I don't know what this is. Read at your own risk.😆😆 The thoughts are in italics.
B for….Beparwah
Virat squeezed his eye shut and snuggled deeper into his pillow as he heard the bathroom door open. The citrus fragrance of her shower gel met his nose almost instantly, invigorating his senses. He could hear her tip-toeing around the room, lest she disturbs him.
Breathe Virat.
Do not open your eyes!
Do not move.
*Gulp*
He realized with absolute horror that he was facing the vanity, yet again. The damned vanity in front of which she would be lazily sitting. Doing her hair, rubbing lotion on her hands, applying make-up, with not a single care of the tortured soul who was trying his best to breathe. God only knew why she needed so much time to get ready, when she was already so….
No.
Don’t you dare go there Virat.
Even the strictest warning of his mind could not stop his lip curling into a smile.
Sai usually got up before him to use the bathroom first and then proceeded to get ready while she thought he was sound asleep. But, he wasn’t. Owing to his training days, he had the habit of waking early in the morning and then, would laze around until he could muster the will to get up. Somehow, somewhere along the line things had changed between them, but Virat being Virat was scared of naming the attraction.
Zimmedari she was.
And so, Virat had spent the past week googling his predicament to find a solution to the fluttering butterflies that appeared his stomach whenever she was around. Unfortunately for him, Google could not provide him with a relevant answer to his confused queries which ranged from ‘how to stop staring’ to ‘the definition of Zimmedari’.
With eyes still tightly shut (and his nose smelling the lavender body lotion), he inhaled and exhaled so deeply that he made a mental note to check later whether he’s develop abs in the process.
Count.
100,99,98……
Ok, think about other things. Football. Books. Ice Cream. Buttersco…
Not working!
Something different.
A Poem.
Akkad bakkad bambe bo
Assi nabbey poorey Sau
Sau me laga dhaaga
Chor nikal ke bhaaga.
Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.
Achoo.
Hearing her sneeze, he opened his eyes and sat up in bed in lightning speed, ready to give her a piece of his mind. The remaining of what was left, that it!
There she was in all her glory, sitting on the pouf, now drying her wet hairs, without a care of the world. She had not noticed that he was up, and so, he did what he was doing best these days: forgetting his resolve and staring at her like a lost puppy. He must have been like that for a few minutes because when he came back to earth, she was standing in front of the bed throwing weird looks his ways.
You idiot!
He mentally slapped his face as he realized that he had a stupid grin on his face.
“Sai, how many times have I told you not to wash your hair so early in the morning!” he said in his best composed tone, brushing away the embarrassment.
“And how many times have I told you that I am used to washing my hair in the morning,” she retorted.
And how do I tell you that I am not used to this?
Chappals are welcome (throw it in pairs tho🤣)
comment:
p_commentcount