A Piece Of His Heart

Twenty-two

Eliza

I pushed the rice around my plate, not wanting to eat them anymore. I was so freaking mad at that man I had for a husband! I go away for four days and he doesn't even bother texting me first. All our conversation had been was 'hi', 'how are you?', 'what are you doing?', and all the texts were sent from me.

Yep. He doesn't care, at all. He was probably enjoying the silence and spending all his time working without anyone nagging him for it.

"You're not eating, Eliza." My mother pointed out, sticking her spoon up in my direction. I just gave up altogether and dropped my spoon to fold my arms.

"I'm not hungry," I grumbled out the reply and downed a glass of water, hoping to cool down the rage inside of me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was so freaking stupid!

Then when she got up and started collecting the plates, I helped her take everything into the kitchen because I needed a distraction. She smiled knowingly when I began to scrub the plate with more force than necessary.

"Dil nahi lag raha na Waleed ke beghair?" She asked as she came to stand on my other side and plucked the plate out of my hands.

*"You aren't liking it without Waleed, right?"

"Filhal to dil kar raha hai ke munh tod dun unka." I mumbled to myself and scowled at the image of him that formed in my head.

*"Right now I feel like breaking his face."

"What?" My mother's eyebrows knitted and I inwardly sighed in relief that she hadn't heard what I said.

And just because I wanted to be petty, I grabbed my phone and punched in the words 'I', 'HATE', and 'YOU' in three different texts before sending them to him. Just because I still had an ounce of love left for him, I didn't block him.

I marched up to my room and fell back on the bed with a long sigh. It was around ten in the night and sleep was nowhere in sight for me.

And because I couldn't be held accountable for my actions, I was obviously going to blame Waleed.

But still, a smile got the better of me when my phone started blowing up with texts and vibrating beside me. I read all his texts through the lock screen, not wanting to see his texts so quick or at all.

I'm mad at him, and he should know it.

Waleed: What?

Waleed: Why?

Waleed: Eliza what happened?

Waleed: Are you mad at me?

And that was the last text he sent before he disappeared. I bit my lip to keep a smile in, though I ended up giving in until I was grinning at the phone like a mad woman.

My phone started ringing, this time with a call and I contemplated what to do before letting it go unanswered. I knew I was being more of a child than a twenty-five year old woman.

And an hour or two later— I was too deep in sleep to keep note— my phone rang again. I looked at it with sleepy eyes, seeing Waleed's caller ID flashing on the screen.