BEING YOURS

CHAPTER FIVE

She woke up on a silky soft material, the mattress as fluffy as a mass of feathers. The atmosphere was cold, very cold, and she noticed she had a blocked nose even though huddled under the comforter.

Her eyes flickered open and she sniffed as she turned over, her mind still hazy and muffled more into the sheets.

But as soon as his sovereign scent engulfed her, her system knew it got the perfect shot of coffee to kick start it for the day.

She jerked up to a sitting position, her heart pounding erratically.

Subhanallah! What am I doing here?!

She looked around the room, nobody's there. Her fingers went up to her head and sifted through it.

My cap's gone! Crap.

Out of bed, she tried finding her phone. How did I even get to his room?!

You fell asleep idiot! She literally felt the smack her subconscious gave her.

"Oh me Allah." Her palms went flying to her mouth. "I fell asleep next to him! And he carried me to his room?! Aaarrrgh! Where's my notebook? What's the time? Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un!"

She turned around on her feet, no wall clock. Who doesn't have a clock in his room?!

You don't have one either. Another smack.

"Jeez." She stormed out.

The notebooks and her cap were on the table in his sitting room and a sigh of relief escaped her lips.

What would he have done with your silly notebooks? It asked again.

"I don't know. Nothing." She took them with her and headed for her room.

The time read a quarter past six.

She proceeded for the bathroom to prepare for the day.

In no mood for dressing up, she just wore a blush high-waist maxi skirt over an off-white tight long sleeve shirt, put on a cream knee-lenght hijab and took her black leather shoulder bag then complimented it with a casual slippers.

After praying, she went to the bed where she'd kept the notebooks so she could snap the ones she couldn't copy as she's giving it back to the owner that day.

Yeah, she grasps things more when she wrote them down than when she read so she didn't photocopy.

To her greatest surprise, her note was complete.

Like, completely completely complete.

Even the ones she's skipped from the beginning of the semester, the ones she's left space to copy when she's too lazy to write, everything.

Her jaws sure as fate touched the floor and her eyes too. Who did this?

Certainly she knew she didn't copy more than three pages before she dozed off, and what she's seeing there was more than twelve pages long.

She's still in her musing when her phone pinged.

I'm taking a cup of coffee, I need it for the day.

"Oh my God! Did he do this?" She asked, still looking at the single line.

Don't be so dump! Who else would?!

"Oh my God." She slumped to the floor, her hands falling beside her and eyes on the filled up pages of her book.

The handwriting was recherche, italic and slightly indecipherable because of the slender strokes and entangled letters but strikingly neat and calligraphic, it's a piece of art on its own.