An Inconvenient Flame

Chapter 43

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Ishika's pov

It's a lazy Sunday evening, I snuggle into the warmth of the comforter, it has started getting chiller.

Winter is knocking at the door, and though I love the cozy vibes, I can't seem to focus anymore.

My IR notes lie on the bed table, and the words blur together as I try to read the same paragraph for the fifth time. It's not working. My brain feels fried.

I glance up from my notes, shifting slightly under the comforter.

Abhiraj is sitting on the couch, his laptop on his knees, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard.

His jaw is set in that same focused expression he always wears when he's working.

Even from here, I can tell he's lost in his own world, like nothing else exists. And as far as I remember it's a Sunday. Still he is working. What kind of a workaholic he is... it's boring!!

I scrunch my face and slump back against the headboard. I've been studying for hours, trying to remember as much as I can about international relations, but my brain has had enough.

I need a break.

The silence in the room is even more visible without Ivaan around.

He's out with Arjun, and though I'm grateful for the quiet, I'm starting to feel a little restless.

I flip my notebook over and grab a pen, doodling mindlessly on the last page. Curved lines turning into spirals, spirals into flowers, and flowers into something unrecognizable.

My eyes drift back to Abhiraj. I pout.

He's still typing away. His stoic, unbothered demeanor irks me sometimes like now, when I'm bored out of my mind, and he seems perfectly content in his work.

"Abhiraj," I call out, my voice breaking the stillness.

He doesn't look up.

"Hmm?"

I pause, twirling the pen between my fingers.

"Are you on Insta?" I ask without giving myself a thought.

The tapping of his keyboard halts for a second before resuming at the same steady pace.

"No," he says curtly, his tone firm, almost like he's scolding me.

"Study," he adds without looking at me.

I groan, throwing my head back against the headboard.

"I was studying," I mumble to myself.

Clearly, he's not interested in entertaining me right now.

I look back at my notes, but I can't bring myself to study.

The room is too quiet, too still, and my thoughts keep wandering.

I can't stay like this, not alone with my thoughts creeping in like an unwelcome guest.

I look at him again.

Hesitantly, I call him again.

"Abhiraj..."

This time, his fingers pause mid-type.

"Hmm?"

"Look up here," I say, my voice soft but insistent almost pleading.