A Knife on His Lap|| Bodyguard AU

Notes

~Nariya Patel~

Stretching my limbs as much as my injury would allow, my nostrils caught the scent that filled the room, and right on cue, my stomach growled. Retrieving the dishes, I opened the heating casserole to reveal beautiful, flowery swirls of cooked eggs in hot broth. A note next to the dish indicated that this delicacy was called "Egg Drop Soup," featuring a nourishing broth with beaten egg slowly swirled into it, creating enchanting blossoms in the soup. My mouth watered as I marveled at the delicious sight before me. A few spoons later and a burnt tongue afterward, I had finished the entire dish.

A satiable gruff escaped my lips as I glanced at the dreaded part of my daily meal these days – horrid-looking pills awaiting my digestion. Taking a deep breath, I offered a silent prayer to Hanuman, the Hindu god known for courage and strength, and swallowed the pills down my throat. The bitter taste lingered on my taste buds, and I washed it down with a flood of water. Once that settled, I picked up the notes, adorned with his magnificent penmanship.

"Good morning Nari,

I hope you're feeling better today. I'll be going out to run some errands and will be back by lunchtime. If you need anything, feel free to explore the kitchen; it's equipped with everything you might require. I've left your crutches by the bed, so be cautious and take your time before getting up. And please, no matter what happens, avoid putting pressure on your injured leg.

P.S. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the dish from last night. Indian food isn't my expertise, and it was my first time attempting something like that.

Alexie"

As my fingertips traversed the lines of his signature, I observed the distinctive blend of elegance and sharpness, giving it an authoritative undertone. It was evident that when he wielded his pen, it symbolized a sense of purpose, perhaps unintentional in our context. The notion lingered that certain habits, even those as subtle as the stroke of a pen, proved resilient in their persistence.

I surveyed my room, noting that everything was meticulously arranged in its designated space. Even the book I had been reading last night, forgotten next to my pillow, was perfectly aligned on the bedside table against the wall. It became apparent that this man was an organizational perfectionist—somewhat cliché, yet oddly fitting for his lively personality. In fact, it puzzled me when I had seen his disheveled state on the day I woke up. Truth be told, I found myself preferring that side of him more; it seemed, how should I describe it, more human.

Anticipating his penchant for organization, I made a fortunate guess that the drawer of the bedside table would be stocked with appropriate stationary and other necessities. To my delight, my guess was spot on, as I discovered everything from notepads to pens, and even stickers and glitters neatly arranged in the drawer. A chuckle escaped my lips as I observed that everything, once again, was in pastel colors. It seemed like he was genuinely making an effort to understand the mind of a teenage girl.

Pulling out a notepad, I started to write with my non-dominant hand. It proved a bit challenging to maintain a flowing and legible script, yet I persisted in making it as comprehensive as possible.

I signed it with my name, a frown forming on my brows as I compared our notes side by side. His exhibited perfect penmanship on beautifully embossed cream sheets, while mine appeared more as a collection of scribbled letters on pastel paper. Even my signature looked crooked compared to his flawless strokes. I shook my head, reminding myself that this was to be expected, considering I was using my non-dominant hand. I could only write a little with it, having been taught to write with my right hand in elementary school, a response to the prevailing bias against left-handedness, deeming it a sign of imperfection. I couldn't help but recall how my mum had rushed and threatened to sue the school after noticing me practicing writing with my right hand one day.