Bedtime stories

Every night, I'd read a book or magazine as part of my bedtime ritual. I usually last about 4-5 pages before my eyelids start drooping and slowly, I doze off to slumberland.

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, with my arm hanging over the edge of the bed, my hand still gripping the book. At times, the book would fall off my hand and land on the floor, waking me up momentarily. Or I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find the book jutting my body uncomfortably.

Last night, I did the usual nightly read and fell asleep with the book in my hand. Later, I felt a gentle tug on my book. It woke me up and immediately I pulled back the book.

"Don't... I still want to read, " I muttered.

He chuckled, "Go to sleep, darling..."

"No, I still w-a-n-t to reaad..." I grumbled sleepily.

I was still muttering and grumbling when he clambered onto bed. Next, he pulled me in his arms and told me a bedtime story, which I hadn't had in years.

"Once a upon a time, there was this hot chicka named CQ. She has the sweetest smile that could break a thousand hearts... dainty hand.... tiny feet... met at Bangsar... "

I don't know how the story ended as his voice softly lulled me back to sleep.