"Is anyone else irked by this annoying economic trend observed in the cafeteria premises? 

The forced Bartery. 

If you buy anything that costs in multiples of 5, (e.g. a Lays Wavy costing Rs. 25) the cafeteria dude takes your Rs.50 note, hands back two twenties, and a five rupee packet of Chilli Milli/Softmints/ABC Jelly etc.) 

Excuse me, while I learn how to re-invent fire, and live in caves...I didn't realize we're still in the business of bartering for purchased goods.

(Even though we DO have five Rupee coins issued by the State Bank currently under circulation. JBTW)

What if I don't want a bleeping ABC jelly? What if I'm allergic to Softmints?

You don't give a shit about my feelings, do you? heartless cafeteria dude. 

Wait 'til my father hears about this. Filthy little Mudblood....-Nitty Gritty (Issue No: 1890, April 2017)

~18 months later~

"I can't open the email." Azaan mumbled through his fingers. His phone was clutched in his hands, sandwiched between the thumbs, like a weird prayer. 

"Then don't. When you don't respond to the Caltech people, they'll just pick someone more talented than you for the internship. And you will get that dream job you always wanted...behind the fryer at McDonald's." I suggested dryly. 

"How do you know my dream job was at McD's?" He muttered. "Imagine all those french fries, under my supreme power...I think all that gold, and riches will go to my head." 

"Open it dude. What's the worse that can happen? You'll be rejected again? so what? It'll mean that you get to stay around for the next two years. We can go traveling Balochistan again, after graduation. That'd be fun." Asad suggested. 

"I still can't open it." Azaan groaned. "You guys don't realize it. My life can change if I open this email. I think I want it to stay exactly like it is. For a few more days."

"Oh for Flub's sake. I'll open it." Faris snapped, reaching for Azaan's phone. Azaan swatted him away.

Shay visibly melted at Faris' censorship efforts. 

So much has changed in the past year and a half. 

Faris, Asadomer, and Azaan are graduating from IBSA in a month. 

Shay, Daniyal, Syra and I will be graduating next year from this place. 

It feels surreal to imagine real life after college. I'm unsure about it. Not meeting up with these weirdos everyday is going to depress me a lot. I am not even thinking about the possibility of Azaan winning the Caltech internship this year. Because that would mean not seeing him for quite a long while.

I'm so torn right now. I want him to achieve his dreams. I want him to get the fruit of his labor. But I also don't want him to go away. 

Selfish? Undoubtedly. 

Guilt? None. 

It's taken me a whole lot of courage, and introspection to come to terms with my feelings for my best friend. I'm not going to feel ashamed by something I have absolutely no control over. 

The heart wants what it wants. 

If I had any ideas about this feeling being a mere, "crush" then those ideas have long since disappeared. I love him like a friend, and more. It's as simple, and as complicated as that. 

If I look back down the road, these three years have changed me. I'm stronger now. I'm also more worldly, in a way that I never imagined I would be. I have succeeded in sacking a perverted professor. I have gotten fake-married. I have gotten sick by eating road-side Gol-Gappas, without regret. I have become Laila and found love. I have made market visits to the most lowly of slum areas. I have tried selling Knee-socks to retired Navy personnel for an entrepreneurship course. I have been mugged twice, on the weekly rickshaw rides Shay and I take for the sake of a famous Bun Kebab we're both addicted to. I have struggled with balancing my grades and my social outreach program for Underprivileged school kids. I have cried with happiness, when I scraped through a particularly gruesome Financial Modeling course (C-minus for the win!). I have had to bullshit in front of an audience of 50 people, for twenty minutes, on the SWOT analysis for the Pakistani Fertilizer Industry, and I have done it with more confidence than I could have ever imagined.  

Surviving college isn't easy. But through the good, bad, and ugly, my friends have been always there. They're like an unpaid, under-appreciated Therapist. They listen to you rant, cry, gush, fume over just about anything, without judging (In Faris's case, it's usually because he is actually not listening), and without telling you that you need some happy pills. 

But It's all going to change now. Once we part ways. All destined for separate careers, lives, families...

It's going to be even stranger than it already is. 

Faris and Pareeshae are the cutest Non-couple I have ever witnessed. After the dramatic stunt that Faris pulled after our Annual Play, we all expected them to 'get together', like couples usually do. Surprisingly, that never happened. Faris is as aloof towards Shay now, as he was three years ago. He nearly punched Asad in the face once, when the latter tried joking about their relationship. 

As far as the world is concerned, Faris and Shay are two members of a mutual peer-group....

...Who just happen to be in love with each other.

"He says that until he gets my parents to agree to his proposal in a couple of years; we're not going to act like we're together. Apparently, after the whole Syra-Daniyal fiasco, he has an aversion to the word 'Dating'. He says that I'm not his girlfriend, or his intended. I'm just...His. And until he can put it on paper, he isn't going to 'Jinx' it." Shay sighed dreamily. "He is so cute when he is all superstitious like that. Even cuter than when he's all sweet in his texts."

I couldn't reconcile the words "Cute" and "Sweet" with the image of Faris, but I obediently nodded along. 

Faris barely even looks at her when they're together. But in LITERALLY every word he says, it is very obvious that he cares deeply for her. 

He has stopped swearing. (Almost).

It totally screwed with everyone's head, when foul-mouthed Faris started censoring his words. He makes up the most ridiculous sounding replacements for his favorite curses, and he likes to boast about his "Dry-Spells". 

"It's been a whole Motherchucking month, since my last F-Bomb!" he'd casually, arrogantly announce. We all offer shocked congratulations, while Pareeshae just beams at him proudly. 

"I told him that if he swears more than five times a day, then he doesn't get to text or call me that night." Shay confessed later. "He said that he'd try. Then he didn't speak to me for ten days. I was so scared, that he is going to just end things because I was being too pushy, and demanding. But I also know that I can't take him to my parents with the kind of verbal diarrhea that he spews you know? I mean, my parents are so mild-mannered, that they don't even say 'Pagal' , or 'Gadha' as an insult. Imagine their horror if I tell them that I have found my soulmate. Who just happens to be a potty-mouth...."

It's actually admirable that Shay didn't go running back to him during those ten days. When he eventually called her back, he was very proud of himself. It took him a few days to break his habit. Even now, he often relapses. Like a drug addict falling off the cold-turkey wagon. But the good thing about Faris, is that he doesn't give up. Recently, he has gotten creative with his urge to curse, and Shay couldn't be prouder. 

"I have been trying to coach him. Kind of preparing him for when he meets my parents this summer. I told him to observe Azaan in action! I mean that guy is such a smooth-talker with adults, he should give lessons to aspiring fiances! Faris is so taciturn that he doesn't let people get a piece of him, in the cerebral, figurative sense." Shay informed me worriedly, during one of our secret Bun-Kebab expeditions. 

I bit into my delicious, spicy meal, trying not to moan audibly. "Mmhmm. What did he say?"

"He said that he didn't need any lessons. And that he'd try to impress my family by his own skills, and intelligence." 

I shrugged. "Fair point." 

"My Dad has a doctorate in nuclear physics, Layla. And my mother reads Chaucer for fun." Shay replied glumly. 

I choked on my Bun. This was news to me. Not that Shay isn't bright...but damn! this girl has often called me up randomly and asked me to "Talk about Makeup" with her. 

"Forget Azaan. Faris needs Oprah for this one...." I'd snickered. 

I have faith that Faris can make this work. He is quiet. But he knows his stuff. He may seem eccentric, but he has very firm, rational approach to a lot of things, which is something that Pareeshae usually lacks. For example, Faris wants to delay marriage until he is settled in a proper job, and has cleared most of his Chartered Accountancy exams. Shay isn't too happy about it, because she wants to "Live", and she wants to "Live NOW!". Whatever that means. 

I try not to be, but I can't help being a little jealous of both of them. Even with their own quirks and flaws, they're both on the way to accepting, and improving each other. They share a comfort. This deep settled ease of knowing that someone out there is imperfectly, perfect for you. When he thinks nobody's watching, I've seen the way Faris looks at her, and the way she looks right back. Like they share this big, important secret. This secret code, that only they are privy to.

My secrets are still buried in my heart. 

Because I'm waiting for a sign, maybe. I don't know. 

I have no idea what I'm most afraid of. His rejection, or his acceptance. 

Both ideas terrify me.

It's like his email thing. If I open the box...anything can happen. Nothing will be the same for us. Everything will change, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it. Whatever IT may be. 

He is my best friend. My confidante. My go-to person. My blind-trust person. My Call-If-You-accidentally-killed-someone-and-need-help-burying-evidence Person. 

The only problem is that he makes my knees weak whenever he grows his scruff out. He makes my mouth go dry when he rocks a crisp Kurta shalwar on fridays. He makes my insides go mush whenever he brings Kitty Treats for my ungrateful Cat, or offers to do Pro-Bono photo-shoots for my sister's projects. He makes me breathless when he tries to explain how software coding works, and I can't help noticing that his eyes light up whenever he talks about nerdy things, like 'Python' and 'Binaries' and 'Syntax'.  

In conclusion, I turn into every romance novel/chick flick cliche you ever came across. 

Judith McNaught. Eat your heart out.

I have no idea how to reconcile our friendship into something more than that, especially at a time when neither of us are ready for a long-term commitment. I know that he is obsessed with developing his own software company, and becoming self-sufficient as soon as possible. His ambitions and his career may not have space for me, and that scares me. I don't want to be someone who restricts him in any way. But it haunts me. How can I be in a dignified relationship with someone as goal oriented, and ambitious, as Azaan? When I'm not sure that I have any plans for my life, and for my career yet. To quote Phoebe from F.R.I.E.N.D.S; "I don't even have a Pluh."

My only solace is that most people in colleges are going through the same dilemma. This age of our life is all about falling, getting kicked in the rear, getting punched in the face, getting lost in jungles... and then, ultimately, finding ourselves. 

I want to find myself. Soon.

........

Two interesting, romantic (or not so romantic) developments have happened during this time. 

One of them was Syra's engagement.

To someone who's definitely not Daniyal. 

This shocker was one of the most painful things I've ever witnessed, firsthand. 

Almost a year ago, she announced her relationship very casually, during a group hangout at my place. She did it in such a nonchalant manner, that none of us actually believed her, for the first few minutes. She deliberately avoided looking at Daniyal's shell-shocked face during this bombshell. 

"He is a family friend; a very well established Investment banker. Very handsome, and polite, and educated, and of course...Shia. Our families have been pushing us together for a while now, so I decided to give him a chance." She later whispered brokenly to me and Pareeshae. It was obvious that Syra wasn't exactly ecstatic about it.

Shay was more vocal about her disappointment than me, of course.

"How could you do this, Shay? WHY?" She wailed, "I know you and Daniyal had your differences, but he loves you to pieces! and don't you dare deny it, because I know that you feel the same way! How can you throw away years worth of happy memories like this?" 

Syra's lips had wobbled before she tightened them. As if hardening herself to the pain. 

"Just because you've found your person, and can eventually be with them without hurting your family; it doesn't mean that we can all do the same," She pointed out bitingly, "Daniyal and I never had a future together. We have irreconcilable differences, Pareeshae-the spiritual kind. The kind you're born with. I have no idea, why we ever got together in the first place. It was a mistake..."

"This isn't something you're born with Syra. It's something you give in to." I timidly added. "Allah didn't make us Shia, or Sunni. He made us humans. He made us believers. Our differences don't have to be as exaggerated as we let them be...just my two cents, of course."

"It doesn't work like that you guys. This isn't a movie, or a book. This is real life. When two people marry, and start a family, they're impacting more than just themselves. We're not living in a bubble. This is deeper than just two people, it is two different cultures, histories, philosophies who can't accept each other on the most fundamental of intellectual levels. I was so blindly, irrationally in love, that I never considered the consequences of what we were doing. Daniyal refuses to think logically, about it, so I have to do it," She shook her head sadly.

"It is our future together that I have to think of. Suppose, in a few year's time, we did somehow get married without offending either of our families. What now? What about our kids? No matter how much I love Dani, I would never want my child to practice Sunni-ism. I would want to raise him or her, on the beliefs that I was raised on. Daniyal would want to do the same, wouldn't he? How would we compromise on that? Why should we compromise on that? That is one of the main reason, why we broke up. I wanted to start thinking about our lives together, and Daniyal just wasn't ready to do that. He wanted us to stay in this immature bubble of a relationship, forever...Well, tough luck. Because, real life doesn't work like that"

"Why not let the kids decide? Whatever they find solace in, can be their own beliefs. Why not have some faith?" I suggested. This is something Azaan and I have discussed in the past, when Syra and Dani first broke up.

'Why don't they just have kids in even numbers? One could be Sunni, and the other could be Shia, and so on and so forth?...' had been Azaan's cheerful suggestion. 

I'm sure Syra would bash his brains out for this irreverence if she knew.

"Let's just talk about something else." Syra firmly steered the conversation away from this topic. 

But not every conversation is easily avoidable like that. 

Daniyal and Syra had been ignoring, and avoiding each other for months by then, but this truce came to a terrible end one day. Both of them had one last, epic, gut-wrenchingly painful, public fight before they ultimately gave up on each other. It was so spontaneous that none of us had any warning, before it got out of control.

One moment, they were both fine; typically, pretending to Ignore each other, when Syra started showing us the photos from her informal engagement ceremony. Then in the next breath, Daniyal made a derisively bitter comment along the lines of, "I hope this one is more future-perfect...".  

We were all trying to gloss over this, when Dani decided to yell it ALL out of his system. "Why wasn't I enough for you Syra?" "Does he even know that you were with me for five fucking years?" "Why did you not try hard enough?" "How can you start another relationship so soon?"

And Syra broke down. She started weeping, and blaming him for their breakup. I felt my heart squeeze, when she said; "I want to move on, Dani. I want to forget you, and move on. We were a mistake, and I don't ever want to wake up everyday, and regret what we have, because I never want to have regret with you. As far as I know, I'm doing us both a favor. You'll see. One day you'll thank me! You will! You'll thank me, dammit!" 

Like the guy that he is, Daniyal retaliated by accusing her of playing with his feelings, and being a heartless bitch among other complimentary things. 

It got so bad, that Daniyal almost beat up his own brother, when Faris tried to drag him away from the scene they'd created. 

It was sad to see that they were giving up their friendship. There would be no more constant bickering. No more being together. No more. 

Just this sad memory. This one last fight. 

Only my faith in fate, and Allah's greater plans allows me to hold onto this hope; that In the end, it will all have been for the best. 

Even though it is really hard to think that way when you're the one enduring such a situation. Which brings us to the second unfortunate breakup tale. My sister's story. 

I'm both proud, and sad to say that it happened because of me. 

Shay, Azaan and I were meeting with one of our mentors for the Social Outreach program, at a local coffeehouse. When I ran into future brother-in-law in that cosy little place, it didn't go as well as I had imagined. You see, everything was going well with Maria and Yasir at that time. They'd already had an intimate little engagement ceremony. My sister was besotted by him. She never took off the platinum ring he had sweetly slid on his finger, not too many months ago....

...yet he there he was, seated in one of those back-end alcove-tables, unabashedly kissing the neck of another woman.

This is the pre-requisite denial phase soliloquy that went on in my head during the first few minutes; 

'Maybe it isn't Yasir.' 

'Are you blind? It's totally him! That tow-headed freak! I could recognize that humongous head anywhere...'

'Maybe she's just a friend. Or a cousin. Or a sister.' 

'Sister's don't sit in their brother's laps in secluded cafes.'

'Maybe she's a co-worker, or something, and he was just helping her clean off some spilled food or something.'

'WITH HIS TONGUE?'

 I actually went cold with the anger, and betrayal when it finally sunk in. I wanted to destroy him in that moment. I wanted to obliterate his existence from my sister's past, present and future. Nobody gets to hurt Maria. My sweet, big-hearted, passionate Maria. Atleast...they don't get to live happily after doing it. It's a good thing that he didn't see me, or he would have run away. Luckily, he was too pre-occupied with his partner, to notice his fiancee's little sister, standing ten feet away, plotting his public castration. 

"Hayat. you want to order something from the menu? because Shay thinks we shoul--WOAH. Are you planning on killing somebody?" Azaan snickered when he saw my face. 

His face turned an interesting shade of purple when I pointed out Yasir. And introduced him, in an undertone.

"What do I do?" I rubbed my face with anger, and confusion. "I have already taken a photo of them, in case Maria doesn't believe me.But I'm not sure I want to confront him here. I'm not sure I can talk to him civilly, without scooping his eyes out with a dull spoon."

"What's his name again?" Azaan asked silkily, cracking his knuckles in that way-the one that usually makes me want to roll my eyes at him. 

"Yasir." 

"Where does he work?" 

"He just landed a two-year contract with one of Mama's friends, the owner of Sapphire." I gritted my teeth at the thought. Bastard. He used us! my sister, my mother. He used our name to get to where he is now. I always thought that such scheming, manipulative, greedy men were a fictional part of soap-operas and Khawateen Digests (Women Magazine Stories). 

It so happens, that these characters are real. And they walk among us. Preying on the gullible. Feeding on the weak. Because, no matter how much of an optimist you are, you have to admit, that at the very core of our humanity, there exists a black-hole of selfishness. In some people, that black-hole grows, and grows, until it consumes them. And then it starts consuming others. 

Yasir is one big black-hole. Disguised as an asshole. 

"You don't particularly like him do you?" Azaan asked conversationally, before loosening the skinny tie he was wearing with his formal dress shirt. I shook my head with narrowed eyes when he unbuttoned the cuffs, and leisurely folded his sleeves back. 

"Are you actually going to punch him the nut-sack?" Shay asked excitedly, fumbling with her phone-camera, "Because I think my Instagram would go nuts over this!"

"Nope. No violence. At least not until he makes the first move, of course." Azaan rubbed his hands mischievously before heading over to Yasir's table. What he did next, was both insane, and brave.

"There you are! Yasir! You've been a bad boy today, haven't you? sneaking off without telling the warden, like that! Do you know how upset your mother becomes when she hears about your escapades?"  Azaan shook his head exasperatedly, before leaning in to grab Yasir's arm.

"Excuse me! What the fuck do you think you're doing to my boyfriend?" The girl squawked shrilly back. Yasir just kept sputtering with the unexpectedness of it.

"He is a runaway from our institution for the weak-minded, Madam." Azaan spoke gravely to the angry girl. "He often runs away for a few days, pretending to be fine without his medication. But if he doesn't take the drugs in the next few hours, you'll find out exactly what you're dealing with. A raving lunatic, I'm afraid. Most crazy people aren't a threat, of course...but our Yasir is special....He bites. Literally." 

The girl's eyes nearly fell out of her sockets, while Yasir, just kept saying; "What the fuck, man?"

"How can you say all of that? Why should I believe you? Yasir is a really talented designer! He even got me this kurti for my birthday..."

"Aww, Miss. Is that the story he got you with? Did he also tell you that he got his degree from NCA, and that he is working with Sapphire right now?" 

The girl's skepticism vanished as she stared warily at Yasir. "Y-yes..." 

"Baby, don't listen to this dude! He is completely out of line, with these lies! I've never taken any medication in my life. I have no idea how he knows me, but I haven't seen him before in my life, and I'm completely sane! By Allah!...." I wanted to laugh at his pathetic pleading. People like Yasir should be ashamed to even utter His name. 

Azaan wasn't done laying it thick.

"Tsk Tsk. Such an adorably spirited man, our Yasir...We always enact role-plays with our patients, to get them acclimatized with the regular world. Yasir always pretends to be a fashion designer. I guess this time, he took the fantasy too far. Whenever we have to remind him of the truth, he just tries to deny it.."

"THIS IS ONE BIG LIE, SARA!"

"...Precisely, like THAT. Denial, insanity and rage.These are all symptoms you know..." He leans forward to murmur conspiratorially in the girl's ear, "...Of AIDS."

"AIDS!!?? YOU HAVE AIDS TOO?" She wailed, pushing Yasir's protests away from her. 

"HE IS FUCKING LYING, SARA! I SWEAR!" Yasir's loud protests was attracting the attention of the customers and staff of the coffeehouse.

"I highly suggest you get yourself tested for HIV, if you've been in a physical relationship with our darling Yasir. If you saw the Public Service Ads, during the '90's, then you should know that It spreads through genital contact, among other things..." Azaan cheerfully recommended. "I'll just go and call our Tranq Squad. I imagine you wouldn't like seeing him getting drugged and dragged away to the loony bin, so may I escort you to your car?" 

I shook my head in disbelief at this.

Stay here. Azaan subtly gestured at Shay and me.

The poor girl was so dazed that she weakly allowed Azaan to steer her away to her car, as Yasir fumed and raved in the background. Through the window, I saw her drive away. Then I saw Yasir land an enraged punch to Azaan's stomach. 

I'm not sorry to say that I went a little crazy. 

I grabbed one of those hot-sauce condiment bottles that cafes put out in the center of each table. I ignored Shay's warnings, as I marched purposely out of the cafe, straight up to Yasir, who was still yelling at Azaan, insulting him, and pushing him around. To my annoyance, Azaan wasn't even fighting back. He was too busy laughing his ass off, enjoying his latest stunt, I imagine. 

"Yasir." I called out calmly, unscrewing the thin red bottle. My sister's soon-to-be-ex-fiance nearly stumbled when he turned and saw my impassive face behind him. 

"L-L-Lay--" He stuttered, his eyes widening with shock. 

"Layla. My name is Layla. You..you...HERNIATED INTESTINE!" I yelled the last two words, unable to hold back any longer. Azaan actually fell over at that, wheezing with laughter. After I hug him...I'm going to kill him when this is over...

"This is for my sister, you...you...Molester of Llamas!" I yelled before dumping the contents of my condiment bottle on his face and neck. I took perverse pleasure in his howl of pain. Hot sauce burns like Hades on bare skin.

Good.

"You come near my family again, and I will make sure that you're breathing through a nose-tube for the rest of your life." I threatened to his prone, moaning figure before dragging an awestruck Azaan away from the scene of the crime. 

"Remind me, to never cross you two." Shay shuddered later. "I can't believe you called him a Molester of Llamas. Like, Bruh..."

"And a Herniated Intestine. I've said it before, and I'll do it again; I'm so proud of you, Hayat." Azaan winced, nursing his bruised temple. His tie was wrapped around his head like a bandage. His formal white shirt was crinkled beyond repair, and his dark jeans were dusty. We had bailed on the fancy mentor meeting, choosing to recoup at a dilapidated Dhaaba (Traditional low-end eateries) "You were like The Black Widow out there...or Harley Quinn...Both are hot in their own way, so it's a compliment anyways."

"Thanks." I shrugged. Maybe one day I'll look back at today, and laugh. But that day wasn't today. This didn't please me, or amuse me, or make me proud in the slightest. Knowing that later tonight, I'd have to go home, and tell my sister that her fiance was a lowly dirtbag parasite. A cheating, selfish coward who never had the heart to love her as she deserved. 

'It's all for the best, Laylee.' She consoled me that night, again and again. Through her own tears, she was busy wiping mine. Proving to me, that some people don't even have black-holes. 'It wasn't meant  to be, Laylee. So Allah made it easier for me. He saved me before I could make a bigger mistake. Like marrying the wrong man. That would have been worse, wouldn't it?'

It is all for the best in the end. 

We have to have Faith, don't we?

It's the only thing worth living for. Hope, and Faith. 

............

"Just say Bismillah (With Allah's Name)and open the email." I gently extract his phone from between his fingers. Even though I'm not feeling so gentle inside. 

I want to yell at the skies; Don't take him away from me! 

Instead, I smile reassuringly at the love of my life. And give him the encouragement he needs to look at his future. 

A future that might just be without me. 

A hush descends over the group as Azaan taps through his phone. His fingers tighten slightly over his phone as he reads the mail on the tiny screen. 

My heart is pounding loudly in my ears. A steady, staccato rhythm. Don't-Go-Don't-Go-Don't-Go.

"Well. Then. What's the verdict?" I rasped out. His face was so utterly blank, his eyes hooded by his thick lashes, were downcast, staring mesmerized at the phone-screen. 

"If I find out that one of you forged this email, like that fake Caltech phonecall...I will kill you." Azaan muttered, reminding us of the prank Asadomer played on him a week earlier. 

"You know we don't repeat pranks, dipshit. What's the news, anyways?" Asad rubbed his hands with gleeful anticipation. 

"This is the most horrifying moment of my life..." Azaan croaked, handing his phone over to Faris. 

A part of me was relieved at his rejection. The selfish black-hole part of me...

Then Faris took one look at the email, and snorted, "And people call me drama queen."

"...I won't be able to eat my Ma's biryani for the next two years. It just hit me." Azaan's admission was like a bomb going off. 

All of us started yelling at once. A flurry of 'Congratulations!' and 'I knew you'd make it!!'. 

I didn't even know I was crying, until I realized that I couldn't see his huge, dimpled grin, when he reached for me. 

"I'm s-s-so Haa-appy for y-you." I sobbed, blindly returning his hug, burying my face in his shirt. He really did deserve it. The success that he'd been working four years for. He was getting a one-in-a-million chance of going after his dreams. I should be 100% happy to see him leave. 

I should.

But I'm not. 

Not 100% anyways. 

"Yeah, I can see that you're really happy, Nightlife." He chuckled deeply, pulling away to offer me a napkin to blow my nose into. I had to smile back. Even though it was killing me inside. 

Everything happens for the best. 

For whom though?

Author's Note:

Woah. I keep trying to get my word count under control, but I just can't resist adding the details, as I have them mapped out in my head. :D Teehee. 

I hope you enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

New readers: WELCOME! <3 I'm so glad to have your support in this imperfect word journey. (Dramatic. Lol) 

Don't Forget to VOTE and COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT! 

I love hearing back from you guys. 

-E.