Husband For Hire

30. Keep it PG-13

30. Keep it PG-13
You're my favorite serf.

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[Anmol's POV]

I had fallen asleep with one hand on the suitcase. In case he tried to sneak out, I'd be jerked awake. However, that wasn't the case.

Ashar didn't return home until late evening.

If it wasn't for the turning of the doorknob and my room's door creaking open, I wouldn't have known.

I sat up straight in bed.

He turned the light on blinding me for a second. I didn't see any documents in his hands. Had mom told him to wait?

His face was expressionless as he looked between the suitcase and me.

He turned the light off again and went to the sofa. He put his blanket on himself and I assumed he was trying to fall asleep. Ashar never failed to surprise me.

Since he didn't reach for his suitcase, I figured my mother had worked her magic and blackmailed him into staying. Sometimes, she made the right decisions. She probably snuck in serious legal conditions in case he attempted to divorce me.

Gratitude was due for my mother. Why did it take her six plus hours to convince him?

I woke up only to find Ashar missing. At least his luggage was still at the same spot. I heard faint noises coming from my closet. When I neared it, I heard Ashar's clearly upset voice. He was speaking in Punjabi to someone. Though I couldn't speak it, I heard my dad speak it enough to understand it.

"No," Ashar kept repeating. "No . . . He called once when my mother died . . . I have no interest in his property. Neither does Aara . . . Sure, ask Arsalan bhai (brother). . . I'm telling you this for the last time. He stopped being my father the day he married you!"

I thought Ashar was harsh on me, but it was nowhere close to the way he treated whoever he was talking to on the phone. This was the first time I heard him mention his father and his brother. I only recognized the brother's name from Ashar's background check.

"It's not my duty!" Ashar snapped loudly and then lowered his voice again. "He's not our father . . . Let him die without seeing his kids. He was doing well the past fifteen years. What difference does it make now? . . . No. No . . . I don't know about him, but Aara and I are not coming!"

I snuck away from the closet as I heard movement. It was in vain because Ashar didn't step out with his phone until five minutes later.

He glanced at me perched up on the bed, pretending to do my morning yoga.

Without uttering a single word, he left the room with his phone. I took a shower quickly before checking in on Aara to see how she was doing. Ashar was on his way out of her room.

He blocked Aara's doorway threshold like a thug.

"Excuse me," I said.

"My sister's resting," he said in a low voice, keeping a hand on the door frame. "Don't disturb her."

I stood on my tippy toes to look over his shoulder. She was in her bed tapping furiously on her phone. I ducked under Ashar's arm to get inside. He grabbed my wrist to pull me back. 

"Let go," I warned, trying to break free.

"Leave," he said, leaning next to my ear.

He was close enough for me to smell the fruity soap smell coming from his body mixed with woody, leathery cologne. He must've taken a shower before that phone call. I was having a hard time remembering how to breathe with how close he stood to me. I looked into his deep eyes which still held disappointment and frustration for me.