Like Chalk And Cheese [Completed]

I lied

It had to be past ten when I got back, and was, I admit, a bit surprised to find him still awake, and out of his room. Well, sorta.

He stood up from the couch when I closed the main door and walked in.

"Took you long enough. I was about to call."

"You were sleeping." I stated, keeping a straight face. It was hard to not blush, looking at his rough, sleepy state and while remembering all the good things Mama Jaan had said about him.

His hair that was always otherwise neatly set and combed, were disheveled, strands of it falling down to his eyes. He wore a white cotton shirt and simple gray pyjama pants, and God he still managed to look heavenly. I could only pray to the Lord that I didn't appear to be gawking at him.

"Well," he shrugged, "not really. I just dozed off."

"Whatever." I muttered and stalked towards my room.

"Still mad?"

I arched my body a little to face him and said as I regarded him with a sour look. "No, I'm not mad. I just...strongly hate you now. I hate you with passion, like I did when I used to believe that you were a cold-blooded murderer." I ranted, and, throwing him a last contemptuous look, turned round to stomp to the room.

I thought he'd say something, but he didn't, and his expressions as usual didn't hint to what he was feeling, were as flat as a stupid playdough, and it was beginning to get under my skin. His ability to put up an inscrutable front was infuriating to no extent.

---

Before sleep could take me far far away from reality, not to forget how effortful that feat was to accomplish, I was wondering whatever happened to his policy of not skipping our meals. He had stopped calling me for breakfast and dinner, and it kinda stung, to know that he wasn't really making any efforts, that he didn't really care that much to get back into good terms with me. Maybe I shouldn't too. Because deep down somewhere inside of me, I knew, no matter how many times I told myself that I hated him, and didn't care too, that I actually did. I cared how he treated me, what he thought of me. But I didn't like to admit that to my heart, because if I did, I knew where exactly it was going to take me. And I knew the consequences of taking that road. And how futile and pointless it was too.

A sheer waste of energy. Hopeless.

---

The knock on the door didn't wake me up, because I was already awake. I couldn't go back to sleep after the morning prayers. The various thoughts brimming in my mind just wouldn't let me.

I thought it was Amir, calling me for breakfast on his order. Even though a soft glow bloomed in my heart, I vehemently ignored it, and called out through the closed door, as I kept lying on the bed.

"I'm not hungry!" I shouted, and burying my face into the pillow, I closed my eyes.

There was another light knock, before I heard the turn of the knob and then the door was opened. I sat up with a jerk.

"I figured that much." He was saying, while taking a step into the room.

I blinked. Did I really leave the door unlocked again?

"The breakfast session is long over anyway, tell Amir to prepare it for you whenever you feel like eating." He was wearing a gray suit today. How many colors did he have?

While trying not to look too obvious, I skimmed my hand around me on the bed in order to locate the dupatta I used for praying. I was wearing a freaking t-shirt, and I had never, ever come out in front of any man - save for Rohan for obvious reasons - in any indecent clothes, even in pyjamas, and definitely not without a scarf.