Make Me Your Villain | ✓

Chapter Eleven

Hayat Azhar

He sat down right across from me, to the left of Dadi's seat.

Great. This was just too great.

His face was set in a stern expression. But if someone focused on his eyes, they could see the subtle anger that was disguised within those sage irises.

My palms started to tremble in panic and I swallowed down the grains of rice in my mouth, averting my gaze from him.

"You're home late today." Aunty Tabassum turned to look at her son with a motherly smile.

"I went out with the boys after the gym, you already know that." His response was clipped but nobody asked him further questions.

His mother's face softened. "You must be hungry. What do you want?"

Just then, he looked up.

Our eyes met.

The next moment, both of us instantly glanced away.

"Anything," he replied.

Aunty Tabassum placed chicken with gravy and naan in front of him. She then reached forward and sloshed kheer into their fancy bowl.

"Have a taste of this." She smiled up at me. "This young lady, Hayat, she made it. It's delicious."

"No, leave the kheer." Before aunty Tabassum could set the bowl down, Sameer stopped her with his hand.

She gave her son a surprised look as everyone at the table turned to glance at Sameer.

"Why? I thought you liked kheer." Asra pondered, seeming confused. "Besides, this was made as a token of apology for what happened yesterday."

Sameer's eyes narrowed slightly and he quirked a brow, turning to me as I focused down on my plate. He understood.

Asra thought this was an apology for calling him a kitten, but this was actually that 'better apology' he was begging for.

As if he'd ever beg me...

"What happened yesterday?" Laiba questioned, seeming suspicious by Asra's secret language.

Asra shook her head. "Someone ate all the kheer without leaving any for Sameer, that's all."

"Whoever that was can have it today as well," Sameer concluded, refusing the bowl of kheer.

While everyone was perplexed by Sameer's behavior, only I knew the truth. His hatred wasn't for the sweet dish, it was for the person who made that sweet dish.

"Could you pass me the jug, dadi?"

Surprise, surprise. He has manners.

Dadi turned to me. "Hayat, pass him the juice."

I blinked my eyes at Sameer. He stopped chewing at dadi's voice and clenched his jaw.

Nodding my head, I grabbed the juice jug with my left hand. The next moment, it slipped from my grip when pain shot up my arm, making me wince.

It was the same arm Shazain had pressed that night and Sameer decided to squeeze this morning.

I quickly moved my right arm instead and picked the jug. As I glanced up, Sameer was watching me but when our gazes collided, he rolled his eyes away.

"What happened to your wrist, Hayat?" Dadi questioned in astonishment, having caught sight of the frozen blood on my wrist.

Noticing everyone's attention on my hand, I gazed down as well. This morning's incident of Sameer shoving me into the bench flashed before my vision.