Beautiful disaster (completed)

Chapter 14 - Strange Comfort

As I slowly open my eyes, a throbbing headache greets me, making me wince in discomfort. I desperately want to close my eyes again, hoping for some relief from the pain. But as I glance around the room, confusion washes over me like a tidal wave. This is definitely not my room, nor my bed. Panic starts to bubble up inside me as I try to piece together the fragments of my memory.

"Where am I?" I mumble to myself, my voice barely audible in the unfamiliar surroundings.

As I struggle to recall the events leading up to this moment, a flicker of recognition dances in my mind. I remember coming to Kabir's apartment to talk, had heated argument and angrily walk away. But how did I end up here? The memories slowly start to clear, like fog vanishing under the sun. I remember the rain pouring down, drenching me to the bone. And then, Kabir chasing after me, his voice filled with concern. He had caught up to me, his arms wrapping around me protectively, shielding me from the storm. I had fought against his touch, my anger still burning within me. But he had carried me, his steps sure and determined, until we reached his apartment. But after that, it's all a blur.

Rubbing my forehead, I realize that my own childish behavior must have caused me to fall ill. My mind had betrayed me, shutting down as exhaustion and emotions overwhelmed me. Lost in my thoughts, I'm startled when Kabir enters the room, his face etched with concern.

"How are you feeling now, Kiara?" Kabir asks, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Yesterday when you suddenly passed out, I didn't know what to do?"

I blink my eyes a few times, trying to process the fact that Kabir is actually caring for me. Is this some kind of dream? No way, he's probably just mocking me like he always does.

"I am feeling better," I lie, not seeing the point in telling him the truth. After all, he's not a doctor.

Kabir reaches out and touches my forehead to check my temperature. "You are having a fever and saying that you are fine," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief.

I groan inwardly, realizing that he's right. I hate it when he's right. It's infuriating.

"Where is my phone?" I ask Kabir, my voice filled with urgency. "What time is it?"

Kabir hands me my phone, his eyes still fixed on me. "Your husband called multiple times yesterday," he says, his tone filled with curiosity. "I didn't know you were married. When did that happen?"

Confusion washes over me like a tidal wave, and I furrow my brows in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice laced with confusion.

I quickly glance at the screen, noticing multiple missed calls from Maya, and embarrassment floods my cheeks as I realize what he's referring to. In a moment of sheer stupidity, Maya had saved her number as "husband" and I completely forgotten about it. I hadn't bothered changing it because I never expected anyone else to see it.

"Um, it's my roommate's number," I stammer, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. A mischievous grin tugs at Kabir's lips as he teases, "I didn't know you were into girls. That's why you never liked anyone in school."

I feel a mixture of annoyance and amusement bubbling within me. "Shut up, Kabir," I retort, playfully rolling my eyes. Little does he know that he was the reason I never liked anyone in school. I had a secret crush on him, hidden away in the depths of my heart.

I raise an eyebrow and ask, "Wait, how'd you guess my password?"

"Didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes for that one. I just entered your date of birth."

He remembered my birthday even after all these years. It was a small detail, but it meant something to me.

As I pondered over his ability to remember such details, my phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. It was a message notification from Maya, asking why I hadn't picked up her call yesterday. Panic set in as I realized I hadn't informed Maya about my whereabouts. I quickly sent her a message, assuring her that I would call her in the evening. Then, I open the Ola app to book a cab.

But Kabir interrupts my frantic actions. "I made poha for breakfast. Freshen up and have it," he says, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"I am not hungry, Kabir," I say, trying to sound firm. "I am just booking a cab. I will go home and rest." But as if on cue, my stomach growls loudly, betraying my lie.

Kabir chuckles at my stomach's protest. "Have breakfast before leaving," he insists. "I made enough for two, and I hate food going to waste."

I feel a surge of irritation at his bossy tone. Who does he think he is, ordering me around? But deep down, I know he's right. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, and my body needs nourishment.

With an accompanied sigh of defeat much more dramatic than necessary. "Fine, But only because I don't want your precious poha to go to waste."

As I make my way to the bathroom, I can't help but reflect on the complicated relationship I have with Kabir. It's a rollercoaster ride of emotions, frustration, and confusion. After washing my face and changing into my clothes, I join Kabir at the dining table.

As I sit down at the table, the aroma of the freshly cooked poha fills the air. It's a familiar scent, one that reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings and my mother's loving hands preparing breakfast for us. I reluctantly take a bite, surprised by how delicious it tastes. I was always very bad at making poha; sometimes it turned out too salty, and other times it had a completely different taste.

As we continue to eat in silence, the only sound being the clinking of our spoons against the plates.

the silence between us is both comforting and unsettling. It's as if we're both afraid to break the fragile peace that has settled upon us.

The warmth of the food and his caring gesture begin to melt away the anger I had been holding onto. And as we share this breakfast together, I can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

In our school days, Kabir used to bring my favorite snacks. He knew how much I loved poha, and he would always make sure to share it with me.

I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn't left. What if I had confronted Kabir about what I overheard? Would things be different now? Would we still be friends?