Bound To YOU

Chapter 12: Taking Care

I could sense that Omar was angry. His eyes were looking at my feet. He looked at me and said, "Why is there a bandage here?"

I didn't say anything.

"Yumna," he said in a warning tone.

"Mind your own business," I sighed.

Just, why couldn't he do that? Why couldn't he mind his own business and stop being so nosy?

His fingers touched my wounded foot that was wrapped in a bandage. "I am going to unwrap it," he said. He didn't ask. He said what he meant. He didn't wait for my reply because he took his fingers and began to open the bandage.

I felt a little tingle feeling as his fingers brushed on my feet. I saw him unwrapping the bandage. His tone was rude and arrogant, but the way he was unwrapping the bandage . . . trying his hard not to hurt my foot . . . He was very tender.

Unwrapping the bandage completely, he saw my foot that was red from the hot tea. There were glass cuts on the bottom of my feet. I felt his eyes on my foot, looking at it with anger.

"Who did this to you?" He asked. He was definitely angry. I could sense it in his voice.

I shook my head.

What did he want me to tell him?

That I was abused by my uncle? So, he could report to the police?

And then what?

We had no evidence. We could complain to the police but the police couldn't arrest my uncle without any evidence.

"Yumna," he looked at me. "Who did this to you?"

His eyes were filled with so much anger. I could sense he was trying not to burst into anger. He was good at keeping his cold face, but behind his cold face, I could see his worried and angry face.

I didn't understand him. One moment, he was being a jerk and another moment, he was acting as if he cared about me.

I had to say, Omar was a man of complexity.

Omar gently lifts my feet to examine it. "This," he looked at the redness. "Did you stepped on something hot?"

I shook my head. I wasn't in the mood of answering him.

He looked at the deep cuts. "This . . . Did you . . . It has to be glass pieces that made these wounds."

I wanted to slap myself. I didn't utter a single word and he literally figured out the whole thing.

He looked at me. "You stepped in hot coffee or tea that was spilled on the floor along with glasses, didn't you?"

I was shocked.

Wow there! He should become an investigator.

Just by looking at my cuts, he assumed it?

"Yumna," this time, his voice was much softer. "Did . . ." He shook his head. "Did . . . Somebody hurt you?"

I shook my head. As much as I hated Omar, I didn't want him to know about my problems.

"No, I stepped in hot tea that was spilled on the floor along with glasses by mistake," I lied.

Omar raised his eyebrow.

"I am clumsy, so . . ."

He shook his head. He wasn't buying the act. He sighed and held my foot. "You twisted this ankle?"

I nodded.

"Alright, I am going to do something," he said holding my foot on his hands. "It's going to hurt a little but it would be alright."

I looked at him confusingly.

What did he mean?

I didn't understand what he said until I felt a sharp pain on my foot. "Ouch!" I winched.

Omar quickly stopped what he was doing and looked at me.

"What -"

"I told you this is going to hurt, silly," he said. "Just bear this for a while. After that, your ankle will be okay."

What was he planning on doing, anyway?

But he looked so confident. His eyes looked a bit worried but confident. It made me felt like he knew what he was doing. I gave him a nod as he continued.

I bit my lip as he pressed his hand on my foot firmly and then began to twist it back. The pain was unbearable. I could feel tear sliding down my eyes. I wanted to cry out loudly, but I couldn't. I knew it was school and I didn't want to capture any attention. I didn't want anybody to see us alone here like this.

"Just a bit," he whispered as he twisted my foot.

"Ouch," I whispered, letting the tears slide down my eyes. It hurt so much. The sharp pain shot through my leg as I sobbed.

Suddenly, I felt all the pain draining away from my foot. My foot seemed like it was well again.

"Try moving it," Omar whispered.

I nodded as I moved my foot. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt anymore. I moved my foot and stretched it, but it didn't hurt.

I smiled. Even though I was crying out of pain a while ago, I couldn't help but smile.

My foot was okay. No more twisted ankle.

'Alhamdulillah! Thank you, Allah. My foot is okay now,' I prayed in mind.

Omar got off the floor and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a handkerchief.

"Here," he said as he handed it to me. "Whip those tears before somebody comes here and thinks that I abused you or something."

I nodded and took the handkerchief from his hand. I whipped my tears and noticed him making his way towards the exit of the hallway.

I looked at my foot again and then at Omar. Sure we were enemies but I needed to thank him.

"Um . . . Hey Mr. Bad boy!" I called out still sitting on the stairs.

Omar didn't turn around. He stopped walking.

"Um . . . Thank you," I said, softly.

Omar didn't turn away still but he moved his head at a side when I saw his face. He didn't look angry or cold, rather, he looked pleased.

"Well then," he waved his hand. "Bye, Ms. Nerdypoo!"

As much I was wanted to call him names now, I liked the way he called me. It wasn't filled with anger or hatred or coldness. It was filled with a bit of teasing and warmth. I didn't say anything and watched him leave the hallway.

I smiled as I looked at my foot again. I moved it again and noticed how it was painless.

Well, so I guess there was still something that Mr. Bad boy was good at.