"Go open the door." ... I mumbled in my sleep. He just groaned and shifted his position and gave me a guffy smile.
Sunday was his day of breakfast. But my man was lazy to even stir from his sleep. Thanks to his late night games.
The knocking on the door was getting louder. Why would someone have to be here on a Sunday? Thinking this she got out of bed went straight to the kitchen somehow forgetting about the peace hacker at her doorstep.
She made herself a cup of coffee and walked into the hall. There his dinner was left untouched.
"This guy!”... She mumbled with a smile.
After her me-time with her coffee she decided to make breakfast. His favorite. The typical south Indian breakfast. He can't resist waking when the house fills with the smell of spices, she thought with a grin.
The calling bell was ringing again. This time she opened to see her mom and some of her neighbours pondering on her doorstep.
Her mom hugged her with relief
"Zoya!! I have been calling you for yesterday. Why you didn't pick my calls? And I'm standing here for hours. What were you doing?"
"Ever since her husband died three days before she haven't come out of the house." Her neighbors murmured to each other.
"What nonsense? My husband died? Who told you such insanity? He's inside sleeping and I was preparing his favorite breakfast."
She went inside and even by dinner time, the breakfast and lunch was left untouched and the house was filled with a deadly silence.
Linking this to BAR-A-THON by Blog-A-Rhythm Day 1 Prompt – Stranger than Fiction