𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

23

Airah POV:

A cup of tea is the only reason I get out of the bed. I'm not a morning person and today is the worst morning because I'm having a headache. Arsalan is nowhere to be seen in the house and I want him to be the last thing on my mind too. Because last night when he held me by my waist I swear I felt something in my stomach. But what was it? I think it was hunger, because I didn't had dinner last night. So probably it was hunger.

I glance at the clock as I take my cup and sit on one of the high stool. It's only 9:15. I wonder what time Arsalan goes to work. Yesterday after Adam dropped us off at this house the only wish I had was "Oh I hope Adam converts to Islam." Because he is such a kind soul. May Allah guide him to the right path. The way he kept me entertained throughout the ride yesterday, not making me feel like an outsider really made me happy.

The sound of the door opening jerks me out of my thoughts, but I refuse to meet his gaze. After all, wasn't he supposed to be the last thing on my mind?

I decide to play the "I'm too busy for your nonsense" card, focusing intensely on my tea as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Retrieving a bottle from the fridge he settles across from me, trying so hard to be inconspicuous that he might as well be wearing a neon sign that says "Look at me!" But I don't. I keep my eyes fixed on my cup, feeling his gaze burning into me.
 
With careful nonchalance, I lean against the counter, feigning disinterest, while he, undeterred, places the bottle before me with a decisive thud and clearing his throat. I remain steadfast. My whole attention on the cup of tea in my hand. He clears his throat again which is followed by some fake coughs this time. Leaning on the counter he stares at me, his face inches away from mine. "Kaha the tum?" I ask, my eyes roaming around the kitchen counter behind him when I notice that he has an oven too. I'll make sure to bake something in it later. "Gym Gaya tha." He says and I finally look at him. His white shirt clinging to his chest like a second skin, making his abs more visible because of the sweat. His arms leaning on the counter with those think veins and biceps.  His face beams with a triumphant smirk, as if he's just won a high-stakes game of charades. The glint in his grey eyes betrays a mischievous satisfaction, like a cat who's finally caught the elusive red dot. Dark, tousled strands of sweat-dampened hair cling to his forehead, as if styled by a particularly zealous wind, frames his face in a way that's almost endearing.  It's a look that says, "Mission accomplished."

"Part of daily routine?" I ask to distract myself. He nods taking a sip from my cup. When did he pick it up? "Wo meri chai hai." I say snatching the cup from his hands to which he just laughs. The sound so rare and peaceful that I just concentrate on it. We both just sit there for a moment. Him teasing me while I drink my tea in chaos. After a while he leaves me alone saying that he's going for a bath and then only I sigh with relief.

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It's 11 o'clock and Arsalan hasn't left for work yet. After I took a bath I asked him if he wanted breakfast? He just hummed in response, too busy looking at the files spread on his whole king sized bed. Like give me a perfect answer. Yes or No? What the heck does that humming means? But I still make him some breakfast because I'm worried. What if he collapses in the middle of the hospital just because he didn't eat breakfast though that's never gonna happen.

Kicking his bedroom door open with my foot I step inside with the tray of breakfast for him. Well to be honest I'm pretty good at cooking. Not at all flexing about it. It just happens to be a talent.

I made anything from whatever I found in his deserted fridge. It didn't had anything much left, almost empty. I'll make a note of going to the grocery store later.