I can't sleep.
Between four and six in the morning, I've realized, is the worst time, as I stare at the clock on the wall. Its hands seem to mock my futile attempts to find rest. Darkness gradually fades and light seeps into the room. Sometimes my body shakes from the cold, and other times I feel hot, sweat dripping down my back and creating a sticky mess. With a frustrated groan, I toss aside the sheet and sit up.
Nausea grips my stomach. I instinctively put a hand over my mouth, wondering if I'll be able to make it to the washroom in time. But it subsides as quickly as it came. I've spent most of the morning puking my guts out, so I guess there's nothing left.
I wish the pounding in my head could go away too, but I know it won't. If anything, it's going to get worse. At least it's better than the body ache I felt last time. That hurt like a bitch.
Just as I'm about to take a shower, there's a knock on the door. I stay silent, slowly easing back into the bed.
“Mira, are you ready?”
“Nope. I am not going,” I answer, my throat tight with discomfort.
“Why not?”
“I don't want to.”
“Not again,” he mutters before adding, “I'm coming in.”
Before I can stop him, he pushes the door open. I quickly pull the sheet over me and glare at him, embarrassment gnawing at me.
“I didn't give you the permission to enter.”
“Withdrawal?” he asks, ignoring my words.
I sneeze in response.
“Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No, I can manage.”
He takes a step forward, and I shake my head, clutching the sheet tightly.
“Stay away. I stink.”
He sits on the bed anyway and places his hand over my forehead.
I swat it away. “Seriously, leave me alone.”
“But—”
His hesitation makes me sigh. “I'll call you if I need anything.”
He nods and exits the room.
Showering makes me anxious. I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me as I scrub my skin. Rationalizing that it's just a weird withdrawal effect, I try to calm my racing heart, but the unease persists. Every drop of water from the steaming shower feels like a prying eye, scrutinizing my every move. I turn off the water when my fingertips begin to wrinkle and wrap myself in a bathrobe before stepping into the room.
My eyes land on my reflection in the mirror, and I can't help but cringe. I still look like crap, and to top it off, there's a giant pimple on my chin. Gosh, why do I have to be such a disaster all the time? I grab the hair dryer and start blow-drying my hair, my thoughts drifting back to yesterday when Rihan surprised me by doing it. The gesture was kinda strange but sweet, undeniably sweet. It made me feel things I had never felt before. If he keeps being so caring and understanding, I am bound to fall—
No, that's just laughable.
Rihan walks around looking like he stepped out of a movie poster, while I feel like I have crawled out of a ditch.
It's impossible for us.
I shouldn't even indulge in such a thought.
I throw on some random clothes and leave my room, but my steps falter when I see Rihan sitting on the couch.
YOU ARE READING
Of Lies & Love | on hold
RomanceMira lives like a princess, who has everything and more- until her life takes a turn for the worse when she succumbs to the allure of parties and drugs. Her family, fed up with her train wreck of a life, takes a drastic decision to marry her off. Sh...