Guard of heart

The call

As I sat on the floor, rubbing my sore hip and mentally cursing the old ottoman, Aby’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He straightened up immediately, his teasing smirk vanishing as he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant—from the laid-back, slightly amused version of himself to someone entirely focused.

Without a word, he turned away from me, answering the call in a clipped, professional tone that I hadn't heard from him before.

“Yes?” His voice was low but firm, nothing like the teasing Aby I had been stuck with moments earlier.

When he hung up and walked back, it was like a completely different person had returned. Gone was the teasing smirk, the sarcastic edge to his voice. Instead, he was all business, his expression unreadable.

I tilted my head, trying to break the sudden seriousness with a light tone. “So, uh, you got some wires to fix or something? You know, electrician stuff?”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “No,” he replied simply, his voice curt, almost dismissive.

I blinked, a little thrown off by the abrupt change. “Okay...” I trailed off, watching him closely, trying to figure out what had made him switch like that. But he wasn’t giving anything away, just moving back to the door and inspecting it with cool detachment.

I shifted on my feet, the awkwardness settling between us like thick fog. "Everything okay?" I asked cautiously, but he just nodded, not offering any more information.

I frowned slightly, trying to read his expression, but it was like trying to decipher a locked vault. Whatever had changed his mood, he wasn’t about to share it with me.

“Right,” I mumbled under my breath, glancing away as the silence stretched on. What had gotten into him? But I couldn’t dwell on it for long—there were bigger problems. Like the fact that we were still stuck in this room with no clear escape plan.

I crossed my arms, my annoyance bubbling up. "Wait a second," I said, narrowing my eyes at Aby. "You had your phone this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve called someone!"

He didn’t look up from where he was examining the door again, his expression calm and unreadable. “I forgot,” he said, his voice flat.

I pushed myself off the floor, wincing as the pain in my hips flared up again. “Well, that was brilliant,” I muttered, rubbing the sore spot as I stood. I shot Aby an annoyed look, but he was already distracted, pulling out his phone and moving to a corner of the room.

I watched him, trying to shake off the embarrassment of my fall. As he dialed a number, his demeanor shifted—his expression hardened, and his tone became serious and focused.

“Hey,” he said into the phone, his voice steady and professional. “It’s me. Iam locked in the storeroom. Can you come unlock it?”

I crossed my arms, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Why hadn’t he done this sooner?

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied before ending the call, turning back to me with a neutral expression.

“The handyman is on his way,” he said, his voice clipped, as if he were discussing a routine task.

“Great. So we’re just… waiting,” I said, letting my arms fall to my sides, trying to ignore the tension building between us. It felt strange how quickly things had shifted; moments ago, we’d been teasing each other, and now he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.

Aby nodded, his eyes drifting back to the door as he leaned against the wall. The space between us felt charged, and I found myself studying him, wondering what lay behind that serious facade. Was this the real Aby, or just a mask he wore?

“Do you always go into work mode this quickly?” I asked, attempting to break the silence.

He glanced at me, his expression still unreadable. “I have my responsibilities,” he replied simply.

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because standing around in a storeroom is super urgent.”

He raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe it is. What if someone needed access to the supplies in here?”

“Or maybe they just wanted to escape from a boring storeroom,” I shot back, my tone lightening slightly.

He shrugged, but there was something in his gaze that told me he wasn’t entirely immune to my attempt at humor. I could feel a flicker of connection, even amidst the tension.

As I glanced around the cluttered space, my stomach let out a loud growl, and I winced. “Speaking of boring, I could really use a snack right now,” I said, trying to lighten the mood further.

“Don’t think there are any snacks in here,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall again, that professional demeanor still intact.

“Great. Locked in a storeroom with no food. Just my luck,” I said, sighing dramatically.

Before Aby could respond, a loud knock echoed from the door, breaking the moment. “Sir! You in there?” a voice called from the other side.

“Yeah, we’re here!” he shouted back, straightening up and shifting into a more professional stance.

The handyman's footsteps approached, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It wouldn’t be long now before we’d be out of this cramped space.

With a swift motion, the handyman pulled open the door, and light flooded into the storeroom. I squinted against the brightness, grateful to see the hallway outside.

“Looks like you two had quite the adventure,” the handyman remarked with a chuckle.

“Just a typical day,” I replied, forcing a smile as I stepped out into the hallway, Aby following closely behind.

As we emerged, I felt a sense of freedom wash over me, mixed with the lingering warmth of the moment we had shared inside. I turned to Aby, who was already slipping his phone back into his pocket, his serious demeanor softening just slightly.

“Thanks for calling,” I said, trying to maintain some of the earlier levity. “Next time, just remember to use your phone before we find ourselves in another storeroom.”

He glanced at me, a hint of a smile finally breaking through that stoic exterior. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, the teasing glint returning to his eyes.

As we walked down the hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us, even if we hadn’t quite acknowledged it yet.