“I’ll start in a minute.”
“Ten minutes have gone by since you said that.” Begumjaan chided. “Come on, Amaal, start. Get your plate. You must be hungry too.” She looked up at Samar. “Where are you coming from?”
“Party work. How was the offsite?”
“Fun.” Adil cleaned his plate with his last bite. “It was a good idea to take a break. Let’s make it an annual thing.”
“Hmm.”
“Go get your plates, both of you.” Begumjaan grabbed them each by their shoulders and pushed them towards the table. Amaal walked, feeling his big body behind hers as she wove through the crowd of standing people. She grabbed a plate from the stack on the table and turned around to hand it over to him but he was walking around the verandah and towards the main door of the house. There was something off about how he walked. Did she notice him swaying?
Without giving herself a chance to rethink it, she put the plate down and set off after him.
————————————————————
It was indecent, she knew. But she stood outside the bathroom, hearing retching noises. He was sick. Amaal heard the telltale hiss of water running. And waited. Water kept running.
She crossed her arms across her chest, strolling across the small space outside the bathroom, trying not to look like a stalker when he opened the door. She passed the door, and that’s when it chose to open. His face popped, and she stilled, feeling their faces so close to each other. His hair was wet, in this cold. Like he had run water all over his face and hair.
“Are you sick?”
He closed the door behind him, stepping around her and into the tight alley. The small hanging light on the wooden ceiling highlighted his face enough to give her a clear view now. His eyes were smaller than usual. There was something off about his neck; he held it bent. That is why their faces had come so close!
“Samar?” She craned her neck to check the side of his head. Her hand went to the space without thought. “Are you hurt?”
It was swollen, the skin under his hairline. Hard to the touch. His hand caught hers.
Amaal met his eyes.
He stared.
His eyes let down a blink, two blinks, like he was sleepy.
“Let’s go to the hospital.”
He shook his head, pulling her hand down. “I am fine.”
“But…”
He moved away from her and walked down the alley. She followed him. He went through the small carpeted hall that was warm and cozy with the fireplace burning, crossing it to open a door made of lightwood. Amaal was concerned enough now to keep following him.
“Go, eat.” His order came, but not his eyes, as he stepped inside the bedroom and began to close the door. She held it — “Not before you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I have a head injury. I need to sit down for a while. Now go.”
“I am sitting right here.” She pushed through the door and eyed her surroundings. There was a small single bed and a two-seater settee to the side. She took the settee. He shut the door and walked to the bed, sitting down on its edge, eyes wide open.
Time ticked. In silence.
“I am better. Go now.” His voice scraped.
“How did you get a head injury?”
He did not answer.
Amaal shot to her feet — “Samar, I am so done with this not answering and these Hmms!” He winced — “Don’t raise your voice.”
“Sorry.” She sat down beside him, trying to see if his wound had become worse. It looked red. Had it looked red before? “Did somebody hit you?” She touched it again, and the swell felt harder, bigger. He pulled his head away from her fingers.
