Broken But Beautiful

57. PEACE, AND GENDA PHOOL

Manik

I opened my eyes, letting a long suppressed breath out of my lungs. I turned my head beside to watch the clock. 6:29 am.

Then it was 6:30 am, and the clock started ringing. 

I pressed on the stop, brushing enough sleep out of my eyes keep them open. I got up, grabbed the nearest vest, put it on while walking out of my room. Straight out of the door, descending the two stairs, reaching under the vase for the key. The lock clicked open and there I was, where I could've been those six excruciating hours at night too, only if I was not as messed up as I was. I threw the keys on the sofa and walked straight into her room. 

Nandini Murthy had a billion possible positions to sleep into. 

One of them was right in front of me- three long pillows blocking her fall from the bed as she lay on her stomach, long dark curls everywhere, face hidden somewhere in the maze of cotton, silk and her own hair. As I had learnt in the past three similar mornings, and previous almost three months, the process of freeing those pillows from the grip of her arms and legs was a slow, tedious one. First went the blanket by her ankle. One by one I pulled them out from beneath, counting her breaths carefully, never missing a beat. 

She could not wake up. I had a dare going.

Once all of them were out of the way, I grinned in victory. Her breaths were deep and even, no muscle twitching out of proportion. There was no way she was up yet. 

I took off my vest, tossed it to the nearest chair and slowly eased myself into the bed, lifting her arms to fill the space I had just freed for myself. The space that could've been me the entire night instead of those lifeless, odorless, cold blocks of cotton. As I anticipated, the mattress was cool under my skin. I gently let her hand fall over me, carefully watching for any sign of deceit. 

Her skin mingled with mine, and it wasn't so cold anymore. I slipped my hand beneath her, gathering her petite armor on me. She buried her face on the nape of my neck, sighing long and deep, curling up into me. I brushed my lips on her forehead, burying myself in her warmth, her scent, her weight.

"You need to give up,"

"Oh, come on," I groaned, pulling my head up. Eyes shut close, she flushed her winning smile. Her perfectly woken voice just mocked me for the third morning running. 

"Manik, I'm preparing to be a surgeon in a few years. I wake up to the sound of birds twitting. In the living room balcony,"

"Shut up," I muttered, gathering her close. Her arm circled around my neck, both her legs tangling up with mine. 

"And this is- you. If you think I wouldn't wake up to your heavy scent, you're just delusional,"

"If it was my scent that woke you up, I'd actually consider myself lucky," I chided in whisper, "So, how long today?"

"Ten minutes," her smile broadened, and the outcome was infectious. The competition to wake up and be here before she does vanished into thin air. I pecked on the side of her forehead, driving my face back into the mess of her hair in the corner of her neck. I inhaled her in, listening to her deep breath to do the same. 

She smelled like home, and I had no idea what that was. 

She snuggled closer to me, her entire body quivering to fit into me. I collected her head on the nap of my neck, covering her whole body on me. 

She was lying so close to me, our hearts aligning in beats; any more closer and I'd crush her. And yet, we both shifted and turned, nestled closer for that one inch of warmth, one inch of proximity, to eliminate one inch of any kind of detachment that could exist in between. My lips caressed her warmth, her softness, her touch. My fingers tangled through her hair, her fingers tingled touches through the back of my shoulder. Her tranquil breath fanned against my chest where she hid her face, rubbing her nose, skimming her lips through the skin.