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As I slowly blinked awake, the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow around the room. However, something felt off; the space was alien, filled with unfamiliar furniture and decor that seemed to whisper secrets I couldn’t quite grasp. Panic fluttered in my chest as I sat up, rubbing my temples, the dull throb of a headache intruding on my thoughts.
“Where am I?” I murmured to myself, the question hanging heavy in the air. Confusion swirled in my mind like a fog, thick and impenetrable.
“Why can't I remember anything from last night?” I pressed my palms to my temples, desperately trying to recall how I ended up here. Pushing the blankets aside, I stumbled out of the room, the echoes of my unanswered questions trailing behind me. As I crossed the threshold into a spacious kitchen, the aroma of something savoury wafted through the air, momentarily distracting me from my discomfort. There, standing by the stove, was Krish, his back turned to me as he busied himself making breakfast.
“You… What are you doing here?” I blurted my voice a mix of surprise and irritation. “Making breakfast,” he replied casually, flipping a pancake as if this were the most normal morning routine in the world.
“How is your hangover? There’s a glass of lemonade on the table; drink it,” he added nonchalantly, his focus still on the sizzling pan. Wait… the fragments of the previous night began to trickle back into my consciousness.
“What am I doing at your place? Oh, right! You took me to that weird club and… got me drunk. But why can’t I remember anything after that?” I asked, my voice rising slightly, the realization not quite settling in.
“Good for you,” he said with a slight smirk, as if my amnesia was a blessing rather than a curse.
“I told Abhira that you were with me for work purposes,” he continued, almost dismissively.
“Anyways, why are you making breakfast? Do you live alone? Why don’t you have any house help?” I pressed, curiosity piquing despite my discomfort.
