under the covers [hs au]

chapter twenty-one.

A weight heaved on Samira's shoulders. Her father's words echoed in her ears: Refusing to face a burden is like carrying an elephant. Unfortunately, she didn't know what the elephant was in this context, so she had to keep moving forward, allowing it to weigh her down.

Her time at home was different than the last. Wapa had spent much of the time spoiling her, asking her questions about her thesis. Omma always needed Samira, whether it was for running an errand or chopping vegetables; no matter how old she was or how far away she'd be, she would always be her mother's right-hand woman.

Most of her time with Surat consisted of them binge-watching New Girl. One night, Samira had fallen asleep spooning Surat, which was surprising. Samira once hated cuddling—but she had gotten used to holding Harry in her sleep.

Ayan showed up one weekend with his wife, Jana. Samira had thought of talking to him, and she did, but the substance was missing. Maybe it was because she still hated him, but she tried so hard not to.

Another day, she encountered someone from her past. Samira was at the mall, alone, when she had a surprisingly nice interaction with someone rather hostile in her memory.

That was when the weight began to heave, and it didn't make sense as to why it was there.

Harry picked Samira up from the airport this morning. It felt no different seeing him, as he'd FaceTime her at least twice a day.

He'd been happy while he was in Cheshire. She knew because he'd tell her all the things he did with his family—it was clear he had tried, and she was proud of him.

He'd missed her, a lot; she'd missed him too, but she could admit she spent more time worrying about him. Maybe his drunken words played a role in that scene.

After she settled back at her apartment, she took a nap while Harry unpacked for her. When she woke up, they went out for dinner and took a walk.

They ended the night cuddling on the couch, which turned into a heated make-out session.

Samira straddled Harry on her bed, gripping his hair as she rolled her hips onto his. Harry held her close with his arm wrapped around her waist, thrusting into her. Their movements were feverish; they'd longed for each other, making up for the weeks they'd been apart.

Harry bit into her shoulder, mumbling fuck as their touches became sloppy. As heat expanded in her abdomen, Samira threw her head back, parting her mouth as she came onto him. Harry then put his hand around her neck, pushing himself in once more before letting go.

After Samira put his unbuttoned shirt over her body, he tackled her down on the other side of the bed. They lay together, sinking into each other's heat. The lights remained dim, and the rain pattered against the windows.

"You look more like a lion now than you did before," Harry said, twirling one of her curls in his fingers.

Samira's hair now sat right above her shoulders. While she was at home, she saw the scissors in the bathroom and decided to cut her hair.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

Samira was very tired; sex mixed with jetlag wasn't the best combination for her. But she didn't want to sleep, as she knew Harry wasn't finished with his day as she was. He still had a lot to tell her, even after talking and talking at dinner, on the bus, and as they walked home.

"No," she answered. "I wanted to say. I was actually worried you wouldn't try while you were at home."

"I mean," Harry began, propping his head up to look at her. "You're right about everything, so I did what you said. And again, you were right."