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"When was the last time you weighed yourself?" He asks.

I've never been more embarrassed. I feel my body heating and blood rushing to my cheeks. I hold my tears in. "Um, yesterday." I get away from the mirror. I can't handle looking at my obese body anymore. "I swear I'm trying but I can't. Maybe, maybe I should consult another nutritionist."

He goes inside and I hold my cries in. I scream inaudibly and hit my thigh for making this so embarrassing for me.

I could imagine him leaning on the door jamb and saying, 'And you want me to love you? To love this body?'

He brings a weighing scale and my heart wants to jump out. I see myself opening the window and tossing myself out. How could I imagine that I deserved him and his precious time when I have this ugly body?

"No, I-" My breath hitches with a cry, he's hating me for even thinking he'd like to make love with that body. He or anyone. "Eh? I know it all. And I promise I'm trying. I get what you're trying to say a-and it won't, um," I take a longer pause than I intended to, "happen again? yea."

"What won't happen again?" He asks. He wants me to be clear so it doesn't happen ever again.

"Uh." I hate saying it so clearly, but he always wants clear answers. I grab my water bottle and take a few sips from it.

I'd rather stand on the scale and make him say it himself because I can't word out that I don't deserve to be anywhere near him.

I get on the scale and even one foot raises so many numbers all of a sudden, I take it off, scared to put the other.

"I won't try to get close to you." I utter. "I just thought you were sad yesterday and I'm sorry." I feel disgusting.

"What?"

What? Weren't the words properly constructed? I repeat myself, trying to sound more honest.

He looks at me as if I were pathetic.

I feel so helpless.

I suddenly feel my parents' toxic house was better than this. At least I had some worth.

Bhai. I need him.

I walk to the door, starting to sob. "I need the fucking keys, Azaan."

If he hates me so much then why does he not let me go?

I whine, "I won't let anyone know. I'm not as stupid as you think of me."

I wish I had thought twice before saying the last sentence, because what I did yesterday was a big stupidity. I still can't believe that even after knowing how ugly my body is, I asked him to make love.

"I am stupid. But I promise I have nothing to do with your life and I won't tell anyone anything about Kylie." I say and look up to see him wiping away the tear that jumped out of his eye without any warning.

Wha- Why is he crying?

The only thing in my hands was to get on the scale. He didn't move a bit from his place. He just watched the number and I followed his eyes to it. I quickly got off it.

I haven't lost a single pound since yesterday.

"I told you I didn't want to have soup." I blame him, when I know I was the irresponsible one. I took it too lightly.

"What do you think about your weight?" Another tear was wiped from below his eye as quickly as a bird flaps his wings.

I don't want to see him cry.

Confused, I answer. "I-I know. Please don't embarrass me any further."

"I want to know what you think about your weight." He asks.

I look at him and quickly lower my gaze, I wish this marble could just melt me and swallow me.

I get off the scale and put my shoes back on but Azaan doesn't let me go to my room.

"I know I am fat Azaan, stop ridiculing me. Did I not just tell you that I want to go jogging? You are the one not allowing me. Instead of making fun, maybe help me, motivate me." I complain and he just looks at me.

"Sawera," He keeps on scolding me with a straight face.

"I'm trying, Azaan. Please don't do this." I start weeping.

"You're trying what?" He asks.

I understand. My weight loss is not showing because I'm not trying enough hard.

"Did you even hear me?" He asks.

"I swear I'll try harder. Just- d-stop. Please." I sniff and he pulls me to his chest.

"Sawera," he speaks to gain my attention, his voice panicky, "look, I'm sure this is all fixable. You can still gain weight without getting hospitalized. It's all going to be alright." He kisses my forehead and assures himself.

Hospitalized? Is it that serious? I imagine my body in the mirror. I didn't realise I could get hospitalized for not being able to lose weight. I remember a friend of mine getting breast reduction surgery.

But she did that because she wanted to. Not because of her health.

Maybe I need a body mass reduction.

I need whatever it takes to lose weight. Starving and exercising isn't taking me anywhere.

I look up at him.

I study a fear in his eyes. Such a strong, well built man is in fear. It's a shock, a revelation. I cannot imagine strong personalities fearing something.

"Sawera," he's afraid of something, "we, it, it's going to be okay." This is the first time I've seen him speaking without having the words prepared in his head. He's stumbling upon them. "It's all, everything's going to be okay."

Azaan worries me. His behaviour worries me. Unable to understand, not really wanting him to explain it to me, I nod and lie down on the couch.

I don't think about the embarrassment I just faced, I'm too weak to think of it. My mind is blank, my mind just knows sadness, emptiness, hopelessness which makes me want to kill myself. But I've been hoarding all of that and keep on doing the same.

I don't express that to Azaan, I'm not sure if to tell it to him. If to tell him what hurts me the most. If to tell him that hopelessness is the worst that has ever happened to me.

That I despise living.

There's nothing that can make me feel better.

I wonder how I ever wanted to live. I think of what motivated me.

My stomach growls and I just look up at him.

I also feel ungrateful. I want to appreciate the things in life but I never asked for them, I don't know how to do that.

"When was the last time you ate something before the soup." He asks.

I don't want to focus on whatever he's saying, but I don't want to worry him more either. And unlike him, for me, Azaan is my first priority, even my own will and want comes later, let alone work.

"Can we not talk about this?" I ask and he keeps gazing at me for three total seconds before nodding.

Silence echoes in the room and makes me conscious of my self.

I draw patterns on his knee to distract him and slowly start slumbering down. "Azaan, I like being alone. I talk to the walls. I swear I do. And I do like that. And I don't want you to hear me. Don't skip office."

His hand slips down on his knee over mine and it reminds me of my own hands. I look at my hands and my fingers are fat. I don't like their shape.

How the heck do I have so many defects?

I like the surgery idea he gave me. I get up to search about it on Google but he doesn't let my hands go.

He holds my hands and gently squeezes them, then pulls them to his lips and I look up at his bloodshot eyes.

My heart races marathons. "Why are you crying, Azaan?" I sit up and pull my hands out of his to wipe his tears but he doesn't let them go.

"I don't want to lose you, Sawera." He's so calm, I barely understand what he's saying.

I focus and my heart comes to a halt. Does he hear what I'm saying in my mind?

He runs his thumbs across my hands and I pull them out, harshly. I feel like I was rude so I justify my action with truthfulness. "Uh no, I'm sorry, I- I just- I don't like my hands." Then I regret it.

"I love your hands. And your body is perfect. And I love it the way it is. Please don't do this to yourself."

"You love Kylie's hands. And her body is perfect. And you love her."

He lets go of my hands, "Kylie is fired. She'll receive her termination letter soon."

I shake my head. Maybe Azaan does have a wide range of preference, and he might like busty women, but no one wants an obese wife.

"Azaan, I'm not asking you anything, I never asked if you liked me or not. Don't say that. A spoken lie is worse than a hidden truth."

He continues, "And Sawera, I love your eyes, I love your hair, I love your eye colour, your skin colour, your hair colour, I love your lips," he pauses to peck them, "I love your nose, your cheeks, your ears, your neck, your collarbone, your-"

"Okay. Cool. Stop it."

"And I love you, the way you smile, your laughter, even your whining and cries, your boldness which is quite lost since a long time," he complaints, "your chirpy voice-"

"-but I sing bad," I laugh, trying to change the tension in the air.

"And I didn't mean to say that, you were annoying me that day." He says.

"And what annoys you?" I raise a brow. "Me being me? I was-"

"-I had a headache that day and I asked you to shut up a thousand times but you kept singing."

I laugh and then frown, "I know, I should have." I sigh, "I'm sorry." I bite my inner cheeks. "Okay, don't get angry, just one last thing related to her; does Kylie sing well?"

"And I love that you cheated on all your exams throughout school and college, that has defined your personality. I'm sure you would be way too different if you hadn't done that."

"Do you think so?"

He nods.

I chuckle, "Maybe. I've been caught twice in high-school. My brother used to cover it up from my parents." And I miss my brother so much.

"In our school, you'd fail the subject if you were caught cheating in any exam of one and maybe even get suspended."

I furrow my brows, "Perks of studying in a public school?"

It's funny until I think of it. Of how big of a stress school was.

And Azaan keeps complimenting me, so I cut him with the first thing that comes to my mind. "Why do people have children?" I ask. "I love kids, but I'd never have kids of my own because I know that if my love for others' kids is so much, then my love for my own will be limitless. And I'd not want them to face this. And on top of that, never be there when they need me."

I've never even smoked. I was afraid of becoming like mama.

Sometimes I wish mama was a better person.

But papa's worse.

At least mama cares.

I sigh, "When is the appointment you're talking about? And why- I mean, what is it for? I hate conversing with doctors."

"What do you do with your psychologist, then?" He asks.

"See? You never answer my questions." I humph and get up but he convincingly pulls me down,

"I'm sorry. Um, we should be leaving in about half an hour." He rolls his wrist and looks at his watch.

"And when are you going to go back to work? On Monday?"

He shrugs his shoulders off with a smile, "I won't if you don't want me to."

I smile, pulling my knees up and hugging them. "And what if I say that I never want you to go to work?"

I feel so good after talking to him so openly for the first time in so many months. The last time I talked to him this happily was the morning before I saw Kylie with him in a restaurant.

His face turned worrisome when I hugged my knees, and while I spoke, he pushed them down and pulled me on his lap.

Now, on his lap, I wonder if he can feel how much weight I have gained.

Well, that is visible anyway.

I try to pull out of his grip but he doesn't let me. "The worst thing to do to a girl who has had a luxurious life before marriage, is to take away all the luxury from her, I believe. And if I want to give you that life, I have to work."

I nod. "Isn't half an hour over?" I ask, trying to get his hand off of me as casually as possible, without making it arguable.

He doesn't remove the hand from around my stomach and kisses my ear, speaking in a low voice, "Nuh-uh, not yet."

"But you know how the traffic is, we should get going." I push his forearm down with a bit of force and rush into my room. I hear him laugh as my footsteps stop to lock the door.

I don a casual loose, long v-neck cotton yellow shirt, one that reaches my knees and a pair of high-waisted loose-fitting denim jeans.

I look at myself in the mirror and I hate how bad they look on me.

"Sawera, you ready?" Azaan shouts from the living room.

"Yea! Wait a second." I push my stomach in before I open the door and he looks up from his phone. He gets up from the place he was sitting at since I left and walks to me. I realise I forgot my phone inside and quickly go back, take it and rush out.

I'm about to walk from his side to the door when I see his eyes. And I roll my eyes, knowing that he wants another kiss.

"Sometimes I really want to get in your mind to see what's going on. You are... Unpredictable." I find the right word for him.

"If you could have a look of what goes in my mind, you'd often find yourself blushing."

I let out a single laugh and peck his cheek, I walk out and wait outside the elevator while he locks the door.

You really laughed at that as if he were genuine. He was just saying that to make you feel good, idiot.

After a while of having sat in the car, my stomach growls and I sigh. Isn't this the worst day of my life? Why is today so embarrassing?

Azaan's phone rings in front of me; without having to move much, I see Kylie's name.

He silences his phone.

I shift uneasily.

Azaan seems to be enjoying the ride until my stomach growls for a second time. That's when he realises I am in the car as well, and starts a conversation. "It's been long since we last went out together."

I hmm. "Is it far?" I regret coming here, I want to go back home.

"No, we're almost there."

A few minutes of silence go by, then I whimper, "How long will I have to sit there? I want to go back home."

He parks the car. "It'll be quick, InshaAllah."

He opens his side of the door and I get out of my side to breathe in some fresh air.

"I understood nothing that you explained at home and I don't want long sentences there. It's annoying." I huff and warn.

He looks at me with uncertainty, "More like, you have problem focusing."

"Azaan, I want to go home." I feel sick.

Having entered the building, I excuse myself to the restroom and vomit the whole soup out. I feel displeased with it and my throat aches. Maybe it was some kind of motion sickness, but later as I gargle with warm water, I thank Allah for making me vomit, I probably got half of the calories out.

I walk back to Azaan, near the reception and he guides me to the office of the psychotherapist he has been talking about. We're welcomed by her and sit there.

I can barely focus on what is going on, then I notice the eyes of both, Azaan and the doctor on me. Her smile hints that she has asked a question. My expression is self-explanatory; nor was I listening to her, nor do I have any interest.

I look at Azaan to whine again that I want to go home but the fear in his eyes catches my attention and makes my heart sink. His back leans on the jacket that he has hung over the chair and he puts his hand on the arm of the chair. He faces the other direction, chanting something in his head.

I look back at the doctor and apologise, "Sorry, I didn't- I, I wasn't listening."

"Mhm, and what were you doing?" She pulls out a paper from a file and notes down something.

She's so frustrating, but I look at Azaan and answer in a helpless whisper, "I don't know." I think of what I was doing but can't remember, "Thinking."

"And what were you thinking?" She intertwines her hands and leans ahead with a curious smile.

"I don't remember." I mumble, I wonder what it is with doctors that they want to know every detail.

She smiles and nods.

Ugh, how great would staying at home be. It is a terrible day, quite embarrassing, but contradicting enough, I'm happy today. Today isn't one of those hopeless days.

Azaan said he loves me, I'm sure a few more inches of my waist down and I'll actually become loveable.

I turn to look at Azaan, excited. But he's gone. He's no more in the office and in shock, I turn to the the woman. "Where is he!" I shout and shoot up from my seat.

She gets worried and stands up, "Who?"

"Azaan! Where did he go?"

A few days ago, I saw a serial on TV, where a married man is having an affair with another woman, and together, they pretend to the world that the wife has gone crazy and send her to a mental asylum where the doctors actually turn her crazy by giving her shocks on the head.

Azaan is doing that to me.

Sawera, you fool. That 'I love you' was false.

I rush out of the room and am met with Azaan's chest. Already dizzy, I feel more dizzy now, but Azaan handles it well and helps me rub my forehead, where I'm hurt by his chin.

"I see what you're doing. You and Kylie. I know you guys want me out of your life but I promise that can be done more calmly." I reassure him. "I promise it's possible and I won't even trouble you much."

Though I am hurt, now I know how to hide my emotions better, but when Azaan looks at me with those dark eyes, I know for a fact that he's genuinely upset.

I don't know if to trust my mind, I'm stupid anyway.

His hand is raised to the level of my breast and I see my phone in it. I see Dr. Samina's name on the screen.

He's talking to Dr. Samina.

My vision starts getting blurred.

"She said she wouldn't tell you anything until I allowed her to." I shout and try to blink slow but I don't see anything clear anymore. "I want to go home." I move my lips but I can't hear anyone until I realise I'm sitting down.

"Ten questions and we'll go home. Only ten, I promise."

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