Gauhar's POV
"Oof!" Muqeet huffed out, as he fell down with a thud on the practice mat we had set up in my room. It was raining torrentially outside, completely out of the norm for the usually pleasant weather of Kullu. Perhaps the awful weather of London had followed us all the way here as well. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and I grinned at his scowling face.
A purple bruise was quickly forming on his shoulder where I'd hit him, his dark blue tank top was drenched in sweat. The same way I was sure my grey T shirt was as well. Knowing that I'd have to handle him freaking out if he finds out about the damage I'd inflicted on him, I kept silent. Vowing to myself that once we'd caught our breaths I would give him an ice pack and a massage.
The sound of my phone ringing suddenly filled up the silence of the room as I offered him my hand and pulled him up. "Aren't you going to answer it?" he asked, as he rewrapped the bandages around his hand.
