Always Is Not Forever (Breaking Myself - Part II)

8. The One Where I Confess Too Much

[ A L I N A ' S P O V ]

"What happened to your hand?" Kriti clutched my hand, tension pouring out of her face whilst I stole a glance around the canteen.

I should've wrapped a bandage around it, but it was itching me, and I had removed it as soon as I had worn it. How should I explain to her that I burned it myself? I acted crazy by burning my room as if it was a piece of paper.

"Cooking," I lied.

She narrowed her eyes, scanning the wound, checking the reality that lay within it.

"I thought rich girls don't cook," She mumbled dryly. Trust me, the maids wouldn't let me enter the kitchen much, guided by Meena Auntie.

"I thought I had established I wasn't normal." I wriggled my eyebrows, withdrawing my hand from hers. "I love cooking."

"You write, you cook, you read. What you can't do?"

"I can't paint good, I don't like being active." She gave me a look at the fact I did yoga every morning. It wasn't something I was fond of, I had to do to make my mind and soul calm like my therapist had said. Not to forget the last fifteen minutes of stress relieving activities. "I can't design, my taste in clothes suck."

"True that." She leaned back in her chair, forking her pasta. "So how was drive home?"

Disastrous.

"Nice. What about you?"

"Don't ask." She rolled her eyes. "I reach home, and they behave like I wasn't gone at all. And the food. Mom kept on commenting how much slim I had gone, how my face has fallen. My younger brother kept on pestering me to tell if I had a boyfriend."

My eyes widened slightly. "See? Youngsters these days. Here I'm trying to get a degree to work as an editor, and he thinks I'm having the thing."

Laughing at her complaints, I ran my finger around my scar, no longer hidden under the cloth, but visible in broad daylight. I knew Kriti stared at them someday, but she tries to be as much discreet as possible and never asked about them. For that, I was relieved.

"Will you edit my book?" I peered at her through my eyelashes.

Her complaints came to a halt. "What?"

Dabbing my lower lip, I said, "My book is completed." A broad grin crossed her face. "I need to edit it and need someone advice."

"I thought you would go to Kabir."

"He doesn't like reading much, and-" I stopped myself, not aware if he would like that I expressed about his new job to Kriti. He had told me in the airplane, and I had tried to reason out to him that it may hinder his studies, but he was stubborn. He wanted to lessen the burden on his dad, and if possible, I fell in love with him a little more.

"And I need someone who is an avid reader. Will you do it, please?" I begged her through my eyes.

"Obvio, silly." She slapped my arm. "I'm waiting to read your book. You had been so discreet about it. Should I expect tissues?"

"Depends." I thought a little harder. "Yes, the ending can be overwhelming."

"Good. I love emotional endings. Mail me today. I will send you my email. I'll get back to you in two weeks, and then begin your editing."

"And the pay-" I started, but she clamped my mouth shut with her hand.

Remove it, I urged to shout. I didn't like my mouth being held.