| Think Again |
"Abir I -"
"Stay quiet, angry chorni." He darted a quick glance, rather a glare at her, enough for her to lower her gaze, witnessing the anger rising within him. "How more careless can you really be, hmm? Like just tell me how more?" And even though he wasn't yelling, but his vexed tone gave away the extent to which he was mad at her.
"Abir, I am fi-"
"I said, stay quiet, no?" He shot her another stern glare, before he put his focus back in his work. His eyes almost instantly softened, on feeling a muscle pull in her hand that he was holding after he poured some cold water on her bleeding wrist. He firmed his delicate hold a little, not letting her take her hand back. One glimpse at, her shutting her eyes out of the pain, and his anger was forgotten.
"Aisa bhi kya tha bag me jise tum unhe le jane nahi de sakti thi?" He sighed, but at the same time was willing to know what it was that she couldn't lose to those thieves who had snatched her bag.
They had daggers.
They had knives.
One of those even had a gun.
No. He didn't want to dare imagine what would have happened had he not reached there in the nick of the time but by then one of them had already moved the knife across her wrist.
She opened her eyes, only to find him sick worried for her small injury. It was just a small cut. Perhaps, a little deeper but she was alright and she would have assured him the same long back had he allowed her to speak.
"Actually -" She had just opened her mouth but she heard him cutting her off again and all she could do was, roll her eyes in annoyance.
"You know what, actually, let it be. Was more important than your life? Wo kuch kar dete tumhe to? Agreed that I call you violent, but they were professionally violent. How could you just run after them despite knowing that they could hurt you severely?" He looked up at her, once he finished cleaning her wound with the antiseptic liquid.
He couldn't stand the silence that she chose for the next couple of moments and found himself poking her to get some words from her side. "Ab kya hua?"
She held his gaze for a while. "Tum politician ho? DJ me khadi crowd ho? Khadoos wale boss ho? Meri baat kyu nahi sun rahe ho?"
He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. Tell me," he murmured, draping a clean bandage around her wrist.
"First thing, Abir - I am perfectly alright. -"
"Yeah right."
"Mujhe bolne doge?" Didn't he just ask to speak? But he still had to cut her off. This guy was really frustrating at times but she would not be able to deny that she knew it was his concern that was speaking and it always warmed her heart. He had been there for her, every time she needed someone and he had stayed without even being asked.
He hummed, gesturing her to continue, with a slow blink, assuring her that he would not interrupt.
She got her uninjured hand over his arm. "Trust me, Abir. I am fine. This is just a small cut that will heal in no time. I could not let them take the bag." Shoving her hand in her bag that was lying beside her on the bench that were seated on, she pulled out a pen box and held it in front of him.
His gaze stuck on it for several moments. No. No. No. He didn't want to let it sink in his system that it was that box she risked her life for. Ah Abir! His emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
"Have you lost your mind, Mishti? For this? Really?" He almost screamed, getting on his feet.
She decided to ignore the pain that had started shooting up in her wrist as she stood up after him. "Abir, this is important for you, no?"
He couldn't trust his ears. Did she really say that? "Are you hearing yourself, Mishti? You seriously thought that this is important than your life to me?"
"Tumne kitni excitement se dikhaya tha. Tumhara pehla gift... tumhari painting wali ke liye..." Her voice trailed with her attempt of trying to conceal the foreign jealousy and displeasure with his strong feelings and sweet mentions of his painting wali. "Subah galti se mere paas reh gaya tha."
He hadn't regretted anything as much as he did, presenting that gift in front of her, sharing with her that he had brought that pen box for his painting wali since she was fond of writing and purposely left it with his painting wali but the naive painting wali had not a slightest of clue that she was the mysterious painting wali.
"Mishti," he murmured, rubbing his forehead vigorously. Why did he even pull up that stunt with her? Perhaps, to heighten her uneasiness and jealousy, that he thought would bring her one step closer to the realization of her feelings for him but it had backfired in the worst way possible.
What would have he done had anything happened to her? Foolish girl didn't care about anything happening to her but rather was worried for that gift. Think again, Abir. He had made his adoration for his painting wali evident in front of her time and again. Knowing it, just knowing it, she put him over her life. She chose to fight with those goons or whatever they were for she could not let them take his gift... his gift that wasn't even for herself but for some anonymous woman she did not even know. All she knew was that he liked her, perhaps loved her and yet, yet she didn't care getting injured if it was about him. Was that the extent he had started mattering to her? Think again, Abir. If she was choosing you over her, then was she being foolish?
Overwhelmed by everything that he had come to conclude, he lowered his gaze to conceal his glistening eyes.
"When are you planning to give this to her?" She bit her lower lip, silently cursing herself. She wasn't supposed to ask it, was she? "Um just curious." She quickly made an attempt to cover it up but little did she know that there was no point in hiding it from him for the man knew and understood it, way more than she did.
A soft and warm smile graced his face as he slowly lifted his eyes at her. "Very soon, Mishti. Very soon."
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