My Blue Orange [COMPLETED]

Chapter 37

'You knew that?', I heard him screaming into his phone when I closed the door to his apartment.
He gave me a double take before killing the line.
'All okay?', I asked while perching on the couch.
'Yeah. You're early?', he seemed confused.
'Why! You were expecting someone else...?', I sang as I made my way towards dispenser.
'No', he muttered something under his breath.

He seemed boiling so I refused to talk further and started ascending upstairs.
After a hot steamy shower I slipped in a comfy peach sweat shirt and pants and commenced the most nerve wrecking chore, unravelling hair.

Gosh I hate this. I will definitely assign someone for this task once I'm wealthy enough.

'Cook something..'

I gasped at that sudden nuisance and looked back to see a still boiling Zaki.

He needs a brain doctor not me.

I nodded and stood up while readily raveling my hair. 

Ouch. This stupidity really hurts.

'Go get bald.', he said with a smug.

'Wow! So you all can definitely label me as a mental patient? No thanks. Lets keep it a secret.', I threw that nasty brush somewhere and made it for the door.

'You're not mentally ill. It's just good to see a consultant once in a while.', he stopped me by my elbow and said politely.

And I was tongue tied.
If he had said this in an angry mood I would have defended and said something even nastier but his way of speech depicted something as if he was talking to someone who is really mentally ill.

I moved away and descended down. 
Reaching the kitchen I opened his fridge and took out all the contents on the counter.

'Aloo ka paratha.'

'WHAT?', I shrieked at his sudden idiotic demand and gave him a quizzical look.

'You heard that.', he shrugged and slumped on one of the barstool of his kitchen, with his fists under his chins.

'Lets just keep it simple. Just mashed potatoes.', I negotiated.

'Aloo paratha.', he said as if it was obvious and this mental patient couldn't decipher him.

'It will take time.', I threw the pot on the counter and heard him hiss.

Jerk

I'm tired and all he needs is Aloo paratha.

After an hour of fighting with his kitchen I placed a plate of two parathas and heaved a sigh of relief.

'I love you.', he smiled.

'Shut up.'

I transpired in the lounge and fell on my favorite couch.
Thanks to that Chinese take out or I would be eating Zaki by now.

I closed my eyes and reminisced today's events. I hated how his stony chest broke my nose but loved his warmth. 

He's good.
Just perfect.

But not for me.

I wish he sorts out whatever is wrong with his marriage and get the hell out of my life. 
I shouldn't think about Musa.
He's not for me.
He's made for anyone but me.

Besides, who would fall for a mentally ill person.
Even if he doesn't know about my illness and chooses to marry me, (which is obviously not gonna happen) that wouldn't be good for me. I'll die of that stupid sorrow.