khushbu \ khuh-sh-booh \ (in Urdu)[noun]; fragrance; sometimes a name.
translation:"ki khushbu" means "fragrance of"
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Her head fell off the bed, her hand knocking off the glasses on the side table.
Inaaya opened her eyes grudgingly, an alarm ringing fading in and out. She groped for the snooze button with numb, heavy fingers. Turning, a warm arm under her shirt tightened around her waist. A voice muttered, "Come back..."
Inaaya looked over her shoulder, detangling the arm that belonged to a mop of hair hidden under their shared duvet. She stared at Felix, remembering the reason for her waking up before the sun had risen.
It was time to pray Fajr.
She emitted a soft chuckle—waking up before Felix was a rare occurrence, he was typically the one coaxing her out of bed.
Yawning, Inaaya fell back on his chest—which was surprisingly warm—stretching the sleep out of her muscles. Felix mumbled something, dragging the blanket closer, and swinging a leg on her.
She shook him, "Get up, it's time for Fajr."
He buried his head in the pillow, "Minute more..."
Shaking her head, Inaaya made her way to the bathroom, washing up and making wudhu quickly. The chilly water dripped on the cold floor.
She walked up to her husband, fingers reaching out to sweep away his blue-gray bangs when they touched his skin. Inaaya frowned and splayed her fingers on his forehead.
It was burning hot, excessive sweat making hair stick to his skin.
She shook Felix hard, "Oi, wake up," The more she shook him, Inaaya realised how feverish he was.
"Lixie, you have a fever. Wake up" she spoke insistently, running a hand through his soft hair.
"I'll wake up," he drawled in a raspy voice, "It's not a fever, it's just hot—"
"It's the middle of January, Park." Inaaya huffed, pulling him up, his body leaning on hers for support. His usual, comforting smell of vanilla enveloped her.
His hands 'coincidentally' found the hem of her shirt, fingers drawing circles on her skin. "Okay, maybe I am a little sick—"
"He admits it!"
"—but I can take care of myself."
Felix smiled against her cool skin as she huffed—, "I'm going to get the thermometer so shut up and don't go back to sleep,"
The quiet house echoed with the soft padding of footsteps as Inaaya returned with the thermometer in hand and stuck it in his mouth, paying no heed to his muffled protests.
Rolling her eyes at Felix, she played with his hands absent-mindedly, waiting.
