LET ME HATE YOU

Presentation

Amaan stirred in his sleep, and as his newly acquired habit demanded, he spread his arm to the other side of the bed. He frowned, finding the bed empty. He glanced towards the bathroom, expecting Asmaira to be in the restroom. However, when he noticed the door ajar, he sat up.

"Asmaira," his call for her met with silence.

He slid out of the bed, thinking if she was in Kabir's room. Stepping out of his room, he was on his way to Kabir's room when he noticed a light from the study room. Concerned, he slightly opened the door and noticed Asmaira engrossed in her laptop, looking frantic. His brows furrow when she lets out a low whimper and covers her face with shaking hands.

He leaned on the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at his simple wife with an annoying habit of keeping things to herself. He has observed her anxiety in the last few days and expected her to seek his help. To his frustration, she never once shared her concern.

When Asmaira was ready to give up and lose her hope, a steamy cup came into her view. She looked at it and then at the person who was holding it. There stood Amaan with two cups of tea, telling her he was there for her wordlessly.

Amaan's gaze followed the trail of her lone tear that she wiped immediately, and how she lowered her face to hide the embarrassment. She remained oblivious to the fact that her flushed face made her look more alluring, especially in the dim lighting of the study.

Neither of them spoke.

Asmaira accepted the tea without a word of gratitude. She feared that if she opened her mouth, she would cry miserably, making him believe she was a weak person. Amaan sat beside her and sipped the tea leisurely. Something about his presence eases her tense form, and Asmaira could feel her palpitation calm down.

Amaan's senses were quick, even though he woke up from his slumber. His gaze quickly noticed the presentation opened on the laptop, and then her haphazard notes that she struck off with the ferocity that tore the pages. With only a month left until her semester exams, Amaan noticed her turning hysterical every now and then.

Letting out a sigh, he said, "The essence of great presentation is to condense and concise your data. Your audience should know what you are talking about without you uttering a single word. By visuals, not by content."

Like every time, he understood her concern without asking and provided a solution. He neither questions nor criticizes when she meets a dead end.

"H-How?" she stammered, trying desperately to stop her sobs.

"I have a presentation tomorrow and I don't even know what I'm going to do," she murmured, lowering her head.

"I will fail and, because of me, Adam will miss out on his credit. I—"

"Are you worried about failing, or are you worried about Adam?"

She didn't notice the slight twitch in his voice at the mention of Adam.

"I..." she let out a quivering exhale and looked at him, "don't want you to think I'm hopeless."

Sliding his chair closer to her, he smiled, "Good, because for me, you are priceless."

Asmaira's heart skipped a beat at his confession, and she stared at him in disbelief. As he learned over her to guide her with the edit, his familiar cologne invaded her personal space, making her initial fear wane and a different feeling take its place.

"You don't need so much text. Add element here," he grabbed her hand, holding the mouse and navigated her.

His slight stubble rubbed against her cheek, and her eyes momentarily closed at the spark that ignited at the touch. His breath fanning her neck sent a sweet shiver across her entire body. Leaning over her, he made her add all the elements missing, unaware of how his proximity was making her heart flutter.