[muddaton ke baad hum bhi,
sarphire se ho gaye hain]

- Z A I R A -

Aashiyaana mera saath tere hai naa
Ddhoonddte teri gali, mujh ko ghar milaa
Aab-o-daana mera haath tere hai naa
Ddhoonddte tera khuda mujh ko rab milaa

I stopped the music in my head and rushed for the towel. I was so excited to wake up the night before, I almost didn't sleep.

I wore my chunku munku cute little grey shrug over my outfit and took my lenses box before hopping out of my room.

My happiness subsided for a second and I rolled my eyes seeing him getting out of his room.

Subbhah subbah iss hi ki shaqal dikhaani thi, Allah miyaan? Jitna cute pehle din lag rahaa tha utna hi beghairat lag rahaa hai aaj.

I climbed down for breakfast and he pushed past me to go sit down.

I swear I hate him so much, so so much.

Allah miyaan bas aik dafaa ijaazat dein, abbhi butter knife se qatl kar doon.

Gruh, dekha? Jis ke liye excited thi, taaya abbu woh hi nahin hain. Yeh iss ki manhoos shakal dekhne ki wajaah se huaa hai.

Khair,

"Waah, aaj toh taaya abbu mujh se late hain," mwah Zaira, what an outlook.

I watched his empty chair and took the time to wear my lenses looking in the large mirror at one of the farthest corners of the dining area.

I hummed kooch naa karin to avoid the silence and when phuppo complained I not only hummed the melody, I sang the words.

"Tera jaana seene teer waangu wajda
Mohalle wichoon kooch naa karin,"

I blinked after putting it in in my right eye then sat down on the floor for the second one because it's always a bit harder.

"Tenu takeyaan binaa nahin dil rajda
Mohalle wichoon kooch naa karin"

I pointed at myself in the mirror while watching phuppo glaring at me,

"Tere naina wich rab sacha wasda,
Tera pyaar sanu eho peya dasda,
Tere bina nai, pyaar saada sajda,
Mohalle wichoon kooch naa karin

Ve maaiyaa,
Mohalle wichoon kooch naa karin"

Mama picked her shoe up and I was about to hurry and get up but I saw taaya abbu walking in and wiggled my brows at her.

I set my hair and hummed for the bit that it took me to walk to the dining table and turned my phone on.

Before I found the video in my slow phone, taayi ammi noticed the hand prints on my wrists again, "Abbhi tak gaye nahin rashes? Tum ne cream doobaara toh nahin lagaayi? Aise kaise itni dair reh sakte hain, dard toh nahin hota? Doctor ko dikhaao, Zaira, yeh normal nahin hai."

"Bilkul papa waale dialogues." It's all that came in my mind apart of the truth.

Rashes nahin, aap ke bete ki badtameeziyaan hain.

The loading ended.

"Taaya abbu bhoojein kal mujhe kyaa mila," I was so excited I showed it to him without even waiting for what he was going to say.

"Yeh kahaan se milaa tumhain?" He asked and I shrugged.

My phone rotated all around the dining table and I prayed for my 1600+ Atif Aslam audios.

If it slips down anyone's hand...

I get my phone and my chain back.

Bechaini waala chain, in case you didn't get it despite the italics.

Anyway, I miss Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan so much even though he died before I was born, I just know if he were alive, even if he were in his late 60s, he'd be my main crush right now.

I'm so jealous of taaya abbu, he got to enjoy a private concert of his.

Waise, taaya abbu was quite cute as a youngster.

I mean, he's much cuter now with the wrinkles and the salwar kameez attires, but seeing him at that Private Mehfil held at the Imperial Hotel New Street Birmingham in 1985, in that coat pant, it looked like he must have been the ladies' man in his times.

My eyes fall on the ladies' man of today's times but I blink them away when I see his on mine.

Taaya abbu ke gaal kheenchun gi abbh.

He went into serious mode after watching that concert clip and he's such a pakistani father, like I get how he can't get emotional in front of the family because he needs to act strong and I don't know I find that really cute.

He cleaned his plate silently and left without waiting for his brothers.

Mama found an excuse to scold me, "Zaira, yeh waqt hai dikhaane ka? Naraaz ho gaye naa bhai-"

"Nahin, achha lagaa unnhain," taayi ammi gave me the softest sweetest smile.

"Haaye Allah kabhi mujhe bhi koyi aisa mile, main bhi kabhi kisi ke dil ki baat itne asaani se samjhoon jaise taayi ammi taaya abbu ko samajhti hain."

So risky, but I let the comment go and didn't raise my eyes to look at anyone.

I pushed my seat and ran out of the house.

- H A M Z A -

I laugh when I see the documents attached with the CV, and look at her, "Cute. But doesn't work here."

The light in her eyes falters as she understands her lie has been caught,

"Wh-"

"Nuh-uh, don't cover it up," I roam my eyes on her and put her in that mental box of my type of women, "there's no place for liars in this company," I make a mental biography of hers as I put on a neutral face, "you can leave. And take this fake certificate, it might work somewhere else," I toss the file across the room.

She gets up to pick the scattered papers up, then heads to the door but gives it one last chance.

She tries to reason and smashes a few I really need this job while I think of all the dangers pleasure could come with.

"May I have your phone Ms. Falak?"

I put our phones aside and get up on my feet as I present a deal.

Before I reach the door she's already leaning on the desk. A smirk slithers up my lips as I latch the door.

I kind of get why abbu hates me.

Girls like Falak could get the whole company in trouble in a second without any hesitation.

But I don't think Falak will.

Even if in the longer term this ruins a bit of her self-image, she's loving it as much as I am.

♡♡♡

I hear Zaira singing right after entering the house.

I slow down the car to park it.

Before I proceed I see Zain sitting two steps behind her.

"Bin tere mujh se naaraaz tha dil
Tu milaa hai toh hai keh rahaa
Main toh tere rang mein rang chuki hoon,
Bas teri ban chuki hoon
Mera mujh mein kuchh bhi nahin
Sab tera"

I watch her looking at the grass while singing it to him. I move my eyes to Zain, who's smiling with his eyes on her.

"Main toh tere dhang mein dhal chuki hoon
Bas teri ban chuki hoon
Mera mujh mein kuchh nahin
Sab tera
Main toh tujhe mil ke jee utthi hoon
Teri dharkan mein chupi hoon-"

I honk the horn twice and speed up to the stairs having them quickly get up.

"AISE KYAA CHALAA RAHE HO, ghar ke andar ghusaani hai? Ajeeb hai, badtameez."

Her sweet tone suddenly changes to an indescribably different and harsher one after seeing me. You can't even recognize both voices being the same.

She keeps on ranting and I cut her with, "Koyi love park nahin hai yeh. Joh abbu ko bohot passand aa rahi ho naa tum, aik dafaa aise dekh lein chhitrol lagaaein tumhaari pataa chale phir tumhain."

She furrows her brows at me and turns to the house after a full-of-arrogance hair flick.

Alina, -I didn't even notice her sitting with them- she watches me and I watch her back.

I move to park but her look irks me.

I get out of the car and run inside to catch up with her, "It was just to annoy her, nothing else, don't look at me like that."

She looks at me from head to toe, toe to head, and stops at my eyes to raise a teasing brow, "No need to justify anything,"

I look down at my hands when she adds,

"jeeja ji," and runs away.

I roll my eyes.

- Z A I R A -

Cousin gatherings, I love them. But I'd have loved them even more if this awful Mr. Asshole wasn't there.

But, focusing on the bright side, agh the comfort of being with your loved ones.

I love when Zain laughs. He's a silent one and that makes his loud times even more special. I love it when he gets hyper about something that happened in the office or something that caught his eye while driving home.

I miss him so much. I just want to hug him and love him and- I'm really afraid of losing him. I loved Mr. Asshole with the same intensity and I miss our group. I miss Nida too. She was so nice with me I don't know what's wrong with her lately.

I miss playing with them. I wish- Agh, why is Mr. Asshole so rude? He used to be so loveable back then. I miss what we had.

If Mr. Asshole were nicer I'd love to go in a gang with him, Zain and Nida to ring the neighbors' bells and run.

Haaye...

I scooted back and rested my head on the sofa that we had pushed aside.

"Aise so lo gi?" Mr. Asshole scooted next to me,

I was about to nod, getting soft at the way he showed care for me, when he continued,

"Nahin, warna chaar paanchh lamps pakar laaun? Storeroom mein haun ge zaroor-"

"Office mein koyi larki mili? Huh? Mil gayi ho gi naa abbh tak tou? Nahin, warna guzaara kaise ho ga tumhaara?" I smirked.

He hid his fury, "Kyun? Koyi naa mili tou tum-"

"-Baqwaas nahin bhonkni soch samajh ke bolo."

He smiled a very mean smile and watched Nida tell an anecdote.

I watched the outline of his face beaming in the dim light. His dimples standing out.

I hate him so much.

I looked at Nida.

♡♡♡

I moved my hand and flinched at how it had gone numb.

Why don't we notice our body parts until they pain or in some way, seek attention?

Khair,

It was too late but the worst thing about being a writer? Being creative and getting into the mood of writing when you literally cannot possibly get a pen and a paper but that's when thoughts come out straight, so I had to excuse myself and be loyal to the writing spirit.

"Suno, aur agar abbh main,

bachpan ke saawan beete
larakpan ki beeti dhaara
jab murr ke dekha peechhe
toh chhutta jeevan saara

phir bhi teri aas pakar ke
har ik din guzaara hai
teri ik nazar pe meri
saans ka sahaara hai

tum se binti karat hoon
dil toro naa humaara

ke dil jhoom jhoom chale
jhoom jhoom chale
sohneya sohneya

dil jhoom jhoom chale
jhoom jhoom chale
sohneya sohneya

gaati guitar ke saath tou kitna dramatic comfy winter movie jaisa lagta na? haaye, kaash guitar bajaana aata mujhe- MAHIRA KHAN KO ATIF ASLAM NE SIKHAAYA THA AUR WOH BHI SIRF-"

"Haan bas sab ko pataa hai, toh phir I went to the principal," Nooreh continued and I rolled my eyes before struggling to get out of the blanket.

My whole left thigh and leg had slept down and the side of my back also seemed too stretched.

I crippled till my room and sat down on the desk. I was so busy in writing one of my favourite scenes that I could not concentrate on whoever was on my door.

"Nahin, please-" I kept on writing,

"Mhm, your room smells so good,"

I looked up at him and what on earth was he doing in my room? But the scene was more important, I'd forget the main dialogue.

"What perfume do you use? No, this doesn't smell like a perfume, it smells like- is that a hair product?"

"Shut up yaar," I pushed my hand behind me to show it to him as I wrote down the dialogue on one corner of the paper before this idiot made me forget it.

"Quick, I don't have time for you."

Mere hi kamre mein aa ke mujh hi se baqwaas kar rahaa hai tapori. It made me not want to give him any attention.

Only once I was done with my scene did I realise he was still here.

I could sense him. I sense an unsafe environment whenever he's around. He's the only member of the family that gives those treacherous vibes to me.

And not like, gali ka gunda types vibes. Even a gali ka gunda would be better.

And him being in peace makes me anxious.

Lighting my heart on fire is the only thing that brings him peace.

He seemed to be in peace, calm, still, and that worried me out. I couldn't hear anything, and when I took a hundred and eighty degrees turn, I found him calmly sleeping with my blanket rolled on his upper body.

I laughed at it.

He was wearing jeans.

I had heard his- Zaira, don't. If you're reading this to your grandchildren and you have alzheimer and don't remember it then let me remind you he was famous enough to appear on my feed no matter how many times I added him to not interested.

I never stalked him. Make it clear to your grandchildren.

Anyway, so he oftentimes talks about how much people that sleep in jeans irritate him and how he can't have a single piece of clothing on his body apart of-

Basically, his lie has been unfolded, he has no hate against those people, he only hates me and maybe someday Alina or Haroon must have told him that I rarely ever change before going to sleep, and since then he must have made it a grail to gather all the facts that he knows about me and hate them all.

I walked to the door and even though it was already open, I opened it all the way.

I don't need phuppo to come up in my room just awain because my kismat is never with me and she coincidentally decides to land on my door today and then blame me of trying to ddore ddaalna on her daamad who's maybe never going to be a daamad-

and I swear dear grandchildren, one of my current friends, Anza, she keeps blabbering about this asshole of a guy and that is the only reason how I know that he doesn't believe in marriage.

- H A M Z A -

I open my eyes to tell her how good her bedsheets smell but the sun stabs my eyes.

It's morning already? Didn't I just close my eyes?

I groan in pain and get out of her blanket.

It definitely is morning already. I feel much more relaxed. This was the best sleep I've had in the last five years.

I wonder how the sun's shining so hard though, it's not even 7AM-

It's 10? Is it 10?

I blink hard and pray the wall clock doesn't have batteries but as I get up and check my phone I see 10:02AM.

I hate waking up late even as a consequence of hangovers.

I don't tend to drink that much for this very reason.

I fucking hate sleeping in jeans.

I slam her door closed on my way to my room.

Surprisingly, my mood isn't as bad as it should have been considering all these triggering pet peeves happening to me all at once.

I watch her sitting in my room writing on a bunch of papers,

"Why the fuck would you not wake me up?" I ask walking in and she jumps out of her seat, the color leaving her face for a second.

I put my phone on charging on my sidetable and watch her get frustrated because I scared her.

She turns to the desk, "Don't talk to me in that tone,"

"What the fuck are you even writing?" I pick the stack of papers up and she gets up to get them out of my hold, "You spent the whole night on this?"

"Please, I've not slept, I have no energy to fight with you, please don't invade into my privacy- do you not get it? I said don't bleeping read it- Allah,-" she tiptoes and tries to reach for it.

"You're writing a... screenplay?"

"Why do you love playing with my mental peace-?"

"-Is this a screenplay though?" My brow irks up in curiosity,

"-Please stop it for Allah's sake-"

"-Are you writing this or is it-"

She pushes my chest away, "Why does it matter? Why are you ruining it for me? It's my thing. It has nothing to do with you. Stop it," she gulps her tears down her throat, or so her voice shows, "please give it to me."

She pauses with tears twinkling in her eyes, really thinking I'm going to give it to her after what she said the other day to me.

Mujhe rote hua dekhne ki khushi tumhain zindagi mein nahin mile gi.

Oh really? I smirk, Because I think not.

"It's not funny to me, how can you still- This is why I hate you. This is why I've always hated you. You are never going to change. I swear to Allah someday I'm-"

"Going to cry in front of you? Yeah?" I complete it for her.

She stares dead into my eyes with those tears still twinkling, she opens her mouth to say something but in a period smaller than an instant her eyes darken twenty shades, her eyebrows furrow slightly in pain and her face flicks to the other side to leave but I manage to get a hold of her.

The whole two minute scene fitted into one second puts me in an anxious spot as images of her scars travel in the back of my head,

"No, I'm sorry I was just kidding Zaira, I didn't mean to-"

"Leave me," she looks up at me, zero tears in her eyes, she slurped down the ones on the edges as well because the edges are now nothing more than empty.

"I promise it was a joke, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I said, leave. me. the fuck alone. NOW." She stands a breath away and rotates her wrist in my grasp.

"So you go and harm yourself?"

Her thick black eyes stop at me one last time, as if losing all faith. Her lips quiver and I swear to God I wouldn't even realize how bad it sounded had I not noticed the change in her whole posture.

- Z A I R A -

His grip on my hand got loose, "No, I- that's not what I said, you're taking it wrong-"

It's not a joke, my past is not a joke. It is a big deal for me.

This is worth writing, Zaira. You need to remember this. Remember why you need to stay away. Why you should not be anywhere fifty miles from his radar.

I shook my head to him, silently signaling abortion to the mission of self love I've been on for the past six years.

My breath didn't come out. I needed my fucking inhaler- but he shouldn't know.

He shouldn't know anything.

I got to my room and locked the door.

"I swear to God I'm sorry Zaira, I promise you're taking it wrong,"

I scattered everything in the room to find a small inhaler and once pumped, I felt even worse.

I had not felt so bad in years. I had, I had not felt so bad from the day he left my life.

I wiped my tears away and went to the door,

"How does it matter even if I kill myself?"

"It... I don't care it shouldn't at least be because of me."

?

I'd die and it wouldn't matter to him-?

What are you even asking yourself at this point, Zaira.

Is there literally anything left? Is there anything that can go worse on his part?

I wanted to smash a chair on his head but I felt too weak.

I'd rather go to sleep.

I plopped down on my bed and felt anxious about my precious work being in his room.

You can't do anything about it, Zaira! Go to sleep.

My heart ached for a bit but Atif Aslam relaxed it in seconds.

Kis ko fiqar hai
tumhaari yahaan par
Agar bhar hain jaati
teri dhadkanein

The spot on playlist made me tear up a little too much.

- H A M Z A -

"Hamza, tumhaara naashta maiz pe lagaa diya hai."

"Aap se kitni dafaa kahaa hai mera naashta naa banaaya karein?" I open the fridge and take some eggs out.

"Oho, ttheek hai. Abbhi toh khaa lo, tthandda ho jaae ga."

"Achaar? Achaar khaaon? Seriously, ammi?"

"Haan. Paraatthe ke saath achaar. Salman Khan waali body maintain karne ke liye insaanon waala khaana zaroori hota hai. Bilkul amrikan bann'ne ki zaroorat nahin. Yeh omelette-shomelette khaa ke banda do saal zinda reh sakta hai, phir baad mein yaad ammi ke paratthe hi aate hain."

Is she talking like Zaira, or has Zaira been around too much?

I crack the egg and I adore the way ammi gets upset.

"Tumhaari biwi ko toh naashte ki fiqr karne ki zaroorat hi nahin. Roz... woh tum logon ka... kyaa kehte hain? Breakfast in bed, haan."

There it goes. Always a mood-ruiner.

"Yaar ammi aap ko shaadi ke ilaawa kuchh nahin soojhta naa?"

"Kyun nahin?" I hear Nida and turn my neck to her, she walks in and watches my omelette, "Kab iss bare se ghar ke chhotte se aangan mein kisi nannhe munne bache ki khilkaariyon ki awaaz goonje gi and all those Hum TV dialogues. Abbhi se. Imagine what'll happen after Sahil bhai gets married. Nooreh toh-" she whispers the last part and slices her throat.

I look at ammi and I thought Nida was exaggerating but she's right.

I'd rather concentrate on the omelette. Ammi's too melodramatic.

I see Sahil coming in, "Apne bare bete pe dehaan dein, office kaam karne kam raaste mein larkiyaan taarne zyaada jaata hai. iss ki toh P.A. bhi larki hai Astaghfirullah." I purposely tease him and he punches my stomach not so lightly as he walks in and picks an apple.

He goes to pick a knife, "bare musalmaan ban rahe ho? larkiyaan main taarta hoon? hum-"

"Larkiyaan taarna chhoroo, bhabhi apne larke ke kaarnaame toh sunnein," chhotti chaachi walks in and I hurry to sling my omelette on the plate, ready to leave as quick as possible.

I get the plate and fork and walk out but she gets a hold on my ear, "Ah, chaachi yaar,"

"Chaachi yaar ke bache, flirt karte hue yaad nahin aaya main tumhaari chaachi hoon?"

"Toh? Yeh kahaan likha hai chaachi se flirt nahin kar sakte? Oopar se itni pyaari haun toh banda control kaise kare?"

"Haaye Allah," she hides her blush, "kitna badtameez ho gayaa hai yeh."

"Yaar Sahil tumhain nahin lagta chaachu ka jackpot lag gayaa hai? Chaachi aap kuchh saal aur intezaar kar leti, itni bhi kyaa jaldi thi-"

"-Haaye Allah tauba,"

I wholeheartedly laugh at her bright crimson cheeks.

[joh kabbhi naa tha humaara,
hum uss hi ke ho gaye hain,]