Don't Remind Me

Chapter 43: The Healing

Being around someone, after they confess their feelings for you, is weird. There's this breathless anticipation whenever we're together. That someone might say something more.

Maybe I'm waiting for him to broach that topic again.

Maybe he's waiting for me to let him know that I feel the same way too.

It's constantly agonizing. Deliciously exhausting...

It's a feeling that I'm unwillingly getting used to. Because for the past few weeks. Azaan has gone to ridiculous lengths, to prove that I can count on him. He has proved to me, that I can do just enough-alone, if I choose to, because I'm strong enough, but I'd be able to do much more than just enough if I just let him in.

First it was the Chandi case. He arranged for a political sanctuary for the young girl, using his father's connections in the ISI. The Sindh High Court had deliberately dragged its feet, in giving out a decision on her divorce and emancipation rights (In simple terms; they wanted to gauge the political expectations attached to this case. And in even simpler terms, they wanted to see who had more of the public's support and influence; Me or Musa).

Until Zaif's case could be reviewed, my Dad managed to finagle a softer, house-arrest situation for him. And throughout the release process, Azaan was the one rushing to arrange for political security, through his contacts. He stood by my side in the local Police Station for hours, until we finally got to see Zaif, and bring him home, with his entourage of police escort.

Azaan also helped me draft public statements, when my mind couldn't function through all that pressure.

And then Azaan surprised me during a visit to his offices.

I'd been fuming over the loss of my own office space one day, when he nonchalantly asked Fahad and me, to drop in for a meeting about our joint venture.

"Azzy is probably gymming right now. It's his break right now." A chatty co-worker of his helpfully informed me during my elevator ride to his floor.

Azzy!?

I controlled the urge to scratch her pretty face for this familiarity. But I was afraid that she'd fight dirty. She was way taller than me...

"Oh. Azaan didn't mention where his gym is." I smiled politely. In fact he didn't even mention that his offices had gym facilities. To be honest, I hadn't expected his company to be that successful yet. He had launched it just a year ago..

"Oh. No probs. The Gym and Rec-rooms are on the fourth floor. The Main offices are on sixth."

"Thanks." I muttered.

"Try not to drool too much. He doesn't like being stared at." She winked in what she supposed was a conspiratorial feminine camaraderie.

"I'll do my best to control myself" I rolled my eyes.

I told Fahad to grab some breakfast for us, before strutting off towards the fourth floor gym.

The first thing I saw when the automatic glass doors opened, was the gorgeous woman leaning over Azaan as he did push-ups. She had a whistle hanging from her neck, nestled between her ample cleavage. A hot pink leather spots bra-strap was visible at her shoulders, from under the baggy shirt falling off it. Her dark hair was swept into a bun at the crown of her head, and when she turned around to gape at me, I saw that her shirt appropriately read; "Always Flawless".

"35...34...33..." she kept yelling at Azaan, while he huffed through the set. Her hand was at the small of his back, ensuring that his posture was perfect.