Entangled Love ✓

Chapter 19

Zara's POV

I am running breathlessly on a deserted and untenanted arena, with the every passing instant, the faint yet sharp heart wrenching muffled sound of footsteps is inducing my all senses and perceptions to be lost. The touch of hot grainy sand under my barefoot is causing the sweat glands in my skin to expel whatever the amount of water has existed in my body.

With each ray increase in the sun's blazing volcano, I can feel my death coming nearer to me as my pace is getting slow and in addition to footsteps, I can see the faded silhouette of something unknown behind me. So this is the end?

My eyes pop out when the silhouette transfer into a somewhat living creature and it clenches my neck hard. The raised tension on my neck with no entry of air in my trachea is giving me an acknowledgment that I will die soon.

My eyes flutter open as I find myself drenched in sweat. So it was a dream? I rest a hand on my throbbing chest still not fully understanding anything at all. My eyes drift from ceiling to the place where my hands are place- a soft and satiny thing. I sit up astonish at where I am lying- bed. How I have come here? If I remember correctly, I was laying on the couch the last night and if I were to sleep then of course I would sleep on the same couch. Have I walked in my sleep yesterday?

I groan when a throbbing pain emerges in my head. I clench my head hard in both hands. Whatever has happened, I don't know how it has happened. But what about Armaan, where has he slept? Of course not on the bed as I was there. My eyes wander towards the couch and there is a pillow there. So he sleeps on the couch.

I pick the panadol from the drawer of the bed's side table and gulp it. My eyes search for water in the room. Thank God, a jug and glass are present on the side table. With trembling hands, I pour the water into the glass and gulp it quickly. My ears perk at the sound of the bathroom door's cracking opening sound and with that, the glass in my hand falls hard on the floor. The small pieces of glass dash on the ground is enough for increasing my headache more. So he is still here, I assumed he has left. I promptly stand up from the bed and bend down to collect the chunks of glass by my hand quickly. He will surely make a fuss about it. He gives me an abrupt glance while stroking his wet hair with a towel and goes in front of the mirror.

A small moan left my mouth when a piece of glass poke in my index finger. I recklessly roll the corner of my dupatta on it. Still, my headache has not gone and now another pain is greeting my immune system. Great!

"Why you are so clumsy?" I lift my head up abruptly on this. He is standing across me with both arms folding on his chest. Does he just call me clumsy? I stand up while I blow on my finger in an attempt to lessen the pain but it is bleeding. He sighs and grasps my shoulders making me surprise by his sudden act.

"Sit here, " he orders while making me sit on the corner of the bed and starts searching something in the drawer of the same bedside table from which I have taken the medicine. After a while, he has a tube in his hand most probably ointment. Is he going to apply the medicine on my bruise? Why he is acting so concerned for me from the day Dad has gone? As much as I don't want to give him the credit, but if it wasn't for what he has said, I won't be able to come out of the trance of Dad's loss.

The trains of my thoughts end when he softly grabs my hand and starts applying the medicine. His wet hair from earlier now starts getting dry provoking them to fall on his forehead. His eyes are fully concentrated on what he is doing with his lips purse in a thin line. I starlet when he looks up. I immediately turn my head to another direction. I hope he doesn't find me ogling over his face. I glimpse at him from the side of my eyes, his lips curl up to form a smirk. This is so embarrassing. He finishes bandaging my finger and strolls towards the mirror with the same stupid smirk on his face.