"Farewell parties are always emotional.

There are plenty of tears.

Plenty of "Can you believe it's been four years since we first met?" (Read: I can't wait to NOT see your ugly mug everyday.)

Plenty of "We HAVE to meet up every month, guys!" (Read: I want to make sure all of you are as miserable in your corporate slave lives as I am!)

Plenty of "Congratulations on your engagement!" (Read: I wish I had taken the chance to say hi to you three years ago in Marketing Class. You were supposed to be the mother of my future children. Now you're engaged to your Phuppo ka beta (Cousin) fml...)

Regrets. Memories. Goodbyes.

It's been a heck of a journey my little judgy readers.

Gentle Reader. As I graduate this year, with hopes of securing a job that pays me to be myself and explore my creative drive (LOL), it is with a heavy heart I announce that this issue of Nitty Gritty will be the last one under my penmanship. Perhaps one day, another undercover bitchy, sarcastic hater will emerge from the masses of IBSA, and continue this legacy of Derisive Hilarity.

Please don't keep in touch.

Good riddance.

-Faris Maniar. (Editor, Author, Creator, Founder, Mother, Father, Neighbor-in-Law, etc. of Nitty Gritty)

"Do you remember the time we got you those Goldfish, and you were so worried about them not getting sleep at night, that you took them out of the tank, and tried to tuck them in with you, in your own bed?" Aliya Auntie's face was shining with happy tears as she laughed at Azaan's mortified face.

"Ma. I'd rather NOT remember that..." Azaan mutters as the rest of us roar with laughter.

The atmosphere of the crowded hospital room resembles that of a festive party.

After sleeping for a solid 18 hours, Azaan woke up, with most of his memories restored.

The human body works in miraculous ways, it seems. Azaan 2.0 seems like the old Azaan. Just slightly stunned, and confused...which is pretty natural all things considered.

"I remember once I drew all over Aliya Mami's (Aunt) walls, and she tried to bribe all of us kids with candy..." Azaan's cousin Mina grins at him, "She said that the creator of that "Lovely Wall-Art" would get two candy bars, if he or she owns up. I wisely kept quiet, but you can guess who confessed to the crime, for some candy? You always was a greedy little twerp., Azaan. Served you right when Mami twisted your ear, made you clean up the mess and sent you to bed without dinner..."

I had to hold onto Shay for support, to control the giggles.

"I did eventually get the candy." Azaan growls ineffectively, trying to hide his reddening face.

Azaan's family is hilarious. His grandmother rules over them with an iron fist and a fire-breathing tongue, while his siblings and cousins never stop teasing one another over the silliest of things. I can't believe how close his extended family is, or how caring and supportive they are. They're so comfortable around one other, which is fascinating for me, because I barely know my own cousins my name.

His family is so close-knit, and real, that I am almost envious of his memory-loss.

Apparently, his cousin Mina and her husband decided to visit Pakistan earlier this year when they learned about Azaan's accident. I was pleasantly surprised (and mildly creeped out) when Mina greeted me by my name, and an over-enthusiastic hug. She towers over my five foot frame, and has a riot of curly hair, so you can imagine how overwhelmed I was by all that enthusiasm.

Either Azaan spoke about me to her, or she has some mad social media stalking skills.

I was also engulfed in another smother-hug from Adiba (Mina's sister-in-law). It was wonderful meeting her after that fateful Atif Aslam concert. She very unnecessarily confided in me that her husband refused to let her visit Azaan earlier because of the strain it might have caused to her "Delicate Condition".

She looked like an adorable basketball in her stretchy, loose orange Kamees (Traditional Shirt). Her face was shining with the healthy glow of pregnancy. It was so cute, the way Ali kept worriedly telling her; "Please sit down, and put your feet up!" (Not that she listened to him!) Apparently Adiba has had complications with conceiving before, and her husband is almost neurotically protective about her. Shay and I kept secretly "Aww-ing" over these two.

Mina's husband Shehzer made us a little tongue-tied. We had to keep reminding ourselves that the man was married with a kid, and that we're both in love with our own idiots, because he was (for the lack of a better word) Hot as Hell! It seems overkill that the man was a doctor too.

Swoon.

He was currently outside the hospital ward area, with his toddler, because babies weren't really allowed inside the wards. Shay kept fangirling over the way he handled baby Inayah.

"Men who're good with babies is just...I can't. Faris better not suck at it..." She sighed in my ear, while I silently agreed.

Due to Kulsoom Dadi's excellent intimidation tactics, the CMH security guards pretended to turn a blind eye when they saw so many people sneak into his ward after visiting hours. This moment right here was one of joy, and family, and friends, and everything good about life.

We all were having so much fun, that nobody wanted to leave Azaan alone after his recovery. After a detailed one-hour question/answer session with Dr. Major Sadiq, it was obvious that Azaan remembered a significant portion of his long term memory. However, some events, and some faces were still a blank. For example, he knew that his brother wasn't alive anymore, but he had no idea how Amaan died.

He could recall the contents of his Final-Year project, down to the last period, but he couldn't recall giving any of his final exams. In fact a few days before and after the football bump, seemed to be a mass of blank confusion for him.

Perhaps his mind was subconsciously suppressing unpleasant memories. Or perhaps his brain needed more time to heal completely.

This brings into question, something that is driving me crazy.

Does he remember our conversation from yesterday? When he told me that he was in love with me? When he made me fall for him all over again?

That teeny tiny, itty bitty, crab-nuggety little piece of neurons and brain cells better be inside his skull, or else I will...

I will....

What on earth will I do?

What can I do, anyways?

I have shrugged it off. For now, anyways. One battle at a time. His overall health and memory recovery is more important than my selfish desires.

I have to force myself to be patient, and understanding, in this scenario. This is something the doctors are stressing a lot on. Patience.

'Give him encouragement, and support.'

'Be happy around him.'

'Make him smile.'

We've been checking all the boxes.

"Please tell us more about baby Azzy. We LOVE his stories." Asadomer cheekily encouraged Mina, who seemed more than happy to regale us with a mix of hilarious, cringe-worthy tales of fascinating insights. It was amazing how well-grounded, and sensible Azaan eventually turned out to be (Can't believe I'm saying these words!), because his childhood seems to be peppered with emergency room visits, and mind-bogglingly evil antics that would have driven a typical mother mad.

My respect for Aliya Auntie has grown. The way she loyally defends her son, against the playful teasing, is pretty commendable (even though it is obvious that Azaan was a little demon as a kid). Like honest-to-God, Kevin from Home Alone/Horrid Henry/Dennis-The-Menace level of nightmarish.

The woman should be sainted, for not smothering him as a baby.

"Azzy, do you remember when you fed like 25 powdered Panadol pills to Abeer and Amna, when they were little? They had to be taken to the emergency room for a stomach wash! HAHA! You were playing Cops I think. Pretending to be a drug dealer or something." Mina's newest story makes all of us shriek with horror.

"Ahh! Yeah. I do remember the thrashing Baba gave me after that one." Azaan apologetically hugs his younger sisters who haven't vacated their spots, stuck to his side with their arms around him.

It was heartrending to see how they all look up to him for the littlest of things. After Amaan's passing, the girls have gotten very sensitive about their only remaining brother, which is understandable. He is like a second Dad for them now, and this fact makes me acutely aware about how little I know about these different sides of Azaan.

He isn't one-dimensional. I've said before that he is a paradox.

He isn't someone you can look at from a single perspective. There's so much to him, that it overwhelms me. I want to never stop learning about him. Sharing his depth. I want to know all of him.

"Hmmph. BOY. I have arranged for a dawat (dinner party) in honor of you getting your brains back. If you show up at My Castle with that depraved, sheitani (Satanic) ear stud in your ear, I will personally ask THAT unfortunate idiot to kick another ball to your skull." Kulsoom Dadi announces imperiously.

I've learned that "My Castle" is the name of her mansion. Talk about crazy...

"Are you talking about Asad?" Omer gleefully points at a mortified Asad.

"Yes. You. The one with the imbecilic haircut. Hmmph BOY. I hope to God you didn't pay anyone to do that to your head, when Inayah would have done a better job in exchange for some edible dirt.... Which reminds me; Mina, your child has an unhealthy obsession with licking walls. I am telling you, I will not tolerate such depravity at My Castle and you may write it down somewhere..."

Kulsoom Dadi's crazy ideas were a riot as they made us all crack up. Asad kept grinning sheepishly, promising the old lady, to visit the hairdresser she was recommending him.

"...He used to cut the hair of some celebrities a few years back. Including Afridi, (Pakistani cricket team Captain) and a few other cricket players." She smirked before continuing, "Do ask him if he cut off more than just their hair...judging from the way they're disgracing our country in this sport. The only thing unbeatable about Afridi this season, are the man's rugged good looks. HAWHAWHAW!"

"DADI!"Azaan squawked red-faced as the rest of us howled with laughter.

"I swear if I were their coach, I would order all of them to knit sweaters everyday for three hours." The old lady outrageously went on to explain her theory, "They need to be able to train their minds to be patient, and attentive to details. Big bumbling, strategically challenged oafs that they are...They need me for the locker room pep-talks, I'm telling you I can knock some talent into those 11 boys...literally" she calmly twirled her wooden cane.

"Great. Yeah, that's just what we need. For them to attempt communal suicide on the Indian Cricket pitch at the T-Twenty World Cup..." Mina snickered in an undertone, impressing me with her courage. The Dragon terrified me!

"I HEARD THAT."

"Oh you were meant to, darling..." Mina bravely chirped back before turning to me, her huge blue-green eyes lighting up, "So Layla! You and Azzy are pretty close. Why don't you tell us something he did? Maybe he'll remember it."

A dozen curious, encouraging eyes were suddenly focused on me.

I naturally felt my face heat up, when Azaan grinned at me.

He told me that I am his Shahnaz. A day ago, he told me that I make him want to be a better person. Then he hugged me, and I wanted him to never let go of me.

Can't really say all of that, now can I?

I decided to go with a safer story.

"Well. We were taking an IR class together, and our first hourlies were coming up. Azaan mostly slept during the lectures, unless the teacher was conducting debates and stuff, so he asked me to tutor him." I grinned as Aliya Auntie mock smacked Azaan, "We had just opened our books, and I asked him to read out loud, and he said--"

"I told you that I couldn't read." Azaan laughed. "Oh, God, the look on your face!"

"Well, I actually believed him for a second because he was so pitifully embarrassed about it! going all 'I know this is a bad time to say it, but...I can't read Nightlife!' I was shell-shocked! and then he started howling with laughter at my expression! And afterwards he got super offended that I had actually believed he could be that dumb...."

"Please tell me you made him eat the book. Please?" Mina gasped after getting over her hilarity. "Nightlife is an adorable nickname though!"

I pinked when I realized that I had told everyone about his nickname for me. Everyone including his mother and grandmother!

"Names should suit their owners, you know." Azaan drawled, shooting me a hesitant grin. My heart thumped at that.

"Well. I'm just glad you remember stuff now." I smiled back. Do you remember everything, though?

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

"Are you sure you want to do it tonight?" Shay asked me for the fourth time.

It's been a couple of days since Azaan got discharged.

His mother is most likely pampering him to distraction, because he is itching to get out of the house. Attending the farewell bash tonight is the plan for all of us. Shay extended her stay in Karachi, just to attend this last party before the guys finally graduate and move on (all except one 'Abnormally Overgrown' boy of course he isn't moving on quite yet!). Shay's parents are now comfortable enough about our friendship, that they allow her to have sleepovers at my place. Which is why both of us are getting ready together in my room, with some help from my personal stylist (AKA womb-sharer, Maria).

"I'm sure, Shay. I've waited a long time for him to admit what we share. Not knowing is killing me. I can't just ask him about it over the phone. And I can't just march over to his place, and demand that he repeat his words for me, now that he is in full faculty of his senses." I tremulously dabbed at the rose pink Dior lip shade I had stolen from Mama's mini Sephora (AKA dressing table drawer).

"So. How do I look? Ready to claim my man? Hmm?" I laughed nervously as I twirled in front of my best friend. Keeping in step with the theme of the party, (Go Desi, Or Go Home), I had chosen to wear a flowing, graceful black Anarkali Dress and dupatta, trimmed with dull gold wire-embroidery, and fitted chiffon sleeves. My silky light brown hair was twisted into a long fish-tailed braid. A gold Hermès clutch, and matching chandelier earrings completed the look. I had opted for two-inch heels, to ease my movements, in the long dress.

Shay smiled tear-eyed at me, before leaning in to hug me.

"You look like a tiny pixie. Like something out of a fairytale book! You can claim the world tonight Layla Hayat."

I shrugged.

Same thing. World. Him.

"Just let me know when you're going to do it. Please." She grinned gleefully, "I have a plan..."

My eyebrows shot up.

"No anonymous notes, Shay. And no lame poems."

She had the nerve to actually be offended.

"Just promise me, you'll signal me or something."

"Yeah, OK. Whatever."

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

"AZZYYY!! COME TAKE A SELFIE WITH US!" The hundredth female yelled these words since the party started an hour ago, at a local Golf-Club Ballroom. Azaan was once again whisked away for yet another group-shot, or selfie. It is amazing how many social groups he is a part of.

A while ago, I saw him posing with the girls football team. A while before that, he was hanging out with some freshman nerds from the Computer Club. It's so easy to lose him, in this mix of pulsing desi bhangra music, and occasional trance tracks. The dance-floor is packed with people dancing alone, or just raving together for the heck of it. Syra and Shay tried to drag me into the crowded mix, but I firmly stuck to the comfortable chairs Azaan had instructed me to stay close to.

He could sense my nervousness with all these wild hooting boys and girls. There are some things I will never ever get comfortable around. Public dancing is one of those things. I would rather watch safely from a distance, and laugh over my friends' attempt to humiliate themselves with Bollywood inspired dance moves, than actually join in the crowd, where someone can "Accidentally" grope me.

Azaan emerged a while later, his dark hair slightly windblown as it fell over his eyes. A pleased smirk on his face. I melted at his adorableness.

He and I unexpectedly color coordinated tonight. He was wearing a black, simple Kurta with a white shalwar, and the token Silver-gold Boy-dupatta slung around his neck. All the guys from his graduating batch had received the same dupattas, to wear in honor of the desi theme. Mostly, it was for the photo-ops. His carefully trimmed scruff over the square jaw, and the fact that he was wearing my favorite outfit, just made my day every time he ditched his batch-mates to keep me company. I was addicted to this boy.

"Guess who just bribed two cupcakes from the caterer dudes?" He asked, gleefully showing me a couple of mangled chocolate cupcakes with "Goodbye Batch of 2017" written over it in blue icing.

"I don't even want to know what you offered to them in return." I snorted, hesitatingly biting into the one he gallantly offered me.

"It's too big for you. You'll ruin your lipstick." He gently pried the cupcake from my hands, expertly breaking the thing in two pieces, and handing me both of those pieces back. I was so shocked at his gesture, that I almost dropped the cake.

"You gave me both of them, instead of stealing one." I marveled.

"It's the least I can do, after what you've done for me in the past few days. You're the bestest friend I could ever hope to have, Nightlife. God's truth." His candid smile turned a bit serious. And my heart turned over too.

"Whatever happened to 'I don't share food, Peasants!'?" I laughed nervously.

His eyes darkened at the sound, before he looked away.

"Rules always have exceptions."

Am I your exception? I thought. Before I lost my nerve, I began the conversation that had been a long time coming.

"Azaan, I--"

"Wooh! Guys, It is so hot out there! I'm dying!" Shay yelped as she crashed onto the seat beside mine. She took off her right-foot heels and began massaging the aching instep. I think she sensed the "Please Die Now" glares I was sending her way, because she suddenly clapped her hands to her mouth, squeaking out some lie about using the restroom, and scampered off towards the DJ's table across the ballroom. Azaan frowned at her strange behavior.

"Azaan, we have to talk." I began again. His brows drew up with surprise.

"We're talking right now." He gestured between us.

"No. We need to have a serious talk. Away from here."

Something about my expression made him instantly wary. He wordlessly steered me towards the mostly deserted corridor leading up to the ballroom. The enormous doorways was lined with marble statues, and priceless Aubusson carpets. The crystal chandeliers over our head were massive. This is why everyone was crazy about the farewell party. It was very fancy. And free.

"Did anyone touch you, Layla?" He almost growled as soon as we were out of earshot of a couple of late stragglers. "You're not going to try and hide it, okay? Tell me and I will deal wit--"

"What!? NO!" I shook my head vigorously until he calmed down and believed me. "Nobody touched me. I'm fine. See? I'm all fine."

"Well, then Dammit! never ever scare me again like that do--"

"WOULD YOU HEAR ME OUT?" I whisper-yelled in the middle of what was obviously an impending lecture.

"I'm sorry. Please speak." He sighed.

"Do you remember anything from your hospital visit?" I stammered. My heart was in my throat.

"Yeah. I remember all of my friends and family having fun humiliating me by recounting mortifying stories from my childhood and adulthood."

"Before that. Do you remember anything before that?"

"Well. I kinda remember things through what you guys have told me." He exasperatedly drew his fingers through his hair. "It is all mixed up with my fuzzy memories during the amnesia. So I don't know what is real, and what is not."

He didn't remember the most beautiful moment we've ever shared. The irony.

"Do you remember calling me Shahnaz?" My heart was planning to leave my chest it seemed.

His mouth dropped open at that, and he paled at my words.

"What did I call you?" he rasped out.

"You called me Shahnaz for two days straight. Do you remember that?" I choked on my tongue, my mouth drier than the Sahara desert.

His dark eyes widened, and he continued to gape horrified at me. My heart sank further when he numbly shook his head No.

"You called me Shahnaz. And you...you told me that you have feelings for me." I whispered, now looking down at my feet.

The guitar strains of "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls flooded out from the ballroom doors. Shay's plan, no doubt.

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't wanna go home right now

I could feel his gaze on my face. I remembered jokingly saying that if I were ever in love, I would want "Iris" to be playing in the background.

He knows that.

"Azaan. I love you. And I really, really like you too." I said to my feet. His own feet remained frozen, only a few inches away from mine.

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

"No you don't." He finally rasped.

My head shot up. He was looking at me with heartbreak in his eyes. He kept shaking his head.

"What do you mean, I don't?" I demanded, letting out a snort of nervous laughter. "I love you. I think I'd know better than you, how I feel."

He laughed once at that. A humorless, laugh that suddenly chilled me.

"No. You don't." He insisted. "You don't even know me. There's no way you could claim to love me."

I could feel a heat of anger creep up my neck.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm lying about you? You said it yourself, you said you were in love with me. You told me something that gave me enough courage to say the truth to your face now. That I feel the same way. And more. Do you think I'd stay for days at a hospital for just anyone? Do you have any idea how many of my prayers start with your name? Do You--"

"I have no doubts about my own feelings. But I'm not so sure about yours." His next words stunned me. Nearly whacked me in the face with a boulder, the way it felt.

"Why on earth can't I feel the same way for you?'

"Because you see me as a protector. I'm your safety net. The one person who got under your armor of defensiveness, and made you trust him. You don't love me, Layla. You just needed me for a while. You needed me to show you that the world can be kind to you. Even with your scars."

My world is collapsing around me, and he seems oblivious to it.

Is that all he ever thought of me? Like a parasite depending on him? needing him?

I couldn't even bring myself to say that he was bullshitting.

That's the worst part about making someone your foundation. Humans aren't meant to be foundations. They die. And they kill. They destroy.

"I've seen you grow from a shy, scared girl, to a woman who will one day change the worlds for a lot of people. I'm glad I had a small part in making you that way. I love you. But you're not ready for us. You're not in love with me. You're in love with an idea of me. An idea of someone you've come to need. And I won't be that person anymore. I refuse to be that person. In fact I am NOT that person. Because believe me when I say; you don't know me..."

My voice cracked as I blindly stared at the chandelier behind his head. The tears blurring out everything.

"Is that all I was to you? A fucking social project?"

"You know that's not what I meant." His strong hands came up to wipe the moisture from my eyes, and I slapped his hand away.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO THINK! WHAT TO FEEL!" I screamed at him, sobbing with the intensity that can only be brought on by a broken heart. Nothing inferior to that pain, will ever bring about such raw tears. "Do you think I'm a moron? That I don't understand when someone's insulting my intelligence? belittling m-my feeling!"

"Layla. You're not being rational about it. Look at us. Look at me...I can give you nothing right now."

I tried it. I looked at him. His beautiful face marred by what was obviously fake sympathy.

I got it now. It hit me a little late, but I finally got it.

He was regretting his actions in the hospital. He had no way to back out of his own words, and he was neatly putting all the blame on me.

My face crumpled as I remembered his earnest face from just a few days ago.

"I know I'm in love with you. I don't have to remember it to feel it."

I wanted that Azaan back.

"Please. Please..." I started, incoherently weeping. I have no idea what I was begging him for.

"Don't Layla. Don't force me to do something you'll hate me for later on. I'm not enough for you right now. Understand that. Among other things, there's a huge class difference between us, your family--"

He was saying no because of our class differences "Among other things"...

Allah. Do I have to listen to this too? Are you really that cruel?

"Stop." I whispered with finality. "Don't you dare say a single word more."

"Laylee, I--"

"Don't you dare say my name again. Ever." I trembled as I took in his face one last time. He looked devastated. Helpless.

He didn't look even a fraction as terrible as I felt inside.

'Iris' kept playing in the background.

I always wanted it to be the soundtrack of my love.

Now it was the soundtrack of my loss. My heartbreak.

"I want you to wait for me." His deep voice failed to move me. His desperation failed to gnaw at the walls I had already built protectively around my bleeding heart.

"I won't." I shook my head. "We're done here. Don't talk to me again. I don't want to see your face ever again."

"Layla, you don't mean--"

"DON'T SAY MY NAME. I AM DEAD TO YOU!" I screamed at him. The tears in his own helpless eyes would have torn at my soul an hour ago....Now, they just angered me.

I turned my back on him and started walking away.

The Heartbroken leaving the heartless.

"You're going to wait for me, Layla." He kept saying to my back, over and over. "You're going to wait for me."

I won't.

I won't.

Author's Note:

Be glad that my ancestors decided to create Pakistan on this day. Because I'm enjoying a mid-week break. Which means that I got around to penning this chapter like a maniac.

I LEGIT CRIED TOWARDS THE END GUYS *Wails*

Why do I do this to us?

*sniff*

Anyways. The story isn't over yet. So hold your "You EVIL SCHMANDLES AUTHORESS!! How could YOU!? aarghbuwysuhw" comments.

Or don't. Lol. Not like they bother me too much. *Adjusts horns*.

LEMME KNOW HOW YOU LIKED THIS ONE. It was VERY intense for me. and I compensated by adding a few of your favorite oldies from "Not That Interested"

(OMG ALI AND ADIBA ARE EXPECTING! I DIDN'T KNOW THAT UNTIL I STARTED WRITING ABOUT THEM!! AACCK. MY BABIESS!!! :*)

Don't forget to Vote and Comment peeps.

LOLs. (Lots of Loves)

-E.