Author's Note
Hi! I just wanted to give a warning that Heer has a breakdown in the middle of the chapter that includes her low thoughts, which may be triggering for some people. Please skip that part if you feel it would be better for you. I apologize if it seems Heer's low moments seem repetitive, but the purpose of including them is to reflect the title of the chapter and show the reality that for some, moving past something that impacts you so deeply isn't necessarily a linear process. Healing is a journey and it takes time.
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Heer's P.O.V.
His fallen expression matched the dimmed light in his eyes as he looked at me, "Live here and there?"
I continued hesitantly, "Yeah. It's just that, you're gone most of the day and I don't have much to do at home. I don't really know anyone else here either. I know I can get a job, but it's just that I love working at Hayat and I really miss it."
His gaze lowered. And I could tell he didn't like the idea.
"It was just on my mind and I wanted to tell you. I don't have to," I added quickly. "I am fine here. Like I said, it was just an idea I had. If you don't-"
He cleared his throat, searching my eyes, "How would that work? I mean, how long would you be here and how long would you stay there?"
"I was thinking a week here and then a week there."
"Wouldn't that be hard?"
His question made my frame shrink.
It wasn't going to happen, I guess. As my best friend and husband, I respected him enough to not forcefully do something that he evidently didn't approve of. It seems I will just have to visit Manchester every few weeks instead.
But when he continued, hope began to spread within me. "You would barely get any rest if you're traveling every weekend," he wet his lips, pausing for a moment, "It would have to be two weeks, otherwise you'll be exhausted before the week starts."
My eyes widened, my lips parted with surprise. "You're okay with it?"
He gave me a small smile, tilting his head, "You didn't work so hard to open Hayat just to be away from it. It was your dream for the longest time. I watched you work for years to save up money for it. I remember the blood and tears that went into opening it. How could I not be okay with what you love?"
I lunged for him, enveloping him in a tight hug, squealing happily, "Salaar!" He fell on to his back with me on top of him. He paused for a moment then wrapped his arms around me firmly, burying his face in my neck while I gushed, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
I heard him chuckle quietly before rest his head on the rug to look at my face with soft eyes. "What are you thanking me for?"
"I didn't think you would agree," I answered, grinning.
"Your happiness is what's important to me, Heer. If you're happy, then so am I," he then spoke softly, his fingers brushing some of my hair behind my ear, "But I'm really going to miss you. I've gotten used to coming back home to you every day. It's what I look forward to the most."
A warmth spread through my chest at his words.
"I'll miss you too..." I lowered my voice, "I won't do it if you-"
He lifted an eyebrow, "Sherni toh tum thi, mujhe chuha kehti thi. Ab toh tum hi chuhein jaisi-"
(You used to be a lioness, calling me the mouse. Now you yourself act like mice-)
My eyes widened, "I'm not a mouse!"
"Are you sure?" he smirked.
"Yes, you maindak!" I huffed.
"Toh phir itna hichkicha rahi thi kyun?"
(Then why were you hesitating so much?)
"Kyunki-" my cheeks began flushing pink as it finally occurred to me that I was still laying on top of him.
(Because-)
He gazed at my eyes with his soft, amused hazel ones.
My palms pressed against the floor next to his shoulders as I began pushing myself up when he suddenly tightened his hold around me, keeping me to him. I collapsed back onto him with a sharp breath, peering at him.
"Tell me."
His fingertips began grazing the side of my waist, tracing random patterns. He was so nonchalant about it too, unaware of how goosebumps were following his touch.
"I'm waiting," his voice cut through the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
"Your- your..."
He held me even closer, tilting his head while looking at my face mesmerizingly, his amber-green eyes twinkling. "Mhm?"
My lips parted to say my next words, but I paused at the enticing smell of his cologne.
"My?"
I gulped, "Your-"
One of his hands caressed my side, capturing my attention to the slow, soothing movement.
His eyes lowered to my lips.
His cold fingers touched the warm, exposed skin on my hips from where my sweater had risen up, making me jerk up into a sitting position next to him unexpectedly.
I cleared my throat, brushing some hair behind my ears. He watched me, wetting his lips as though he were attempting to stifle a smirk.
He reached for the Jenga blocks and began arranging them into a tower again, "I'm listening, sweetheart."
"You're my husband, and I wanted to be mindful of you," I mumbled coyly, placing the remaining pieces on the structure.
He paused, "What?"
I repeated myself and I could see him smile to himself through the corner of my eyes.
I knew he just wanted to hear me say it again; he'd heard me the first time.
Starting to feel shy, I changed the topic, "Technically, I won the last game because you made it fall. So, hah!"
He too kept things light.
He lifted an eyebrow, "Is that so? Anyways, I was trying to play nice; you'd just happened to catch me off-guard. In this case, I'll stop going easy on you."
"Hey! That's unfair if you're going to bring your architectural background into this!"
"Sucks for you."
"You're so mean!"
He shrugged, "It's on, Heer Qureshi. Loser does whatever the winner asks."
"Fine!"
"Fine," mischief illuminated in his eyes.
We took turns carefully sliding blocks out from the tower.
It was a tense yet fun and laughter-filled atmosphere, though Salaar was a bit quieter than earlier. I knew it was because of my leaving to Manchester.
I turned to look at him, asking gently, "Are you sure you're okay with the whole 2-weeks here and there thing?"
He pulled yet another beige piece from the structure, "Yeah."
I tilted my head, "Salaar."
His smile faltered, "Besides missing you... There is something, love."
"What?"
"Somehow, Manchester doesn't seem so big when you're there—you bumped into Kamran the last time you visited. You said Haniya told you he goes to Hayat sometimes."
I hadn't considered potentially seeing him at the café.
"He still tries to call and text you... I don't want him around you, Heer."
I took his hand, reassuring him, "I don't want him around me either. I'll try to avoid him as best as I can if I happen to see him. I don't want anything to do with him anymore-"
He intertwined our fingers, "It's not about that, love. I told you, I trust you. It's that, being so far away, if you encounter him and something happens and he upsets you, I won't be able to do anything from here."
He's scared he won't be able to protect me.
"I'll be fine," I offered a small smile.
He kissed my forehead. "Promise you'll punch him on my behalf the second you see him?"
"Oh my gosh!" I giggled, moving away from him as he too chuckled.
"Beat him up and bring a handful of his hair back to London, then I will acknowledge that you're not a mouse," he further teased.
"Salaar!" my eyes widened while I laughed, shaking my head, "Paagal aadmi!"
(Crazy man!)
"Use your nails too. They'll leave a mark. I know from experience," he pointed at a very faint scar on his arm, "Courtesy of Api from when we were little."
My eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, hissing while my fingers grazed over the white line, "Ouch. I remember that."
"Your turn."
I nodded and picked another piece from the wobbling tower.
"When do you think you'll go, love?"
"What do you think about Sunday?" I asked while he reach for a block carefully.
It was Thursday night.
"And you'd come back two Fridays from tomorrow?"
I nodded.
"Alright."
"No!" I shouted, my shoulders slumping, while Salaar chuckled when the tower came toppling down after I tried sliding a piece out.
"I win!"
"No cold brews now, if that's what you were going to ask for."
He laughed, putting all the pieces back into the box, "I wasn't."
"Then? What do you want, Fall Equinox Formal ke shehzade? Farmayein."
(... prince of the Fall Equinox Formal? Request something.)
"Jao jao, baksh diya tumhe. Kuch nahin chahiye," he retorted playfully, getting up and putting the game away.
(Go go, I've spared you. I don't want anything.)
I closed the window in the living room then followed him to the bedroom. "C'mon. You won, so you get to demand I do something for you."
"Fine. I will ask for it when the time comes. I can't think of anything now."
I squinted at him skeptically, making him laugh.
After using the restroom, I joined him in bed. We laid in silence for a moment until he spoke, "How do you feel about your therapy appointment tomorrow?"
It was the last one I had scheduled.
"Good. The first one went better than expected."
I've been feeling a bit better too. I also think after coming to my realization that I no longer have feelings for Kamran like that, that I can no longer see myself with him, has helped.
The following afternoon, Salaar took off of work early to accompany me to my appointment. I'm glad he was there so he could hear my new thoughts and perspective regarding Kamran and all that happened. Salaar didn't say anything nor did his encouraging smile change, but I hope he felt more assured about our marriage.
The therapist was happy seeing my improvement. She saw the examined the activities I submitted to her, some of which included writing about my thoughts and feelings the last several weeks, which had honestly fluctuated. Upon reading them, she told me something that really resonated with me, something that I was learning myself as I've been navigating through life these past few weeks: "Healing isn't linear."
Although I didn't make another appointment, she encouraged me to come back if it ever crosses my mind to. Afterwards, Salaar and I went to lunch then did groceries so he would be set for the upcoming week. I'd called our moms separately earlier that day to inform them of our new arrangement. Ami didn't discourage us, but Anne said that as much as she would love to have me home more often, she wasn't exactly so sure about it because she felt it was crucial for Salaar and I to spend time together to build our relationship and strengthen our marriage.
While I agreed, as I stood in front of him at the train station Sunday afternoon, I also felt that maybe the distance would be good for us. It would give me more time, particularly away from him, meaning from besides when he's at work, to process our new relationship and for me to further process and try to put behind me what's happened the last few weeks. It would reinforce that I'm not trying to cling onto him for emotional support nor was I doing anything to show anything to anyone. He deserves better. And I want to be better for myself and him.
"You know you can come visit too, right?" I chuckled softly, though my chest grew a bit tighter while he frowned.
"And you can come back sooner, if you would like," he hugged me to himself. "I'm going to miss you, baby," he murmured against my neck, and it took everything in me to not shiver from his warm breath hitting my skin.
"I'm going to miss you too. Two weeks will go by in the blink of an eye. You won't even realize it," I whispered.
This felt harder than it did when I last left to Manchester. Nothing had changed. Then why was this feeling a little different?
"No, it won't," he countered childishly.
I relished the warmth of his embrace, clinging onto him for as long as I could before his arms unclasped from around me. Unbeknownst to myself, I was frowning at the loss of the feelings of his arms holding me.
He sighed. "Take care of yourself for me."
"You too. There's still a few frozen curries from Ami and Anne in the freezer. Try to finish those. I also made some chicken karahi and aloo palak (potato spinach). They're in the containers with the red and blue lids in the fridge."
He smiled, looking at my lips.
"Oh! And no coffee before bed."
He chuckled, his orbs lingering on my mouth.
"I mean it, Salaar. I won't be there to wake you up in case you sleep through your alarm again."
He did that on a work night two weeks ago because he slept really late after having a vanilla cream cold brew. I was obligated to make it for him because he asked for it and I felt bad that he was tired while still working on something for work after he got home.
He rolled his eyes playfully, "Fine."
A smile tugged on my lips before I hugged him once more. I moved back slightly, still in his arms. I studied his eyes solemnly, "Are you sure you're okay with thi-"
A spark of mischief ignited in his eyes, his hazel orbs lowering back to my lips, "Ask me again, and I'll kiss you."
I gasped silently, making him chuckle quietly.
I moved back as he lowered his arms and I my gaze. I could feel him taking in my pink cheeks amusedly, which felt like they were setting on fire.
He pecked my temple, moving my roller luggage close to me. "Bye, machchar."
"Bye," I murmured.
When I reached my seat on the train, his words repeated in my head like a cyclone. I kept shifting in my chair, jerking my eyes towards the window, blinking several times, or pressing on my phone—trying to distract myself when my imagination made attempts at trying to picture his threat coming to fruition.
Salaar has nice lips. What would they feel like?
Be quiet, brain.
You were nervous about if he was going to use his Jenga prize to demand you kiss him.
BE. QUIET.
He seems like the type to put his hands on your waist while he kisses you.
OH. MY. GOSH. SHUT UP!
Would his kisses feel soft and slow? He also seems like the type who would smile during the kiss.
"Stop! Shut up!" I exclaimed aloud.
"Are you okay?" questioned the passenger sitting next to me, looking at me uneasily.
It was then that I realized the last part was not in my head.
"Yes. Sorry," I blurted sheepishly before cowering into the corner of my seat. I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes, "Great. Now everyone thinks you're crazy."
Kamran's P.O.V.
There was a knock on my office door, "You're still here, Kamran?"
I looked up from my laptop screen, pushing a smile to my lips, "Yeah. Heading home, Chang?"
"Yes. My girls are visiting tonight from out of town and the missus is preparing some fresh hand-pulled noodles. I'm excited."
It was Friday night.
"I bet."
"You should clock out for the day," he checked his watch, "It's 8:07 PM."
I nodded, closing my laptop.
I leaned back in my chair, tired, running my fingers through my hair when he spoke up again, "You don't have any plans with your girlfriend tonight? How is Heer by the way? Haven't heard you mention her in a while."
Any time anyone brought her up, I felt a pang of pain in my chest.
I stood up and slung my laptop bag over my shoulder, forcing a small, polite closed-mouth smile, "We, uh, broke up."
Because I f*cked up.
"Oh, sorry about that," he said sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about it? We could get some drinks?"
"Not tonight, thanks though," I gave him a pat on the shoulder while we walked out of my office.
I could go for a drink, but at the same time, what was the use? For what? Drowning myself in the intoxication of alcohol only numbed the pain for so long. I missed her like hell. She's on my mind whether or not I'm sober.
"Let me know."
I gave him a nod, "Enjoy with your family."
"Thanks, Kamran."
Family, I thought to myself as I began driving home. I'd envisioned having one of our own together. And she was the only sense of family I had felt in years. She'd grounded me, taken care of me, loved me.
And I threw it all away.
I didn't know whether or not it made me resent Imran Qureshi even more. I lost my father, my mother, my childhood, and, now, I lost the love of my life because of him too.
But I loved Heer. "You have some sort of misunderstanding. Baba isn't what you think of him-" My love for her makes me value her words, it makes me want to believe her. Those words have been locked in my head since I last saw her at the restaurant.
My head turned towards the familiar café as I drove past it.
I go to Hayat every now and then in hopes of seeing Heer, but she's never there. I buy something just so I can sit there under the pretense of getting some work done, but in reality, it's because it reminds me of the moments we've spent together and because a piece of me hopes she will show up. But I never order a drink. She was my favorite barista. The drinks made by her were my favorite, the ones made by others weren't the same. It adds to my guilt and sorrow to think it's because of my actions that I can no longer have them anymore.
I've thought about visiting London just to see her, to camp out in front of her flat, to, hell, f*cking blow up her phone with calls and texts until she answers, but I respect and love her. I distressed her far too much to add to her troubles anymore.
But I miss her so much, and nothing's hurt so bad like this.
Heer's P.O.V.
My phone was propped up against a jar on the counter. I was FaceTiming Salaar during my shift at Hayat.
It was Friday night. We were nearing the end to my first week back in Manchester. Anne and Baba had picked me up from the station on Sunday. Although they both thought I should be spending more time in London, they were overjoyed about having me home. It's been nice spending time with them and Uncle and Ami, but of course, I missed Salaar. We text and call quite a bit.
And while things have been good in general, for some reason, I haven't been feeling so great, or at least, as great as I thought I would've been.
I watched Salaar clink a spoon against a cup a few times, ridding it of the excess liquid, "Okay, love. I've mixed the vanilla sweet cream. Now what?"
"Put some ice in the glass you want to drink from," I instructed, observing with amusement.
He wanted to have his favorite drink, so I was teaching it to him since he had the day off tomorrow.
"Then?"
"Pour the cold brew."
"Oka-"
"Wait!"
"What?"
"It's cold, right?"
He dipped his finger into the pitcher to check the temperature, yanking it back out, "Ow!"
"Salaar!" my heart dropped as I called his name with worry. "Are you-"
"Just kidding," he chuckled, "I chilled it in the fridge. I'm fine, baby."
"Phone rakh doongi main, tab dekhna tum!" I pouted innocently.
(I'm going to hang up the phone, then you'll see)
"No," his eyebrows pulled together. "I've barely seen you as it is."
"Chup chaap daal do cup mein."
(Pour it into the cup quietly.)
"Ji, Fall Equinox Formal ke shehzadi," he mimicked me from before teasingly.
(Yes, princess of the Fall Equinox Formal.)
I laughed quietly. "I wasn't the shehzadi (princess)."
"Kyunki malika ho," he poured the cold brew.
(Because you're a queen.)
A smile tugged on my lips while I shook my head.
He added the vanilla sweet cream then took a sip, smacking his lips a few times while forming an opinion. He looked quite adorable.
"Hm, it's not bad. Lekin meri biwi ke haath ke banaye hue cheezon ka zaika kuch aur hi hai," he shrugged casually before walking to the bedroom with it.
(But the taste of the things made by my wife's hands are better.)
He was so smooth.
Had he always been like this?
"What are you doing? I thought you said you were painting before this."
"Yes, I was."
"In the bedroom?!"
"I've put newspaper on the carpet in case the paint spills. Don't worry, love."
"Can I see what you have so far? Where's the canvas?"
"Erm, on the wall."
"Show me. Flip the camera."
"Uh," he paused, looking at the wall in front of him.
"C'mon! You told me you would show me next time," I pouted childishly.
He bit his lip then switched the camera, showing me a really close view of an undistinguishable shape painted with different shades of red.
"Nice. Is it an abstract piece?"
"Sure?"
I laughed at the uncertainty in his voice.
He flipped the camera back to himself, his arm lifting in front of him as he stroked the canvas with a paintbrush, "Mr. Wilmore's granddaughter started today. She's interning at the office until summer. Her name's Melrose."
"What a pretty name. Melrose."
He took another sip, "When are you going home?"
"Soon. I should start getting things in order for closing. I'll call you before I go to bed."
"Drive safe, sweetheart."
"Thank you. Bye."
"Bye."
After wishing him goodnight, I woke up the next morning with a heavy feeling inside. It was reminiscent of the early days after my attempt. I got out of bed and took a hot shower, hoping the blues would go away, but it just wouldn't.
I called off work then went downstairs to join my parents for breakfast.
"You didn't go to work today, tatlım?"
I pushed my food around my plate, "I thought I'd take today off, Anne."
"Is Haniya working?"
"Yes."
"Oh, then do you want to come with Aiza and I to the mall? We're meeting a few other ladies there."
"No no. Thanks, Anne. Have fun with them."
"Then take some rest, beta," Baba suggested.
I nodded, pushing a small smile to my lips.
After they both left, I went back to my room and laid down until the time for the next namaz. Once I finished, I returned to my bed and went to asleep. I didn't want to do anything.
It wasn't until I retreated to my bedroom after dinner with my parents that I just began sobbing while I offered my Isha prayer. After I was done, I sat back down on the prayer mat. A voice in my head recalled a bunch of words out of nowhere, making me continue to bawl.
I thought I was doing better. I really did.
But when would things truly get better? When would everything stop hurting?
"I'll be f*cking d*mned if I married you, Heer Qureshi."
"Tell him I f*cked another woman on the day of his daughter's nikkah to me. Tell him I had no problem in doing so like he had no problem taking my father's wife... Tell him you all got what you deserved."
Is what I went through, him cheating on me, hating me, being disgusted by me, what I deserve?
"I would have never forgiven myself if married you. Get lost from here. Get out of my life, Heer Qureshi."
"Man, you're so selfish, Heer! Like seriously, look around you! All you care about is yourself."
Am I that worthless for people to just think of me as nothing? To throw me away? To hate me?
Am I that bad?
"Baba se abhi tak naraaz ho?"
To have upset so many people before... Perhaps I've failed as a daughter.
"This... This is good. He loves you, doesn't he?... No, not Haniya. He doesn't love Haniya."
As a friend.
"It's because I think she's using you as her rebound! You really think this is going to work out?... She was in a relationship with another man literally minutes before she married you. She hasn't even gotten time to process or heal from whatever it is that happened... Whatever this is, it's only going to end in pain, and I fear it's you who's going to be hurt the most."
As a wife.
I got up and stared at myself in the dressing table mirror, my eyes puffy, wet, and pink. The self-hatred was strong.
My body shook as I wept, thinking to myself that perhaps I'd deserved what's happened to me, that perhaps I do nothing but make people unhappy, that perhaps everyone was better off without me.
The buzzing of my phone, which was sat on the table, finally reached my ears. Salaar.
He deserved better the most.
There were several missed calls from him. We hadn't spoken all day except for the texts we'd exchanged after I had just woken up.
My lips trembled as I held the phone to my ear, unable to utter a word.
"Heer?! Why haven't you been answering my calls, love?! I was worried out of my mind. Is everything alright?"
I sobbed silently.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" he'd heard my shaky breathing. "Heer. Say something."
"Salaar," I bit my quivering lip.
"Yes, baby? What happened? Tell me. Is everything okay?"
I lowered my gaze as the tears continued to fall.
"Tell me what's going on."
"I feel alone," I whimpered.
He paused for a moment, trying to understand the situation before speaking, "You're not alone, love. I'm here. Uncle and Anne are there, Ami and Abu, Haniya. We're all here for you, sweetheart. We all love you-"
I shook my head, my voice quavering, "I don't love me."
"Heer," he took my name sternly.
"I don't make anyone happy," I cried, "It makes sense for what happened to have happened to someone like me, for people to dislike me. Maybe if I wasn't here-"
"No. Don't. Don't talk about yourself like that, Heer."
I sniffled.
"Do you even know how f*cking amazing you are? You are the sweetest, kindest, and most loving woman I've ever known. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, inside and out. You make me happy, you make your parents happy. There's nothing we could want more when it comes to you."
"I don't think so," I whispered.
"Well, we all think so. You go out of your way to make people's day. You lend everyone an ear, you say something when you notice something is off about them. You encourage them and try to cheer them up. You throw them surprise parties, buy them meaningful gifts to bring a smile to their face, buy the foods they've been craving even if it's several kilometers away. Your heart is clean and pure, your always trying to help and forgive others when they don't even deserve it. You put others before yourself every time without even giving yourself a second thought. I wish I was like you, Heer."
I wiped my tears and sat down on my bed.
"You haven't done a single thing to have 'deserved' what you experienced... I wish I could explain to you in words why and how much I love you, but words wouldn't do it justice. I consider myself so blessed to be married to you, to be in love with you, that fate chose to intertwine our lives together so I could know you. You don't understand how much it hurts me to hear you be upset with yourself, and you don't understand how angry it makes me to think of people hurting you to the extent that you feel like this. There's nothing you deserve more than to feel loved, than to be happy. To me, you're brighter than the sun. To me, you're the entire galaxy, Heer Qureshi."
A fresh set of tears rolled down my cheeks. What had I done to have been blessed with someone who felt so strongly for me?
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for answering my call and for sharing with me."
"I was just feeling low all day-"
"You're human. You're allowed to feel whatever emotions you're feeling, but don't let them consume you. You're going to have to remind yourself that you need to be kind to yourself, sweetheart. At the end of the day, it's you who picks yourself off the ground when you fall, you are the one who takes care of yourself, you have a relationship with yourself, you need to treat yourself as tenderly as you treat others. You wouldn't think those things, let alone say those things about other people. Don't let your mind pit itself against you. You and your mind are and should be on the same team. You are strong, love. You have to be kind and gentle to yourself."
I listened to his words carefully. He was right. One's relationship with their own self is one of the most important and longest running relationship anyone can have. It's important to treat yourself nicely. It's hard when my thoughts work actively to do otherwise, but I'll need to try harder to avoid them and be proactive. I will have to be easier on myself too; like the therapist said, healing isn't linear.
I couldn't help but also marvel at how sweet he was. I wish he was here. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him hug me.
"Thank you, Salaar. I needed that."
"Of course, baby. Any time you feel like this again, just call me... Lekin agar phir se meri biwi ke baare mein aise baat ki toh mujhse bura koi nahin hoga, samjhi?" he ended lightheartedly.
(But if you speak like that about my wife again, then there isn't going to be anyone worse than me, understood?)
A watery chuckle left my lips, nodding, "Yes."
"Good. Are you in bed?"
"Mhm," I removed my hijab and laid down.
"What did you eat?"
We continued speaking until I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I tried pulling the comforter closer to myself, but it felt like it was stuck.
"Love," Salaar called in his deep morning voice, slinging an arm over my waist to stop me from moving.
"I'm cold," I mumbled, my eyes still closed, tugging at the blanket.
He removed his arm briefly and moved more of the comforter onto me before wrapping his arm around my waist again, pulling me against him in one swift motion. We were now sharing the same pillow.
I glanced over my shoulder sleepily, "Salaar?"
What?
My eyes widened, "Salaar?!"
His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes glued shut, "Go back to sleep, baby."
He was really here! And he was shirtless and in his boxer briefs again.
"What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you," he murmured.
"When did you arrive here? How did you get into my room?!"
"2 AM. The window. Now, shh. I'm sleeping," he cuddled me to him.
I couldn't help but smile to myself.
Before I got married and was working, I would usually sleep in on Sundays if I had the day off, so my parents didn't wake me. I didn't have work today. I naturally woke up around 10:30.
I let Salaar sleep while I got ready. I couldn't help but giggle to myself when I found he had had locked my bedroom door so Anne wouldn't be able to enter.
After patting some moisturizer into my face, I rummaged through the duffle bag he brought and set out his clothes and toothbrush for him. He came so late, I'm sure Ami and Uncle doesn't even know he's in Manchester.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," I greeted his sleeping figure gently, combing my fingers through his hair while I sat next to him on the edge of the bed.
"Good morning," he blinked the sleep away before giving me a sleepy smile. He sat up then stretched.
My eyes flew to his arms.
How were his muscles so defined right now? They must feel so firm to the touch.
Not again! Stop. Don't look at his muscles.
My eyes moved to his face quickly.
And his lips look so pouty since he's just woken up.
Stop that!
His eyebrows furrowed, "Stop what?"
"W-what?"
"You said 'Stop that.' What did I do?" he asked innocently.
"Nothing. I didn't mean to say that." Well, out loud.
I stood up and turned around when he caught my hand, tugging me back to sit again, "Where are you going? Give me a hug, love. I haven't seen you in a week. I missed you."
My arms drew around him after his embraced me tightly. "I was just going to open the curtains."
"It can wait." He sighed contently.
I closed my eyes, nuzzling my face against the crook of his neck.
Only if his job were here instead.
"What are you doing here?" I looked at him, in his arms.
"I had to see if you're alright," he studied me with tender eyes.
"I'm fine," I reassured him softly.
He pressed a kiss to my nose, rendering my heart to skip a beat.
"Thank you for coming. What about your job? It's going to be so tough driving back and then going in tomorrow."
"I messaged Mr. Wilmore asking if I could work remote tomorrow, and he agreed. I need to make a digital version of my design, so I would be working on my laptop all day anyway. I'll be leaving tomorrow night."
I smiled. "Did you tell Ami and Uncle you're here?"
"No. I would've had to stop home first before reaching you."
"Let's have breakfast here and then we'll go surprise them. I took out your things. You can use my bathroom."
He nodded. I began getting up when he stopped me again, smiling, "I also thought of what I wanted you to do since I won the Jenga game."
I tilted my head curiously, "What?"
"I want you to go on a date with me tonight, Heer."