I can feel Your heartbeat

Chapter 8

Amina jerked awake, panicked, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her whole body was tense, her heart pounding in her chest as if she were still fleeing the shadows of her nightmare. For a moment, she couldn't tell where she was, the darkness of the room blending with the remnants of her dream. She sat up, her eyes darting around, seeking something familiar. Gradually, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the small window brought her back to reality. She was in her room, safe, but the fear lingered, making it hard for her to calm down. The moonlight cast ethereal patterns on the walls and floor, bathing the room in a ghostly glow.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, cool against her flushed skin. As she raised her hand to wipe the sweat away, she caught a faint smell of him. She paused, then brought the sleeve of the oversized shirt to her nose, inhaling deeply. Imran's scent lingered on the fabric—a subtle mix of soap, a hint of spice, and something uniquely him.

A wave of warmth spread through her, and she felt a soft blush rise to her cheeks. Her heart, which had been racing moments before, now beat with a comforting rhythm. She noticed how her unsteady heart had become steady in a fraction of a second. A beautiful smile covered her face as she kept thinking about Imran. She brought the sleeve back to her nose, inhaling once more, her smile growing bigger and bigger until her cheeks hurt.

She replayed the memory of him picking her up and carrying her to this room. It had been a sudden movement but impactful enough to take her breath away. His masculine fragrance still lingered in her nostrils. She felt a surge of shyness and looked around the room for some distraction, her smile lingering as she sought to calm the emotions swirling within her.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:34 AM. It was the middle of the night, and the house was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock. Pushing the damp covers aside, Amina swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The cool tile floor greeted her bare feet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed.

She walked to the window and stood there, clutching the hem of the oversized shirt she wore. It was a garment that had become a source of unexpected comfort. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered Imran's ridiculous lie about donating all her clothes to charity. It had been such a transparent fabrication, and she could still picture the look on his face as he tried to convince her, like an innocent boy desperately explaining to his teacher how his dog ate his homework. How could she not believe his lie when he said it to her with those puppy eyes?

She touched the frame, feeling the thick layer of dirt that had accumulated over time. With a small cough, she pushed the window open, the old hinges creaking in protest. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the fresh scent of the earth and the faint rustle of leaves. She shivered slightly as the breeze lifted the loose shirt around her like a flowing robe, making her appear almost ethereal in the moonlight.

She rubbed her hands together to clean them, the dirt and dust falling away. The city of Delhi lay quiet outside, with only the distant hum of a few late-night vehicles breaking the silence. Streetlights cast long shadows, and the occasional bark of a stray dog echoed through the empty streets.

As she gazed out at the city, a tender smile spread across her lips. She remembered Imran's earnest expression, the way he had fumbled with his words. His ridiculous lie had been delivered with such sincerity that she couldn't help but feel a warm glow in her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself in a gentle hug, her mind conjuring the comforting image of him embracing her. In her imagination, his arms were strong and reassuring, holding her close, making her feel safe and cherished. The thought made her smile grow even wider, her cheeks tingling with a sweet blush.

She scolded herself for such thoughts. Even the cold breeze of the night failed to cool her now heated body. She cleared her throat several times, trying to shake off the feelings that had taken over. With a sigh, she realized that thanks to the nightmare, she didn't feel sleepy anymore. Amina decided she couldn't just stand there all night. She needed something to do, something to keep her mind off the nightmare. She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the pile of clothes she had worn at the hospital, folded neatly in a corner. They needed washing, and it seemed as good a task as any to occupy her restless mind.