[Yuh-uh,]

"No, Sehar aapi, I can't." I get out of the car and try to manage the grocery bags and the phone all in the two hands Allah has given me.

I put my phone between my shoulder and my ear and close the door of the car, then search for my apartment's keys in my handbag as I walk out of the parking lot.

"Sawera. This is the last wedding in my cousins group. The next is going to be the next generation's. Mirha is very dear to me and I don't want to miss her wedding just because my best friend's too busy to be happy in my happiness."

"Your best friend?" I laugh as I zip my handbag once I'm near the building.

I feel the bags being taken from me and look at the figure in front of me.

Areeb.

I take my phone in my hand and stretch it away for Sehar aapi to not hear it, "No, no thanks I'll do it by—"

"—Ssh," he feigns sternness and tilts his head towards the phone.

Ugh, I hate people helping me all the time.

"Yea, my best friend, what's wrong?" She asks,

"No, nothing, I just didn't know,"

"how'd you not know? Abyan says it all the time."

"Yea, but he's a kid—"

"That's not the point. You need to come to Pakistan with us."

"Sehar aapi, I won't. I've never been there. I don't know anyone, where will I live, what will I even do?"

"Sawera jaanam, you're coming with me. Of course you'll live with us."

What does us mean? Does it include Azaan?

I'd ask that but Areeb's around.

I smile to him.

Wait, Areeb's around.

No, that's a bad idea.

"Sehar aapi, I have a very cruel boss and if I take even one leave he'll burden me with two days of extra work."

"Sawera, that's your mistake. I told you to partner up with me. You didn't like the idea. I don't care now, I'm not ever talking to you again if you don't come." She cuts the call.

I put my phone in my bag and think of it while opening the door of the apartment.

Areeb walks in.

"Thank you, Areeb, I could have done it on my own—"

"—You can pay me back with... the velvet cupcakes you're making?" He says, looking inside the grocery bags

Those were for when Abyan comes home, but since he's not and he's going to... agh, the urge to see Azaan.

What if I take Areeb with me?

What if Azaan sees me with Areeb, he sees that I've moved on, and decides to move on as well, because why would he not when someone like me can?

"Yea, sure. Areeb, would you, um, like to— so we have a wedding in Pakistan. Would you like to come with me? Only if you're free, like you don't need to waste time for me, and I don't really—"

"—Sure, Sawera, when is it?"

"Two weeks later."

"My parents have been asking me to go visit them for a long while anyway, I'd love to... Where is it, though?"

"In Pakistan."

He laughs, "Where in Pakistan?"

Oh, huh? How would I know? Forget Sehar aapi, I've never even asked Azaan where he is from.

Where am I from?

Wait, his dadi, um, she spoke punjabi?

"Sawera?"

I look at him in confusion and shrug.

"Anyway, I'd love to join in on some functions even if it's in the farthest corner from Islamabad."

Islamabad, yea that's one city. I think Azaan's family is from Lahore, though.

How far is that?

I know more about India than I know about Pakistan. If SRK ever went to Pakistan I would have learnt the whole geography and planned and plotted all the ways of getting to him.

"Sawera stop getting lost, make some cupcakes for me." He sits on my couch and goes through my Netflix account as if it were his.

I don't like that.

I like him as a neighbour and he's friendly and all but there are supposed to be some boundaries.

It's not his mistake he can't see them.

I never set them clear enough.

Azaan's the only one to whom I can happily show even my embarrassing teenage pictures.

I wear my earphones while I get the cupcakes ready.

Kis-kis ko batayenge judaayi ka sabab hum
Kis-kis ko batayenge judaayi ka sabab hum

Tu mujhse khafa hai to zamaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

Aa phir se mujhe chhorr ke jaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

Aa phir se mujhe chhorr ke jaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

Pehle se maraasim na sahi
Phir bhi kabhi to
Pehle se maraasim na sahi
Phir bhi kabhi to

Rasm-o rah-I duniya hi nibhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

Maana ke muhabbat ka chhupaana hai muhabbat
Maana ke muhabbat ka chhupaana hai muhabbat
Chupke se kisi roz jataane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

Aa phir se mujhe chhoṛr ke jaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa
Ranjish hi sahi

It's been my favorite song for the past couple of years.

I turn to look at my phone when the song changes.

"Areeb,"

"Don't worry, I know you're a fan of classical music, you need to listen to this one. It's my dadi's favorite."

I put the cupcakes in the oven while listening to the horribly slow music.

This is his dadi's favorite?

He asks for one of the airpods and enjoys the song with me.

I smile throughout the whole song and my cheeks get tired but the song doesn't end.

I take the cupcakes out and we sit down to eat them.

Areeb's always been a very humble neighbor, I feel bad for using him to have Azaan move on.

~~~

"My employer won't give me a leave."

"Sawera? You've not even taken one sick leave in these two-three years. How can he not let you? That's so selfish, unfair, immoral, unjustified—"

"Let it be Sehar aapi," I say it very calmly but the desire to just have a glimpse of Azaan hurls a longing ache in my heart.

What if I leave my job?

At the end of the day I'm ending it all once he moves on.

"Calm down, don't worry. I'll manage." I cut the call.

I sit down and write my resignation letter.

[Nuh-uh.]