Warm Love|✓

56

"Yes." I shake my head, remembering how dreadful I used to make.

"Poor Reyansh, he's always the victim." She laughs, followed by me. He used to hate my tea, as I used to add the ginger more than needed, yet drink it with a poker face, and subtle smile.

"Fow whom you're making it?" he questions me, indicating to the tea I's pouring in the cup.

"For him. He's seating in the garden, so I thought why not get him his tea." I filter the tea, the unfiltered disposing off.

"How's your study going?"

"Wonderful." I say with an eye roll.

"Oh, and we called a beautician at home. It's been day's I trimmed my hair. I's thinking of dyeing them." Her finger clutches her black hair, threading through the strands. "You also do something. Why don't you also dye them." I look down at my hairs.

Dyeing doesn't seem a bad option. Infact, I'd always desired to do it. I smile at her, "I'll think about it."

She passes me a raised thumb. I take the tray and exist the kitchen through back door, I make my way to the him. Reyansh has his back turned to me, his assistant Vishal standing before him.

He glances over his shoulder, his onyx eyes meeting with mine.

I saunter towards him, keeping the plate on the tea pot. He takes my hands kisses it. His phone rings excusing himself, he once again drops a kiss on my crown and walks away for privacy.

His gesture, his words and even his gaze has always collapsed against my heart. invading shamelessly, drawing out my vulnerability, making me just a pawn un my own emotions, where he controls them, and I just act, act and move in his drama.

If this is not a problem enough, he adds it up, by playing the drama in my own heart.

I smile absentmindedly.

"Good morning, Ma'am." Nitin my body guard wishes me, grinning showing his gummy smile. He is a young man, older than me by three years. Unlike the other bodyguards, he atleast doesn't maintain a cement face, with shades darker than black.

"Good morning." I smile at him, "How are you?" He replies with a fine.

"Good morning, Ma'am." It's Vishal speaking in his all-time favorite robotic smile. "Good morning."

"Wanna have some hot tea." I spread my palm, indicating at the tea poy.

"No Ma'am." Both of them, replies in one go, flinching me. They look guilty at me, worry lacing in their eyes.

Come one, I'm not going to hold grudge just because they denied my tea.

"You know I've improved in making them." I suggest, yet they remain still contemplating ways to deny.

Still no. I understand they got a phobia of my tea, given the way I'd served them a horrendous form of tea for the three weeks.

"I would like to deny it, Ma'am. I'm on fast." I blink at Vishal, who bows his head, apologetically.

"Haven't you had a sandwich as a breakfast, before me." Nitin, breaks the truth, making Vishal shoot daggers of arrow at his way. They had always like this, Tom and Jerry.

"Ma'am, don't listen to him." He stammers. "It's okay." I cut him off.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

I sigh an exaggerated sigh, "How many times I'd told you to call me Kiraz. You both are older than me, I feel so low whenever you both call me, Ma'am. I understand your professional behavior. Also think that, I'm not the one paying you, it's my husband. Call him with whatever endearment, but refrain me." I pronounce, hope this works of.