Billionaire's Prostitute - Part 1

- Eight -

Ohm

I opened the drawer in my room and took out an old worn off wallet. On opening it, I again saw the same picture that I have been seeing since the day I woke up after the accident.

Memories.

Memories play an important role in determining everything around us. Nobody will know better than me how it feels when you don't know what people around you are feeling towards you. What was your last conversation with them? Whether it ended on a good note or in a bad note? Were you on that hospital bed because of anyone of them or because you tried saving anyone of them?

That is just a fraction of dilemma you face with the people around you.

But what about the people who aren't around you? But you see them in your life in different ways. Like an unknown shirt in wardrobe, a photo in wallet, a name jotted on journal, a nightmare that doesn't allow you to sleep, a dream that urges you to go back to bed, a laughter that shake your core, a cry that doesn't leave your subconscious and a voice that keeps ringing in your ear...

OHM!

There... It's ringing again...

"Ohm?" I turned and saw Nanon standing on the door.

I kept the wallet back immediately closing the drawer. "How dare you walk up to my room without permission?" I asked walking to him. "And what did you dare call me?"

"What?" he gulped. "I... didn't... I didn't say anything." He stuttered taking a step back.

He braved to look up at me and then his eyes lingered on all the bandages from my head till my feet.

I smirked. And dragged my injured self to the table where I could smell good food.

To think that I forgot someone is not true.

I may still have something to do with this guy... But what is it?

Why do I get so many questions in mind?

Questions like, how do I know that he can cook?

"Hmmm... Smells good." I said and took a seat. "Serve for me." I turned to look at him.

Questions like, how do I know that I will like what he will cook?

He looked back at me confused.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

I asked plainly. He shivered at my tone but hurriedly came forward and started serving my food.

I observed that there was no beef or prawns in the meal while I specifically asked James to fill the refrigerator with these things.

Questions like, why does he know what all I cannot eat?

"I like to eat prawn curry. There is no beef too." I said.

He frowned at me but did not say anything. And when I stared back, he got back to his poker face.

"Sit and eat. You will need energy to kill me." I said and turned another plate in front of mine.

When he did not move, I simply looked at him. And I guess that was enough, because he slowly sat on the opposite chair and started serving food for himself.

There are many other questions in my mind.

He ate slowly. I observed the bruises on his hands and face had healed a bit. But they were still there.

His dimple is visible even when he is just chewing. His eyes are not big but not small either. And very expressive too. Unlike my dead eyes.

Sometimes these questions bother me, like, why do my hazy memory recall this face?