open coal fire and run out within a minute. She was not about to admit that the combination of spicy tea and buttery-sweet jam toast was a surprisingly good fit.
“Did you inform at the Secretariat that you are not coming?”
“No, why would I?”
“Then go with 103 degree fever, that sore throat and… the headache will return soon, by the way.”
