Like Chalk And Cheese [Completed]

His nice behaviour

"Bibi Jee?"

I stirred in sleep. Was someone calling me?

"Bibi Jee?"

My eyelids fluttered as my drowsy mind tried to wrap around the sudden influx of chaos.

"Bibi Jee, are you up?"

I registered the voice coming from behind the door and in a moment recognised it as Amir's.

I groaned, turning on the bed. "Now what?"

"Breakfast is-"

"I'm not hungry!" I shouted from the bed. Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I changed sides, my back now facing the door.

I could never understand how people lose appetite and sleep during traumatic times. Because I for sure hadn't. I was starving like crazy and had slept quite well.

"Bibi Jee?"

Oh God. Why was he back? I groaned again.

"What?" With a jerk I got up and snapped at the door.

There was a pause and then he spoke again, for some reason sounding sheepish. "Um, Bibi Jee, Agha Saab wants to know if you'd be coming for breakfast yourself, or you'd rather he came to pick you up and carry you to the table."

A sudden fear gripped my heart as it gave a loud thud against my chest. "I'm coming." I said as I hastily threw the blanket away and got down from the bed. Shoving my feet into the slippers, I rushed into the washroom.

I did a quick mouthwash, splashed water on my face and, doing a messy bun of my hair, I left the room, dabbing my scarf on my wet face.

Halting a couple of feet away from the dining table set across from the glass doors, through which bright morning sunlight was washing in, I tried to calm my irregular breathing, and bring some warmth into my cold hands.

He sat on the head chair, all dressed for work cladded in a black suit. He might have sensed me, for he looked up from his phone.

"Come sit." He said, motioning towards the chair to his right.

Because I had nothing else to do but oblige, I walked to the table and perched down on the chair. Gazing ahead at the lawn visible through the glass, I noticed it was a nice place to set the table.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Nothing." I muttered, looking down at my wringing hands and realised that they were shaking. "I'm not hungry." And as I spoke those words out loud, my stomach gave a loud rumble.

"Don't lie. Of course you're hungry. Besides, you're upset with the people, not with the Lord. And food comes from the Lord, not from the people."

I lowered my head. His eyes trained on me were freaking me out. Why was he being so nice? I thought he'd lash out at me for all the nasty things I did to him the moment he'd get the chance.

"So what do you want to eat?"

Staring at the checkered table mat, I mumbled. "Anything."

He paused for a brief moment, and when he spoke again, I thought I sensed him smile. "That'd be unfortunate, because Amir doesn't know how to cook anything."

My eyes snapped up at him.

"And . . . that was quite lame."

Regardless, the corner of my lips had slightly twitched. "Um, boiled egg."

In all the grimness suffocating me, the disappointed and disgusted glances being thrown my way, his normal behaviour and his effort to lighten the atmosphere was like an overwhelming gust of fresh air. But why was he acting as if everything really was normal, and as if he and I, for some miraculous reason, were on good terms.