"Tumhare blackheads bhi hain aur dead skin bhi," Norah casually mumbles, dabbing on the wet face pack that clings to her skin.
Fateh's gaze shoots to his reflection in the mirror in the powder room. His fingers anxiously brush his nose, and he stares at it.
He's always been called out for having clear skin, and this woman shattered all his confidence with one sentence.
"Mujhe toh dikh nhin rahe," Fateh gulps, his gaze traveling to her through the mirror, a respectable distance between them.
"Aaj tumhein pata chal gya ki budhape mein aksar vision blur hone lagta hai," Norah says, trying to part her lips as little as possible, her voice grating, but the level of sarcasm never reduces.
Fateh takes a deep breath, regretting why he came near her in the first place. He--
A soft breath grazes his cheek, and before he knows it, Norah covers the distance between them, firmly gripping his chin.
Her finger tickles his nose as she helps him see. Fateh genuinely stares wide-eyed. He actually had blackheads!
"Fikr not, mere paas ek perfect solution hai!" Norah's grinning voice cuts through, as if she read his mind.
Before Fateh can speak, she climbs onto the sink, pulling him close very unprofessionally by the collar.
"Agar mujhe kuch bhi hua, mein police mein complaint Kardonga and I'm not kidding," he yells, looking right into her eyes. They're close, but none of them is willing to link their skins.
"Ha ha ha," Norah chuckles sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, grabbing a bowl filled with some serum and a brush tucked inside it.
"Ye-Yeh kya hai?"
Fateh's protests turn meek as Norah swiftly sweeps the brush across his nose, applying it as a paste. He flinches, just a little, the coolness of the unknown substance almost numbing his skin.
His gaze flickers to their reflection behind, his brows knitted while she works, very casually. It is soon done, leaving a purplish rock-like layer on his so delicate skin.
"Ab kya?" he breathes, resisting the urge to touch it, but ending up doing so.
"Ab 10 minute wait karo," Norah counters back, carefully peeling her own mask. The powder room is filled with stuff. Her stuff. Stuff Fateh curiously glares at. He clasps his hands behind his back, noticing the process. The world of skincare.
The ten minutes stretch into what feels like decades before Norah finally twitches a finger, silently beckoning him.
Fateh quietly trails towards her, standing between her knees. Norah softly blows on his nose, leaning forward.
Her finger grips the edge of the paste, scraping off just a little of it. A soft grunt escapes Fateh, but he retains his composure. Norah presses her lips together.
"Agar aanson ayein toh naak mein mat lagne dena, blink them back," she whispers, a glint of concern in her gaze.
A deep rumble of laughter escapes Fateh, perfectly contrasting with her demeanor.
"Ronga kyon mein--"
A heavily loud groan escapes him as he stumbles away, crashing into the shower partition. He ducks his head, his palms covering his nose that burns like shit. Literally burns.
His gaze instantly moistens, ragged breaths escaping him. Norah crosses her legs over the sink, her back resting against the mirror.
"Jaldi rolo, abhi aadha hi peel hua hai," she yawns, stretching herself a little.
Fateh glares back at her in shock, at her merciless and unsympathetic nature. But then the words completely sink in. Half... only half of it?
He looks at his reflection in the mirror; half of his nose is reddened, more than that of a joker's. The material, only half of it scraped off while the other half is still firmly glued to his skin-
He's harshly tugged by his collar again, his slippers swishing against the tile. Norah hastily grips the part from where she left off, not giving him any time.
Fateh's palms clutch her waist, making her wrap her legs around his hips. They unknowingly lean into each other, their faces inches apart.
A soft chutter breaks the silence, and off comes the material, freeing his skin, which seems to be on fire.
A whimper escapes him, his moistened gaze helplessly resting on her, as if she's the only one who can take his pain away.
Norah wets her fingers under the tap, grazing the tip on his raw skin. His fingers slightly dig into her waist as the water brings immense relief from the burning sensation, making him shut his eyes.
A tiny tear escapes from his eyelash, which Norah hurriedly wipes away, blowing on his skin. Their breathing in sync, a sense of calm between them.
"Ho gaya," she smiles, detaching her hands from his face, clearly glad to see such a clean nose. Fateh's gaze peeks open, and he stills
A sharp smack resounds in the washroom as Fateh's palm slightly connects with her shoulder.
"Dayan ho tum, completely a witch," he grunts, staring at his reflection in the mirror, scanning his dear nose.
Norah rubs her skin with a wince, glaring back at him with a pout.
"It's fine as long as it's not a bitch and you're welcome!" she scoffs, hopping off, grabbing her stuff. Her gaze flickers to something purple clinging to the fabric of her t-shirt, right near her waist. Her favorite T-shirt.
Her gaze darts towards his palm, the same material smeared on them. She gasps loudly before kicking his ass. Literally.
He slightly falls ahead, holding the sink just in time.
"Agar yeh nishaan tumne abhi meri T-Shirt se nahin nikala, then you wait and see," she growls, enough to send a chill down anybody's spine.
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Just For Inheritance
Romance"Money can't buy love." Could be True. But Money can definitely buy an unlimited data pack, Netflix subscriptions, Two half-plate pav bhaji( Two half mein one se zyada milta hai:}) and that in-trend Denim Jacket. What's the need for love when you...
