Key To Their Hearts

13-Two Groups

Started Typing On – 04/05/2019

Started ReTyping On – 06/05/2019

Chapter 13-Two Groups

Siya's Pov:

Whelp. No cooking for ten days, saves my time and grocery. As hard as it sounds to believe I don't like cooking. I love eating, it's the best thing in the world but coming home after a tiring day then cooking can just be too much. If you ask me what I regret the most—many things but number one is—my mother's food. I had to just yell her name once I stepped inside the house and she understood exactly what I wanted.

I was writing down some notes to pass on to Harsh when I got an email from the boss himself, he wanted to see me with the papers he had sent to the printer around two minutes ago. It should be printed by now and it was. I clutched the warm papers into my hand and instantly letting myself melting from the warmth. One, two, three, four, five—my dry fingers kept flipping through the pages, counting the exact number of pages to tell Harsh.

I wet my fingertip in order to flip through the pages, my whole attention on the papers in my hand and the floor sliding beneath my feet as I kept walking ahead. The wind from the approaching fan swirling above me blew my hair into my face as I kept walking ahead with full concentration, my left finger hurried it's way and grasped my open—little over—shoulder length hair and tucked them under my ear.

With a heavy sigh I accepted the papers were above twelve papers, thirteen, fourteen, fif—and my knee touches a very hard thing, I presume a chair and I lost my balance, my face basically few inches away from touching the floor, thankfully my knees were in support and intact. How cleaver of me!

I take anxious filled gulps to seize the papers gracing the clean white floor before someone catches my clumsy-self all embarrassed doing nothing rather than ruining everything around me. "I dare you to fill this small pot up with water without spilling any." I remember how much my elder brother enjoyed himself seeing me fall here and there.

Pot.

He called that gigantic clay pot which was larger than my head 'small,' like great. I did as he had asked me years back, and of course he was right. I spilled half of the water on my way back making him burst out laughing, telling the whole village how clumsy and entertaining his little sister was.

The corner of my lip twitched upwards into a tiny smile but it didn't reach my face, it was ripped away before I could even feel it. I miss you, brother. "Can you do anything properly?" The familiar voice was icy and the question was rather harsh than normal. I pulled my eyes away from the few papers in my hand now to see the tallest man I've ever seen. If he was nice I'd probably joked asking, 'how's the weather up there?' and laugh but Rahul isn't the type of person you'd joke around.

He's boring. I guess.

His jaw was clenched, hands fisted and rage pounding through his veins visible since his shirt sleeves were rolled up. I should swallow hard since I reach only his shoulder and he's angry but my surrounding made me feel strong. For once. His eyebrows were knitted together in a frown as if he just proposed his girlfriend and she rejected him instantly without thinking twice.

But who am I kidding? Bhatt can't even smile, how the hell would he tolerate a girlfriend? You're supposed to be romantic or engaged into the conversation and from what I know he's always in a serious long term relationship with his temper.

Indian hulk right here. I wonder where his Black Widow is. Probably wearing a white saree. I burst out laughing at my imagination. Black Widow in white saree gives me ideas of a witch more than a pr—"What's so funny?" My laugh and smile trails of seeing his strongly put gaze on me.