Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Bored of watching television, tired of reading books of every trope, weary of everything-even sleeping feels like a chore now. I never thought I would utter these words.
It's been two days since I arrived at his house. He doesn't allow me to leave. I asked the security and the servants if I could go out, but they firmly said no.
Yet, they speak to me with utmost respect, as if they're afraid of me. I don't understand why.
He stocked my closet with clothes of my choice-or rather, his choice, since he didn't ask me before doing so.
They're exactly like what I usually wear, except for a few dresses. I haven't tried them on, but they don't seem to be my style.
He even gave me his number the night we had dinner together. But I lack the courage to call him. This house has everything a person needs, but it lacks the person I need.
Why God why, why does he have to be so engrossed in work all the time?
Enough. I'm going to call him now, even though I'm not sure if he'll pick up from a new number. But I'm going to call. My heart races with each ring.
"Hey, sweetheart," he answers before I can even say hello, his deep voice causing me to catch my breath.
"Hi," I respond, my voice barely audible.
"So, you finally gathered the courage to call. Is there a problem?" he asks.
"No. When are you coming here?" I ask.
"Why?" he counters.
"I'm bored. I want to go out, or at least let me go to work. I can't stay inside the house all day," I pleaded.
"How many times do I have to tell you it's not safe for you to step out?" he says gently.
I shut my mouth in anger, hearing his slow chuckle on the phone before he speaks again.
"Do you have a saree with you?"
"Why?" I ask curiously.
"Just answer," he insists.
"Yes, I do. You were the one who got them for me," I replied.
"Then be ready by 8 p.m.," he instructs, cutting the call before I can ask for an explanation.
