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Slowly, weeks pass and I start living in my room since Azaan doesn't even care about me anymore.

I think he's using the excuse that he's upset at the way I left that day but the truth is, he was just always searching for an excuse to stay away from me. And there is an obvious reason.

I stalk Kylie almost every day on Instagram. She is beautiful. I hate exercising so I've printed her pictures and I dramatically look at her everyday to 'motivate' myself. It sometimes works. Somedays I feel like I'm getting there.

Azaan will someday find me better than her. If I become all of what Kylie is and above it all, the bonus points of being his parents choice, there's no way Azaan won't fall in love with me.

Other days I get frustrated and don't even get out of bed because I feel so hopeless.

What if I never get that figure? I don't see any improvements in my body. And even if I get nearly there, how will I become as smart as she is?

On one of the hopeless days, I notice that it's been two weeks since Azaan smiled to me.

And I know it's my mistake.

He is a typical Pakistani man who wants emotional support when his family is flooding in ghum (which means all the time, because desi families never get rid of ghum) and I left him alone.

Without even explaining.

That's not how fussy a Pakistani wife should be.

I'm completely aware that I won't get him to start loving me, but maybe an apology will win me a smile? Even if it's a forced one? I light some hope.

I hop to the study and knock on the door. He's on a call. I enter and he glances up at me.

I sit down on the chair in front of him and when he cuts the call, I try to start. "Azaan, you know, um, you don't know what happened that day." I say. "At your house. I didn't want to leave, but-"

"But?" He cuts me. Indirectly telling me to spit it out faster because he has no time for my ums and uhs.

I pull a ball from his desk and mold it. "Um, I don't like the way bhabhi speaks. I mean, I don't think she chooses the right wo-" I'm saying when he tsks and I look up from the ball.

"-Sawera, I have a lot of work to finish." He makes eye contact after pushing his files away. "It's too late, it'd be better for you to go sleep." He says.

"Yeah, okay. But listen to the whole thing." I know he thinks I'm not going to explain the entire problem and I'll just say what I say every time; this makes me uncomfortable. And I think the same but maybe he should let me try.

"Will you tell me the problem you have with pregnancy or do you want to go to a mental health professional?" He asks and I don't understand neither the hurry nor the rudeness.

Is he calling me a psychopath? I try not to show the anger that soon starts boiling inside of me and continue, "Bhabhi wasn't the main problem, Azaan. Your m-"

"-We can only talk after you tell me your problem." He says, indirectly telling me to go to hell because he is not interested in talking to me.

I watch him work as if I don't exist.

He doesn't want to talk it out.

It's okay.

Of course, he's happy with me being silent with him.

This fortnight of sadness for me was a fortnight of peace for him.

I lean back and try to erase the thoughts I'm getting.

Even if you live with your enemy in one house, it's impossible to not be worried for them. I'm his wife. Even if he didn't want me to be.

"Uh, Azaan-"

"Sawera go to your fucking room." I stare at the throbbing veins of anger in his neck as he says this in the calmest of the tones he has used with me. What's wrong with him? I'm calm.

That wasn't a shout but it felt like he wanted to shout.

He watches me for a while, then pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks back at me, I see his jaw clenching and he leaves the place, slamming the door behind him.

I didn't do anything.

What in the fuck is wrong with him?

Is he upset just because I talked to him and ruined the happiness he was getting by not talking to me?

I open the door, walk to my room hit it closed and fall on the bed.

I call Ramsha and tell her that I hate Azaan but then I remember what happened two weeks ago when she called Azaan to inform him that I was exercising on my period and I realise she's Azaan's rat so I cut the call and just cry.

~~~

"Sawera?" He knocks on the door. "I'm sorry?"

I close my eyes and wait for the morning.

The next day, I don't go to gym, I don't even use the treadmill. I despise going out so I stay in bed the whole day. I know all my efforts are useless, Azaan is already in love and most probably isn't the guy who could fall in love again.

I keep overthinking until a thought strikes in. He is too religious to have an extramarital affair.

GOD.

I get up and run to his study. I check all the drawers, brush every paper of every single book in the library, the whole place.

WHERE ARE THE MARRIAGE PAPERS!?

Once I'm done searching the study, I go to his room.

There's nothing. I get out of the walk-in closet and see him walking to the washroom.

His hazel brown eyes land on me and he stops. "Oh, hey."

I'm about to go to my room when he calls my name. He pulls his blue cotton kurta's sleeves up and rolls them outwards.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." He says with those eyes that melt me and I tell him to wait, then go to my room. I give him the letter I wrote yesterday.

He takes the envelope with a confused chuckle and I get out of his room, get on the stool to lock myself in my room and lie on my bed, closing my eyes tightly.

Not wanting to hear anything about the letter, I push my fingers in my ears. But the whole letter comes word to word in my mind in his voice as I wonder what he must be thinking while reading that.

Good evening Azaan sir,

Thank you. Maybe if you hadn't told me to speak quicker I wouldn't have thought about writing a letter. This feels much easier than wording it out.

I don't have anything with pregnant women, I just hate thinking that the whole world evolved in this way. Anyway, that thought subsided after a few weeks of visiting her at home. I don't feel embarrassed for the people who don't feel embarrassed for themselves.

When we went to your house, your mom went to your room, where I was already sitting, and explained how she wanted grandchildren and plain ass told me to just give her grandchildren as if I were a chicken and the meaning of my life were to just lay eggs.

My problem is:

- I don't like that.

-I don't want to think about that, so please don't ever talk about it.

-I don't want children but I didn't know how to not break her heart at that moment, so I just agreed. Tell her that we're not ready.

-I don't want to ruin your and Kylie's relationship. I know she got upset that day when she saw us together in the office, maybe because you hid from her that we were close enough to kiss? And I'm sure she'll react even horribly when she finds out that you and I have a more intimate relationship. It'll take more than six hours to convince her, won't it? Let's just go for the safe no-children marriage option. ;)

Also, I don't know how to end letters so,

Kind regards?

PS: I just realised that you're supposed to write the date and place on letters. I left no margins in the beginning so I can't add them now because it looks beautiful and I'd feel bad. You can do it if you want to, though. I don't want this letter back.

Love,

Sawera.

After a while, when I hope he has already finished reading, I hear a knock on the door.

I open it to see him holding the letter with one hand and his laugh with the other. "As if you were a chicken?" He asks and I close the door when I hear him laugh.

He has a really bad sense of humour. An extremely bad sense of humour. A sense of humour that needs treatment.

But I feel good after making him laugh.

~~~

I'm going back home from gym when Abeer's name flashes on my screen.

I pick up the call and my right ear is filled with apologies. I swipe my phone on my left ear to get some satisfaction from there as well.

"Sawera, I'm really sorry. I know, I've realised my mistakes. I know how horrible I've been and I feel awful about it. And I want to apologise."

I know what's coming next, so I stop him. "Eh..." I scratch my temple. "It's okay. I'm a little busy, Abeer, can we talk later."

"Sawera, I'm truly sorry, and I'm trying to become a better person. I'm sorry for the whole time I was with you and I'm also sorry for that day at that auction place."

"How's your new girlfriend?" I ask and he tells me how he left her because she was cheating on him and I laugh at how he thinks I'm still as stupid as I was before.

"Yeh agar tum ne teen-chaar mahine pehle kahaa hota toh main maan leti, yaar." I park the car and lock it after slamming the door.

I climb upstairs and he tells me that he needs a chance and that I do not deserve someone like Azaan, and that he'll even leave his videogames for me.

I cut the call and open the door to our apartment.

I'm panting from the stairs and I gulp two sips of water before smiling at how ugly life can be.

Really God?

Abeer was always on his videogames and after him I asked You to give me someone who gives me time, but You gave me a workaholic. Worse than Abeer. At least Abeer took me out every day and didn't cheat on me.

~~~

I look down from the window. There's no way I can climb this many floors down without going viral on Tik Tok.

I take my bag and bottle and unlock the door after chanting prayers. It's 7AM on a Sunday. Azaan should either be in his study or his bedroom, sleeping.

I silently close the door and sneak out. I hit the gym for two hours. When I sneak back in, Azaan's on the dining table. I put the gym bag in the shoe rack and touch my hair. I did blow dry it after taking a shower.

Azaan looks up and doesn't see me at first, but after a double take he stands up taking my name, sounding surprised, and twists his neck to look at my door.

I try to quickly sprint to my room but he's faster behind me and I feel like Jerry from Tom and Jerry. He holds my wrist like Tom holds Jerry's tail.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks, rolling me to him. "What the fuck?" He looks even more confused after he utters the rare curse word for a second time.

Half a minute of silence.

"What was this whole week of disappearance?" He takes my hand and pulls me to the sofa. "Five f-" He purses his lips to insert a meaningful pause, "days and I don't even know the problem yet. Can I know what's bothering you?"

I sit on the sofa while he stands with his arms crossed, towering me.

His patience seems to have run out and he might not have acted this angry if I had not tried to run to my room. When I don't reply, he carries on. "Are you upset about what ammi said?"

"No." I tell him.

"Then what- Did someone, did you call your parents? Did something happen? Did I do anything wrong? Are you still upset about that study thing?" He keeps asking for two minutes and I feel like I'm giving an interview.

I just shake my head and he growls throwing his head back.

"Do you want to fight?" He asks, and his tone is so casual, if I were drinking I would have spewed my drink out of my nose.

"What?"

"I don't know. Ammi sometimes acts annoying on purpose when she misses fighting with abbu." He says.

"What?"

"Is that a no?"

I snort. "What the fuck, Azaan?"

He shrugs and gets up. "Will you confess it while having breakfast?" He holds a hand out.

I shout a 'No!' and he creases his brows at me. "I mean, I got hungry after working out and I had two burgers."

He shakes his head, going towards the dining table. "Why does everyone eat junk food after working out? What's the purpose of working out, then?

I take the chance to leave to my room and latch the door. I hear him sigh, and he shouts, "The next chance I get, I'll remove the door."

Thank you for the warning, I won't give you any chance now, Azaan.

~~~

But then, being a human being, I make mistakes.

Three weeks later, I get out of my room to refill my water bottle, forgetting that it's a Sunday and he comes out of the study.

I freak out and run to my room but he pulls me to his. I pull him to me to stop him from going and removing the door and he does stop when tears stream down from my eyes.

I promise him that I'll be fine in just a bit of time but his questions are still the same.

"Sawera," He speaks in a soft voice, "can you please tell me what's wrong? Did I do anything? Or did something happen? Please tell me what's wrong because I'm not all the very good at reading minds but I'm sure if you tell me the problem we can sort it out together."

"Is feeling low not, okay? Don't you sometimes feel sad for no reason?" I look at him, pushing down at the strong grip he has around me.

"Maybe, once a year. But the sadness doesn't last four-five weeks." He reasons. Wrong, it's been longer.

"Mine does." I pull his fingers away from his hands. "Please, Azaan." I whimper and after a lot of crying and many promises that I need some time before telling him why I'm always in my room but I definitely will tell him very soon, he finally let's me leave.

I am satisfied. More satisfied than I was a month and a week ago. I know I'm loosing weight. The slow process stresses me out but I love feeling my ribs.

I know I'm doing it. I'm doing it right.

There will be a day when I'll reach my goal and there'll not be any need of this.

~~~

While Azaan's in a meeting, I'm in his office, searching for his first marriage papers.

I look everywhere and when I don't find them, I go to the archive-storage room to search for Kylie's file. But that room is locked. And the receptionist won't give me the keys unless Azaan gives her permission.

~~~

Azaan comes home and I hear his sneeze from the main door. He sneezes three more times before walking to the study.

I make him some coffee and knock on the door only to hear Azaan saying, "Bless you," while laughing. He gets serious after the knock and I wonder who he said 'bless you' to. He smiles at me, thanking me for the coffee and gently takes it from my hand.

"I'll call back later." He says and puts the phone down. I see Kylie's name before the screen goes black.

My heart halts for a second and the thunderstorm outside feels like a cry from my heart.

"Thank you for this." He says after a long sip, lifting the coffee, "I really needed it."

I force a small, anxious, fake smile, "Why-How, err, did you get this cold?" I struggle as my brain builds thousands of images in seconds and focusing on words gets hard.

"I don't know," He shrugs, taking a card in his hand, "Maybe the rain."

"You stayed out?" I ask and he swivels in his chair.

"Naah, just dropped a friend home." He has that oxytocin smile and I ruin it by asking,

"And... that friend was Kylie." More than a question, it's a claim.

He looks up, his smile flies out and another thunderstorm echoes.

"I- I don't." I don't know what to say. I can't lie about not having a problem. I have a huge problem with her and he knows that. But I don't want to ruin his mood.

"Sawera?" He asks, sternly, as if telling me that what I said were a sin. As if I were accusing him of something he is not
doing. As if him being with a naa mehram late at night isn't a sin.

I get up. "Khaana garam kar ke rakha hai, main khaa chuki hoon." I leave the room.

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