All is Fair

Chapter 27

Sanaa left before dinner. Rasheed lay on his bed, somehow feeling at ease. It was a sense of absolute stillness, a calm solitude; the sort when you're stranded in the midst of nature. when time itself flows like a stream of water. Rasheed had checked himself in the mirror. He somehow looked decent, cleaned-up. He didn't look like the usual ragdoll chewed out by a dog.

He could flex his fingers better and lift his arm. Whatever she had done, she had done well. He was already feeling a lot better. He took out his phone from his trouser pocket. He opened the phone app. His finger hovered over Sanaa's number. He had these feelings that he wanted to express to her. But what were they?

Gratitude? Happiness? Safety? Comfort? Rasheed frowned. He opened the messaging app instead. He hurried to type out a 'Thank You' and sent it before he could stop himself. He looked up at the pale ceiling, the moonlight giving it a nostalgic shade of grey. He let out a long, restful sigh. As the cottony warmth of her kindness washed over him. He smiled as his eyes grew heavy with sleep.

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Rasheed woke up to bright sunlight. The curtains had been fully drawn aside. The window was open. Deepak sat at the table near the window. He was munching on something. Rasheed sat up.

"What time is it? When did you come? What are you doing here anyway?" He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Who let you in?" He stretched and winced. "What are you eating?" He looked at the plate on the table.

"Amma sent me up with your breakfast." Deepak said. "She knows."

Rasheed froz mid-step to the bathroom. "How? Who told her?" He panicked. His mind immediately went to Sanaa.

"No one. She figured it out."

Rasheed looked on in silence. "Why are you so casual about her knowing all this? You're a part of this too."

"She's known for a few years, apparently." Deepak shrugged. His hand went to the plate again. Rasheed took the plate, slapping away his friend's hand.

"It's my breakfast, not yours." He grumbled.

Deepak tried to get the plate back. "It's not yours, it's ours. Learn to share."

Rasheed pushed him away. "No way I'm sharing my breakfast with you."

His mother entered the room. She had two cups of tea in her hands.

"Amma," Deepak rushed over to her. "Look at him. He's not letting me eat."

His mother set down the cups on the table. She then put a hand to Deepak's arm. "You don't have to worry about this oversized human eating everybody's food. You come down to the kitchen. I'll make you some fresh, crispy pooris and vadas. Let him have the cold, dry dosas."

Deepak nodded his head happily. "Okay, ma."

Rasheed stared at the two of them, confused. "But... I... ma... Wait..." they were both gone out of earshot.

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The pen flew from his hand. Next came the books. They all lay scattered on the floor. The sudden noise, a sharp stab on the hour-long silence. Sanaa almost jumped out of her skin.

It was a bright Saturday morning. It was Sanaa's turn to be with Rasheed and help him with his studies. She was on the bed, her books neatly ordered. He was at his desk, his books scattered on the floor. She got down from the bed and held back Rasheed's arm before he could punch the desk. She pulled him away from his desk. She led him to his bed.

"Sit!" She said, handing him her water bottle.

She then began picking up his books. Her water bottle flew past her hand. She shot upright. And whipped around to glare at the immature child who had thrown the bottle.

"What is your problem?!" She burst out.

"Stop doing that. You don't have to clear my mess for me."

"But, your books!"

"Let them be." He looked out the window, nose scrunched up. He felt the mattress dip as she sat down beside him.

"What happened?" She asked, as soft as the light breeze coming through the window. He almost pulled her close to rest his head on her shoulder. Almost.

He looked down at his swollen hand. "I feel useless. I can't even complete four pages of written work."

"It's not your fault. Let your hand rest. I'll write it for you."

He clenched his jaw. "Stop saying stupid things like that. I don't want you to do anything for me." He pointed to her books. "Do your work. I'll do mine." He lay his head against the headboard. The soft pillows cushioning his back. "Later. I'll do my work later." He closed his eyes.

She took one long look at him and sighed, vexed. She went back to her books.

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Sanaa's P.O.V.:

So there I was, breaking my head over a Jung theory. I flipped through my notes, annoyed. All the theories were mixing up in my mind. But at least I was in Rasheed's room. It was more quiet, and airy, compared to my room. His room was the perfect environment to study in. I had spent the longest time ever studying without a break. Suddenly, my heartbeat sped up. I could feel it. I was being watched. I sharply turned towards the source. A gust of wind flipped my hair.

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Rasheed's P.o.V.:

I knew I was being creepy. But I couldn't help it. Something about her perplexed me. The way she frowned down at her books. The way she tapped her forefinger against her nose, when she was confused. The way she fisted her hands when she was finally grasping the content. She intrigued me. I'd never seen someone study so wholeheartedly. Her mannerisms oddly attracted me. She was sweet, in a way. I guess.

Warm comfort. That was all that I felt around her. I could vividly remember a time when thunderstorms had clapped outside. Bright white lights and sudden bursts of noise. The whole house had been submerged in darkness. My only source of comfort, the only place I could hide under, was a heavy fur blanket and a heap of pillows. That's what she felt like. A place I could hide under. A place that would provide me warmth and comfort. My safe place in the thunderstorms.

Suddenly, she turned to face me.The way her hair flipped in the breeze. I caught my breath.

We both sat staring wide-eyed at each other. What was going on? Why wouldn't she look away?

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Sanaa's P.O.V.:

What was his problem? Why was he staring at me like that? The way he was lost in thought, his gaze boring into me. How long had he been looking at me? His eyes widened in surprise, when he realised that he had been caught staring. Why couldn't I look away? I felt the warmth on my neck crawl its way up to my cheeks. Why was I feeling hot inspite of the cool breeze that was playing with my hair?

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