56

— H O O R —

. . .

“Right. Why don’t you wear it often?” He says softly, smiling at me but maybe he is not aware of it.

And what did he even say?

I keep staring at him, biting my bottom lip. Well, I can’t wear a saree all the time because it is not comfortable on all occasions. And I think Zahir, too, can see it.

But men will be men.

How would he realize that I am not fond of draping a saree every time?

“It’s because saree is not comfortable every time, Zahir.” I shrug and he frowns. But I do not wait for any answer. I turn around and leave.

Getting ready, I come out and find Zahir still lying over the bed, draped in the quilt, and sleeping on his stomach.

What? Does he really not wish to get up today?

I check the time. It is already quarter to eleven in the morning. I go to him and sit next to him. My eyes fall on his half-revealed face and the thought of innocence on his face comes to my mind.

My eyes remain fixed on him and my breathing starts slowing down. Soft and slow. Z