under the covers [hs au]

chapter sixty-three.

The ends of her fingertips remained rigid and cold, like sharp icicles.

With a woven blanket wrapped around her body, Samira sauntered around the bedroom, sniffling quietly. Thunder from miles away shook the ground, and she could barely hear herself think.

No matter how tightly she pulled the blanket to her body, it was never enough. The goosebumps on Samira's arm pricked like scales, and her head itched. She imagined a large pair of arms protecting her from harm's way.

God, why is it so damn cold in here?

Samira scratched her puffy eyes and lay on her bed. Sakinah jumped up next to Samira, then trotted toward the stuffed lamb that Samira slept with every night. Sakinah purred lowly, petting the toy. Frowning, Samira noticed how big Sakinah had gotten since Zafri gifted her. Samira grabbed Sakinah with both hands, nestling her tightly but gingerly.

On her side table, there was an empty kettle of chai and a half-full bag of chocolate-covered almonds. Samira had filled her stomach with the kindness that Zafri brought with him, right before their sudden debacle.

Eyes wandered—behind all the wedding boxes were little things Samira looked after. Every houseplant Zafri named after her had grown, big and green. The weighted blanket sat at the side of her bed, unfolded and warm. The green journal next to her pillow was nearly full, each page filled to the brim with every single one of her ideas.

Sakinah meowed softly, and Samira rubbed her head.

"What's wrong with me . . ." Her nose tickled, and she felt a wave of emotions crashing into her eyes. "I'm supposed to be happy. I am happy."

Samira looked down at Sakinah, sighing.

"You won't leave me, right?" A cold tear fell down her cheek.

The black cat slipped out of Samira's arms, crimping at the corner of her bed. Samira's shoulders slouched, and she opened her green notebook, lips pursed. The sight of Zafri's handwriting brought a short-lived simper on her lips, then it curled into a glower at the thought of their argument.

Her glossed eyes skimmed the last written page.

Sam

She's your fun girlfriend. Loud, adventurous. Sexy. She'll make you feel good. She'll bring out the best in you. She's excellent at handjobs. She can be a bit stubborn, but you love it. If you sit down with her and talk, she might dig deep into the abyss in your head.

Mimi

She's your best friend. She will tie your hair together while you puke when you're drunk. She's your stuffed animal when you need someone to hold. Down to earth, loyal. She'd love to bother you when she's bored. You're lucky if she loves you. You will think of her when you need someone.

Sami

She's the mother of your friend group. She'll cook comfort food for you the moment she hears that you're sad. The sight of her eyes rests your heart. She will find some way to blame an inconvenience on her father. Her daddy issues are her favorite thing to talk about.

Samira

. . .

The rest of the page remained blank. Samira traced over the stark lines, wishing they magically filled with ink.

Maybe if I wrote 'dumbass', that would fix it. Then maybe I would know where to go from there.

She slammed the book shut, pulling herself under the covers. An angry heat rushed to Samira's cheeks, and her voice broke through her seal lips. In her pillow, she bawled emphatically, releasing everything that swirled inside her the moment Zafri walked out the door.