53

— H O O R —

. . .

“I am. Why do you ask though?” He asks me, gazing into my eyes so softly that for a moment that passes between us, I am lost in those deep blue chasms.

I remain silent, looking at his face. His lips curl softly into a small smile as he leans closer, pushing his face into the crook of my neck.

I squint my eyes, mumbling, “Because your behavior is different today.”

“I know,” he says, chuckling. He raises his face again and adds, “Anyway, leave that.”

He moves back and I miss the warmth he gives me. I miss his proximity. It feels like I am made for it — to be close to him. He stands beside me.

“I have planned something for this evening,” he begins, leaning against the glass door.

“And what’s that?”

“Well, you'll get to know soon,” he shrugs, “Just be ready.”

I narrow my eyes, wondering about his ‘plan’, but then, I do not wish to ask him further. I am not sure when his mood triggers and he starts scolding me again.

Not like I am scared of him. I just do not want m