under the covers [hs au]

chapter fifty-seven.

harry is going to come back. keep your eyes peeled and stay on your toes. you know I'm unpredictable :)

also if you haven't read chapter 56, make sure that you have! thank you so much for reading. please leave comments so i can know how you're feeling. i love you all.

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January greeted the streets with a blanket of snow, accompanying the stray autumn leaves.

In Samira's arms was a calm Laila, adorned in a brown cotton onesie and bangles on her chubby wrists—both from Samira khala, just for Laila.

"Is she always this quiet?" Samira asked, rubbing Laila's rising chest. "Only heard her cry a few times."

Mahnoor curled next to Samira on the couch, holding a warm bottle of formula for Laila. Mahnoor's hair was in knots and cracks opened on the skin of her hands.

"That's only when you're here." She grunted, lifting Laila from Samira's arms. "What are you doing today? How's Zafri?"

Before visiting Mahnoor, Samira dressed in her professional clothes—black blazer and slacks, because she had a makeup appointment at a nikkah in an hour.

And Zafri was always around. They drove around Columbus at least once a week, dipping in and out of their favorite restaurants. When he'd come over, he had a recipe he wanted to try. As she put together the ingredients, he'd linger around, doing what he could to help—but Samira had control issues, swiping Zafri's hand out of the way whenever he touched anything in her kitchen. And with Sakinah all grown, they spent a lot of time playing with her together.

"Have you seen him?"

"No. He hasn't texted me in like . . . a week." Samira shook her head, glowering. "He's not doing great."

"Ever thought of visiting him?" Mahnoor raised her eyebrows. "Didn't you have a stomach bug last week, and he came by?"

Samira called Zafri that particular morning with a groggy voice, saying she couldn't make it to lunch, so he came to visit her. Messy hair and an unwashed face—Samira was embarrassed Zafri had witnessed her at such a low point. He responded sweetly: I think I have to see you at your best and worst, right?

"But Zafri was so . . . serious when I called him." Samira sighed, remembering the chill of his low voice. "I don't want to be invasive."

"I think he'd appreciate it. If you weren't afraid, you would've visited him the same day. Make him get used to you looking after him, too," Mahnoor reassured. "You weren't used to it at one point."

"Maybe."

"Is there any other reason you're not seeing him?" Mahnoor chuckled, nudging her shoulder.

Familiar with the over-zealous feeling in her chest, Samira cringed at herself.

Tension. Prolonged silence, the brushing of hands and shoulders, the quick glancing at lips, and inept stutters. His quiet breathing and silvery voice made her throat close up. Her heart bubbled every time Zafri looked at her, like a volcano waiting to erupt, and Samira couldn't help but undress him with her eyes.

Samira thanked God she kept a foot of space between them. Otherwise, she would've already pushed Zafri up against the wall. Touch was one hell of a drug, and it took Samira too much to sober up.

Feeling her insides cripple, Samira ran her palm over her face: "I literally can't be alone in a room with him without being able to breathe, Mano."