[To those who don't understand Urdu: I'll add the translations in the comment section soon.
I'm sorry if you read the book offline :(
(Can someone please take the responsibility of translating in return of a shoutout? Because we all know what my 'soon' means.)

Enjoy!]

I slam the door of the car aggressively as I sit in. Azaan comes and sits by my side, the driver starts driving. I rub my temple and glance at Azaan, who's still worried why I insisted on leaving the place.

I clench my teeth and feel like hitting the window with my fist. It's the second time this week someone has made me feel that I've put on 'a bit' of weight, and my dietitian is doing nothing but telling me to eat healthy, shoving tons of vegetables and meals in my chart.

I groan out of frustration as Charlotte's blunt question appears in my head, "when's the due date?" and her uncertain smile at my questioning look, "aren't you pregnant?"

That's not a question to ask even if a woman is expecting. Basic ethical values.

The warm moonlight follows me as I furiously make my way towards the apartment, without waiting for Azaan, and pick up all my courage to go to the second-last floor using the stairs.

I'm angry at Azaan for not warning me that this dress wasn't hiding my fat well. Perhaps he didn't even notice it, for all he can notice is Kylie. He deserves no explanation of why I'm taking the stairs.

And I'm never going anywhere with Azaan. He doesn't deserve that either.

I get tired after the fortieth floor and take the elevator for the rest of the sixty or seventy floors.

I get to my room and search for the chart Bethany, the dietitian, gave me. I tear it up and toss it into the dustbin. I grab my calorie journal and write my goal for tomorrow as two-hundred calories.

That's it. That's what you're eating Sawera. Enough is enough. You're going to wake up at 8AM tomorrow and go jogging.

My dietitian lied to me when I told her that the weighing scale was reporting that my weight is increasing. She lied that it was okay in the beginning, she told me to not weigh myself daily, she said weighing scales were false.

She's a liar. I have no time to figure out why she lied to me. I'm going to call her first thing in the morning and cancel my membership.

It's time to join the gym.

The door bursts open and Azaan pulls me around, blurring my vision. "What!?" He yells. His face inches apart, his eyes narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. And his jaw clenched.

"What?" I ask, as loud as he yelled at me.

"What are you doing? What's wrong with you? If you didn't want to go you could have told me instead of leaving in the middle of the party."

"Azaan?" I raise my shoulders slightly and shake my head as I look at him in disbelief. "I-" I did want to go with him. "You never realise your mistakes."

That day we went on a date and he talked on the phone for an hour or so and then convinced me into not leaving. It was his mistake yet I forgave him.

When I allowed him to make a call in the car, and Kylie told him that she had been calling. It was his mistake, yet I apologised at night.

When I started praying, he never appreciated me properly.

I hate going to his house, yet I do every Sunday, just for him. He never appreciates that.

I let him control my life, just to satisfy his 'Pakistani man' ego, he doesn't even take a day off to spend time with me. I don't beg for his time, he doesn't appreciate that.

I draw in a deep breath. The burning hard stare lasts only as long as it takes him to think of the most brutally cutting thing he can tear me down with.

Was leaving in the middle of a party this humiliating? Or is he this angry because he's done with my tantrums? It doesn't make sense to me.

He slowly takes a step back and walks to the bed, resisting every way he can hurt me in. He sits down and I see his muscles tense. He tries to divert his attention on his phone.

I understand he's extremely angry - and although, I don't understand the why -, I don't fuel his anger. I tap my heels on the marble tiles till the washroom and slam the door.

I hear his voice, low and deep in anger, "Stop slamming the fucking doors."

I don't think he appreciates my mental strength enough. I'm Razzaq Ahmad Khan's daughter. A man who's known for anger issues. Doesn't he understand that I have it in my genes, yet to avoid further fights, I walked out of the room?

Before I can open the door and talk back, I'm met with his chest. I look up, kind of afraid, hoping he isn't here to hit me out of anger.

"What's wrong?" He asks, calmer.

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?" He repeats "Why are you so angry?"

I look down at my nails. Is he okay? Why did he get angry? And how did his baseless anger simmer down this quick?

"Sawera," He speaks, drawing my attention back to the question.

Nothing that can be shared. How do I tell him that his friend's wife doesn't have any education on social behaviour?

"Nothing." I monotonously utter. "I'm sorry."

He puts his hands on my hips, closing the distance between our bodies and guides my chin up. "It's unethical to leave a party like this-"

"-So are your friend's wife's questions. She should know how to behave in public."

"What. Happened." His muscles tense again.

I look in his eyes for a moment or two.

He pushes my hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. "Look, I understand. I've noticed how awkward you get when intimacy or anything related to it is discussed out loud."

I guess he just guessed that, because he was busy talking with his friends.

That's not what I'm upset about, but yea.

"And it's not supposed to. But you can't leave a gathering all of a sudden, without any excuse." He calmly makes me understand and I nod.

The problem, anymore, isn't what she said. It's that Azaan didn't warn me. Because he doesn't even look at me properly. If he noticed my dress, he would have told me that I was looking fat. But he doesn't have any time for anyone except work and Kylie.

Cool. I'm not dependent of his time either.

I push his chest away with my forearms, throwing daggers at him but he doesn't seem to catch the anger in my eyes and proposes an idea accompanied with a smirk, "do you want to shower with me?"

I walk out of the washroom.

I pick my phone and set an alarm. 7AM. I need to wake up at 7AM, take a shower, wear my tracksuit and go for jogging. No ifs, no buts.

I go to the walk-in-closet and take my orange silky nightwear; a spaghetti strap crop top and shorts.

I go to a guest room's attached bathroom and take a long, relaxing bath. Once I'm relaxed and able to think of the night more calmly, I let the incident go. It's okay. She didn't mean it, after all. She apologised after her husband told her that the pregnant couple isn't us, but another friend of his. Maybe she's regretting more. I get out of the bathtub and look at myself in the mirror.

The anger rises again, this time, on myself. I do look like I'm reaching the end of my first trimester. I have to lose all of this.

I change into my crop top and shorts. Just about a month ago, I looked perfect in it. After deleting my Instagram account, I've stopped taking care of myself.

I don't like the cellulite on my body. I get out with my party dress in one hand and go to my room. Azaan's probably in the study room, which makes me less anxious. I'd not want Azaan to see my body fat. Although he sees it every night, but probably doesn't focus much. Or doesn't complain even after knowing it all.

I change into a more concealing nightwear. I only have a few full nightwears, I have to either lose weight real fast or go shopping. I'd prefer the former.

In order to wake up early, I have to go to sleep early.

~~~

I wake up at 7AM. I call Ramsha.

"Ramsha."

"Hm?" Her voice isn't groggy, neither is mine. I really want to lose weight, it's stealing my beauty and making me anxious about my looks. And she wakes up at 6AM everyday.

"I'm coming to your gym, jaanam." I get out of bed?

"Jaanam? Aur main jaan sakti hoon ke tum kyun aa rahi hoon?"

"Uh-uh." I babbled as I saw Azaan coming back from his gym. "Aa ke bataati hoon."

"Phir phone kyun kiya??"

I cut the call and rush to the washroom before he can. I lock the door.

"Hey Azaan, I need to go somewhere really urgently. Please use some other washroom. Thank you. Sawera." I make it sound like an email. I quickly jump into the shower while he whines. I add, "Oops, I meant sir."

I quickly take a shower, wear a bathrobe and walk in the closet, I change my outfit to a casual one and quickly grab myself two apples. I kiss Azaan and get going.

~~~

The gym membership didn't take much time, I bought a tracksuit, a water bottle, a bag and all that is needed midway here. The only thing I have to do now is to change.

I do so and start my first day. It goes quite smooth, I try every machine. Ramsha, a pro now, helps me with everything.

We get out of the gym and while ordering for two BigMacs at the McDonald's drive thru, I reveal the main purpose of calling her in the morning.

"I wanted to call you yesterday night, but I was upset because of that stupid girl." I get upset again, remembering that.

Fuck her.

"Anyway," I brush it as excitement slowly rolls down a yoga mat in my brain, "Yesterday's party wasn't bad at all, because," I get on my knees on the seat, "Guess what?" I grin widely.

She blinks, confused.

"I FOUND THE PERFECT GUY FOR YOU!" I jump on her, hugging her tightly. "And I finally won't feel the odd one out in Azaan's thirty years old peers'parties. There will be someone my age, I can't tell you how happy I-"

"-God, who are you talking about? And how can you alone-"

"-I alone can decide your future partner because I know what type of guys you like and, TRUST ME. He's perfect for you. And you're perfect for him. You both are made for each other and I'm getting the honor of uniting you twooo!" I squeal with excitement and tears of self-contentment.

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak but I give her no chance to talk;

"Stop getting so despo to meet him." I tease her, "Because, darling, I just set a blind date for you guys." I sing song with a shimmy and hear a gasp from her side,

"SAWERA!?"

"Don't worry, I know it'd be weird for you to go on a date with a guy you've never seen, so I decided it'd be a double date. Azaan and I are joining you."

"Sawera, stop it-"

My eyes turn wide in horror and I scream, "DON'T TELL ME YOU FOUND SOMEONE ON TINDER!"

"No. But-"

I sigh in relief. "-No ifs or buts then. I'll text you the restaurant's name and location, you HAVE to come. Damn, you know, when I called him a cool guy, his friend laughed and revealed that he likes cold pizza dipped in soda and I was like that's it. This is the guy for Ramsha."

Her eyes soften and face slightly lights up, she brushes her hand on my chin, "Can I, at least, know his nam-"

"-You have to wait, it's a surprise. Trust me with this, please. When I saw him I was shocked. He's exactly- like, I can't even explain how perfect you both are for each other. It's surreal." I wipe the tears away. "Anyway, you have to come. I've already spoken to Neeti and Samia and now you gotta drive to Neeti's house because they're both waiting for us." I sip the smoothie and when she offers me a Can I Murder You? look, I display the set of my puppy eyes.

~~~

I breathe in, and out before screaming again. "I'M SO EXCITED, AZAAN!"

He pushes himself away on the seat before monotonously speaking, "You've been saying that for an hour now."

"But I am excited. I feel like Jesus gave me the power of-"

"-Allah." He takes a corrector and whitens the Jesus part.

"Yea, whatever. I don't think of the name, I think of the power." I'm about to continue when he sits to explain, eyes softer.

"But Jesus is a-"

"-I don't care, Azaan. I feel like God gave me the power of uniting two soon-to-be-lovers and I'm so excited for Ramsha and Rehan. Even their names start with the same letter. Jes- Uh God, I can imagine their peng wedding."

"Jesus is a prophet and Allah means The One And Only God." He says.

I know he wants to continue lecturing but he's ruining my mood. I look at him to stop him but I notice how much this matters to him. I stop myself.

I lean and listen to his long explanation for the next seven minutes till he ends with, "There's a huge difference. Stop using Jesus."

I know he realizes that I use Jesus because of my nikamme friends who probably don't know this fact and influence my vocabulary.

He turns the engine off.

"Okay, Imam Sahab." I say and don't wait for him to open the door for me. The fresh breeze of the cold night gets me more excited as I get out of the car. He walks to me and we walk to the restaurant.

Rehan waves at us, and we walk to the table he's at.

I see Ramsha walking inside and secretly gesture her to hurry up. "Am I late? I'm sorry." She smiles guilty as she sits next to me.

"You're perfectly on time. Meet Rehan, Azaan's friend...? Best friend? Doesn't matter. A really cool guy." And your soulmate, you're welcome.

I stretch a hand to him and move it between them. "Rehan, meet Ramsha, my best- My second best- One of my best friends." I struggle. And your soulmate, you too are very welcome.

They shake hands and he compliments her looks and I hoard a squeal. I bounce my eyes at Azaan, gesturing between me and them. See how perfect of a couple I just united? I frown as tears of happiness threaten to spill out.

Azaan happily grins at me, Yes, I see that. and tells us to order. I let the conversation flow and try not to disturb them both or force anything but my excitement pushes me to jump in the conversation and warm it whenever the engine slows down.

I try not to make any noise but squeals of excitement escape here and there: when they share that they like the same, specific but obsolete flavour of Lays; high-five for being on the same terms in political opinion; and when I see the sparkle in their eyes after they bond like two four year olds on liking the same music band, I can no more control. I excuse myself to the restroom and after getting there, I scream and jump for two entire minutes.

I laugh and look at myself in the mirror, I proudly pat my back.

What a beauty. Such a good eye for perfection. I'm impressed. I'm amused. I'm delighted. Very well done, Sawera. Bravo.

I run back to the table after grinning at my reflection. I see my man, and the two souls I united, engaged in an emotional conversation. I drag Ramsha out of the conversation by nudging her arm.

"Do you like him?" I lean to her and look at her from the corner of my eyes.

I spot the slight colour of change on her cheeks. "But he's Bengali-"

"-When will Samia the useless come in handy?"

"But-"

"-Stop trying so hard to not sound desperate. Do you like him?" I repeat and look at her from the corner of my eyes, and she nods. SHE. NODS.

My excited scream is stopped short and turned into a groan when Ramsha hits her heel on my foot.

I turn to Azaan, who's staring at me and slightly shaking his head.

"Sorry." I apologise and at the same time, feel sorrow for Rehan when Ramsha questions him, continuing the conversation I interrupted- about his recently demised grandmother.

~~~

I look at myself in the dressing table mirror. "Main motti ho rahi hoon?" I ask Azaan as he steps out of the washroom.

He glances at me, then walks the rest of the way to the bed, "Naah."

"I'm sure you show more interest when Kylie speaks."

I see him fixate his eyes on my reflection, "Nope, you aren't Sawera, and I love you. Better?"

"Yea, but that doesn't change the fact that I am." I frown and he stares at me.

"And I thought these dialogues were theatrical, only."

I sigh and walk to bed. I've been working out well enough, but controlling my diet seems hard. I end up eating the double of the calories I burn.

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