The Writer's Love Affair

Episode 8: Good Night

Episode 8: Good Night

Christopher carefully released Leslie as her body reached the soft material of the bed. He watched as she pulled the comforter up to her chin, staring at him. The woman was feeling irked by his imperviousness. It was as if there had been no breakthrough with him since the moment they had met. It was dispiriting to say the least. So she stayed still and did nothing as his eyes started to roam the expanse of her room.

With a slight curve of his lips, indicating his disapproval he aired, "Do you even clean your room?"

Her forehead creased unpleasantly with the annoyance she was feeling at his jab.

"I didn't think there would come a day I would be bragging about my obsessive nature of keeping my surroundings clean but I'm usually a neat freak. This only happened because I'm sick and have no energy to fix anything." She indicated to the untidy room before them.

He shook his head in a noncommittal manner before walking towards crumpled up papers and it wasn't until he started disposing of them in the waste bin that she realized what he was doing.

Christopher was cleaning her place.

"An unhygienic surrounding won't help to make your cold go away. If anything it can make it worse." He said between placing the tossed books in their right place on the bookshelf.

She saw his eyes raise upon seeing that a good number of them had his name on the front.

"You don't have to..." Leslie was honestly at a loss of words when he did stuff like this.

The worst part about it all was the nonchalance in which he meted out such rare moments of kindness.

"I'll do it myself tomorrow when I hopefully feel better." She finished strongly.

Christopher nodded, showing that he had heard every word she said, however the man never stopped his arrangement of her room. And as she watched him silently in awe of his tenderness, the woman found herself shocked at how he was unknowingly getting involved in her life.

At every movement he made, getting rid of the wrappers, folding her clothes and patting down the edges of her sheet as he returned back to her side, she got a sense of warmth she had never felt from him before. He was always so aloof that it was hard for her eyes to believe. Even more so when he stared down at her before his hand rested on her forehead to check her temperature.

Her cheeks heated up instantly. "I think your fever has subsided." Then his eyes took notice of the colour seeping into her skin and he frowned. "Or maybe not..."

She turned her head to the side, making his hand slip off her face.

"Could you pass me the glass of water there?"

He looked around and saw the glass she spoke of on the bedside table and handed it to her.

But she didn't take it, just refused to look him in the eyes as she picked at the edge of the sheet. He exhaled deeply at her attitude. "What is it now?"

"I think my arms are numb, do you think you could feed me?" Her eyes met his innocently at the end of her request. He froze when her eyelashes batted themselves at him.

Against his better judgement, he robotically placed the tip of the glass against her lips. She suppressed the urge to smile at the way he was avoiding any kind of eye contact as he did so. As he pulled away and placed the glass down, Christopher's eyes traveled to the watch on his wrist.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave. You've already taken your last medication for the day so it won't be difficult for you to fall asleep." He stood and gave her a polite nod of farewell. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow then."