[Enjoy!]

I laugh at the way he rushes to the washroom after the fourth SRK movie of the night..

He comes back and with hope in his eyes, asks me if I'm now tired of the melodrama.

I shake my head and enjoy the whining while he searches for another movie.

I take the remote and play Veer Zaara.

He sleeps before we are even 10 minutes in it. I don't turn off the TV, instead I snuggle closer to him, and lean behind more. I keep watching the movie until I fall asleep.

~~~

He straightens my hair as I dab my eyes with a tissue paper.

"Okay, you heard all of my childhood, your turn."

"There's nothing much." I say, trying to push the focus out of my tears. My wobbly lips make it hard for even me to understand what I just said.

"I want to hear that nothing much," he says as he steps away and looks at my hair.

I turn and move it to my sides, then push it back, "Do one last round."

Without complaining, he starts again from the left.

"So? Wait, how do you cheat on a maths exam—? That means you didn't know the formulas but you knew how to use them."

"Cheating doesn't only mean making cheats. I used to send pictures of my."

It's not until he breaks the silence that I remember I was talking and stopped midway. "Is that fine?"

I turn to the left to look at my hair in the mirror but all I see are my chubby cheeks.

All this chewing and my jaw still looks disgusting.

He called me outside for dinner half an hour ago but I ignored him and started brushing my hair when he came to check on me.

I don't know why he wants this.

I've eaten properly since the day we last fought— which means at least seven hundred calories per six days, and it takes me some time to calculate but as soon as the big number appears in my mind my heart halts and I feel like killing myself right away.

I suddenly look even worse and I feel like throwing everything on that mirror but that won't change anything.

The damage is done.

"Do not think about it," he says pressing a button of my soul,

"Do not think about what!" my anger scurries out, "About-"

No, no, don't.

You're not going to do that again.

It's not- it, it. Let i- fuck it.

"I'm sorry, I'm coming. Give me some time please."

I don't even look up at him. He kisses the crown of my head, I smile and he leaves.

I didn't even realise how these six days flew by so fast.

I'm lying to myself. I probably did it on purpose. I was getting to eat and I obviously wouldn't stop him from forcing me because I love fats. I love being fat and annoying.

The word itself is disgusting. I am becoming disgusting.

I wipe my tears and go outside. Azaan's eyes sparkle as if he was not expecting this.

Uh, obviously Sawera? He was expecting you because he knows the disgusting you but he was expecting to have to go and convince the attention beggar in you.

The servant studies him as he tells her to move aside and hurries to serve the food. I don't want to... tell him to stop, because he looks happy. Or because I'm suddenly okay with getting fat.

Fuck no. I swear I'm not.

I don't know how much longer I'll have to do this for.

"And for that, you need to recover."

Fuck.

No.

I grab the chair and sit on it. My head feels light.

Recovery.

I hate this word. I remember when this ex friend went into recovery and got so ugly, she looked miserable.

Today, taking a bite seems so hard.

After three of them I get so tired of it all. I promise myself to not put myself in this trouble tomorrow. By tomorrow this needs to end.

If need be, I'm going to buy a razor.

Azaan raises my chin, and I move my eyes from the plate, up to him.

He looks at me with dark eyes, at first I get frustrated thinking he's angry at me but then I hear the softness in his voice and realise how worried he is for me.

"You okay?"

Recovery.

As much as I might hate it, I need it.

I nod to him and try to forget everything I just said to myself. I replay the therapist's words over and over again as I take every bite of the meal in front of me.

You don't see your real self in the mirror. I know that sounds impossible because you have always seen yourself normal but think about it. Think about all the weight you've lost. Why do you think you feel this way? Because you can't feel or see yourself normally. It's a medical condition, don't worry about it. With some help and some efforts you're going to be okay. But in the meantime you need to eat. You need to be stronger to fight this.

~~~

Azaan said he'd be right back but the movie has ended and he's still not here.

I remember this one Sunday, I told him that I wanted to watch a movie with him and he made me wait more than two hours, pushing me with '15 more minutes, I promise' and then not showing up.

We never watched a movie after that until the other day with our friends.

He does this all the time.

And I was okay with that. I remember our dinner night, I remember how upset he got, I remember understanding what his priorities were. I accepted his priorities just the way they were.

I was okay with it all.

I adjusted to everything.

Kylie is someone I loathe.

Call it jealousy, I don't care. I hate her. More than that, I hate the thought of her having Azaan.

I was okay with it all, every flaw of his. But not cheating.

Why would he ever cheat on me?

Fuck him.

Why would he not, though?

Look at yourself.

Fuck. Stop this.

He wasn't— He was. I know he was. It's so hard to believe that he wasn't cheating on me when all those signs were in front of me.

He probably still is.

He's not.

Not right now.

Even if he is, that's not what your focus should be.

After a while of crying while thinking of stupidities, I wipe my tears and head towards the study.

As I walk to the door, I hear his voice clearer, "No. You will fucking drop by and hand them to me. Who told you to email them? Did I not fucking make it clear that I want it in paper? Print it all. Now. I want it here in twenty minutes."

I hear his voice as he curses under his breath and then his footsteps nearing.

I rush back in the living room, think of what to do, don't get any ideas and then rush to the room to get some more seconds to think.

Twenty minutes.

I look up at him when the door opens, "Azaan?"

"Yea? You know you look so goddamn beautiful when you smile."

No.

No.

Yes.

"Oh."

He chuckles, "Why didn't you watch the end of the movie? There were still fifteen minutes left."

"I didn't feel like it."

I see the worry making an appearance, "Why?"

Twenty minutes.

I pad to my side of the bed and tap on his after sitting down.

"Sawera? You're scaring me—"

"—No, I wanted to talk about. t-that. the day you were asking me about my childhood. You make me nervous."

"What?" He asks, bewildered for a second, "I mean, why?"

"I don't know, you're always in a hurry. You don't give me enough time to think before I talk and if I don't think then I say something that doesn't make sense."

I turn my face to my side in the middle of the sentence but I can imagine the frown on his face and the apology he's preparing.

"Sawera I'm—"

"—Don't apologise." It comes out rude. "I mean, I— nevermind. I don't want to talk. I don't know why I thought I could."

He takes my wrist in his hand before I go but his eyes stay stuck over my wrist.

I want to jerk my hand out of his grip but I don't want to hurt his feelings but I'm so uncomfortable with the way he's looking at my wrist that I can't focus on what he's saying. I just want to scream and pull my hand back.

Instead I put my other hand up on his and then use it to pull his chin slightly up to remove his eyes from my hands, "Can we talk without you hurrying?"

"Ye— of course. Come, sit down."

I start off very lame, telling him how there was really nothing much. It was the same day everyday. I used to wake up, go to school, cheat on some test, trouble some teacher and come back home to see my parents fighting, lock myself in the room and wait for my brother to come and change my mood.

Let alone sleepovers, I was not allowed to invite friends or go over to their house. My friends or company wasn't of any interest to my parents. I also chant about how perfect of a brother bhai was.

But slowly, as the conversation goes on, I'm reminded of some small but beautiful moments of my childhood. The fun parts.

They all come flashing together and I don't know where to start from.

I feel my mind going numb as I think what all of that meant. All those twenty-two years of life. They have no meaning. I lived a horrible life with some small fun moments, for many years I tried to find happiness and maybe even had it. In the small things.

Now. It has all changed.

Now, it's all awful.

Except Azaan.

I want to love him so much, I want to have a future with him, but I want him to love me too.

And if it's not him who loves me then I'm too tired to think about someone else.

I can't put efforts into anything at this point.

And if it's not him, then what am I doing with a soon-to-be-stranger in a bed?

It can't be anyone but him.

I can't imagine myself at this time next month.

I have a feeling I'll be dead by then.

Azaan will have already replaced me.

The sooner I die, the earlier he'll move on.

"Sawera?" He asks as I wet his arm with my tears. I don't remember how we got here. In this cuddling position.

I think we started off like that.

"I'm sorry." My voice quavers.

I forgot where I was.

He puts a hand over my waist and tries to pull me to him but I feel too conscious.

I turn to him, "If I ask you something, would you seriously reply?"

"What is it? What's troubling you? Sawera I love you, okay? Don't fucking doubt that please, I don't doubt your love you have no right to doubt mine."

"But will you answer without getting mad at me?" I wait a little, before holding breath, "How long will it take you to move on?"

"Move on?"

I nod, "Like, if I die or something."

"See? This is why you feel like that. You fill your mind with every negative imaginable thing then worry so unnecessarily and—"

"—Yea okay, I'm sorry. I knew you'd get mad."

"What else should one expect?"

"I don't know. Eh, change the subject. When are you going back to office?"

"I don't feel like going anywhere. Not now. I don't feel like leaving you. It feels very comfortable here. Around you."

I know why he's saying that, I love how he makes me feel. Right as I kiss his cheek, someone rings on the doorbell and I clutch on his t-shirt.

"I— Are y-you gonna go? Can you let it be, please? I'm very comfortable here. In this way. Please don't leave. It can't be anything so important." I utter out, resting my head against his chest.

He takes a few seconds before replying, "I think I should check once."

"Please."

I say and he takes very long to reply with a kiss on my forehead, "Okay." He pushes my hair back, "You w—"

I hear his phone ringing in the study and I look up at him to see him looking at me helplessly.

I take deep breath, move back and shift to get up but he pulls me to him. "It's not that important."

I don't know what it satisfies in me but for some time I feel really good about myself.

But then at night my self esteem drops even lower and I feel ashamed of what I did today. His phone rang many times. I felt better with every ring he chose to ignore.

I feel awful about it.

Why would I do that?

I didn't even have anything to talk about, I made all of that up.

Did I want to check my importance in his life?

Did I feel like his priorities have changed? Did I think I'm more important to him than his work?

He must have pitied me, with the things I said about my childhood he probably felt bad.

I'm not important to him.

I cannot be his first priority.

This proved nothing.

Nothing except how awful I can be to get the attention I want. It was probably some important work.

It must be some important work. He wouldn't have yelled at the person on the other line if it weren't important.

~~~

"Uh, I'm— I guess we can— I'm ready, we can go."

He takes one quick look at what I'm wearing and shakes his head walking to the closet.

I feel dizzy.

"I don't want to go, Azaan." I sit on the bed, I feel the lunch coming to my throat and I soo want to take the opportunity and puke it all out, but I don't want to break my promise.

"Here." He comes out with a pink, net and silk gown. It's too beautiful and I won't be able to wear it off.

"No."

He walks back in and pulls out a royal blue satin ball gown and I grimace, "Too extra. I'm fine, Azaan." Right after saying that I notice how awkward my yellow hoodie and denim jeans look in front of his brown coat pant.

He's thinking of an idea to make this work.

I get up and go to the closet to look for something better.

I find a simple silk ochre yellow gown with a waistband. I love the way it looks in that plastic bag but I can imagine how hideous it will look on me.

I push it back and go through other gowns.

I give up and walk out of the closet, "I don't want to go Az—" My mouth falls open when I see him in jeans and a flannel.

"Does it look— I don't think it looks that bad." He says walking to the vanity and I shut my mouth.

"No, uh, it looks perfect. I, you, don't wear that very often. It's just... different."

"Yea, you have your pho— Shall we leave?" He rushes a hand through his hair and lets it stay on his neck while I check him out.

I realise what I'm doing and walk out of the room, cussing at myself.

There's no purpose of going out. We were so good at home.

Agh, I hate this. I hate having to step out of the house. It's so fucking awful.

I sit in the car and I don't feel like moving from there.

I want to tell him that I don't feel good but it's not always about me. If he feels good, I need to stay.

He'd feel better without my presence.

I sigh.

Fuck everything.

No, he wouldn't.

"Do I annoy you?"

He taps on the steering wheel and looks at me, worry takes over his face "You okay? No you don't, I love you."

I push my head onto the glass and look out of the window.

"I don't wanna be here." The words escape my lips before I can catch them. "I mean, I don't wanna be anywhere." I'm making this worse.

"Fuck everything." I add. It can't be worse, I can't worry about this conversation anymore. I just cussed.

"What's up?"

"Do you really want to go on a date with me? Me?"

"Sawera, I. Love. You. Okay?" He looks around, "Err...? The sky looks beautiful."

I look up at the sunset and it's gorgeous. "It actually does." I stare at it, "Those colors... I've seen this combination somewh- That painting. That shitty painting you bought th- Oh fuck, no. Sorry. I didn't mean to call it shitty."

He chuckles, "It's okay."

"Is it? Then I'm going to be honest, it was shitty."

He looks at me and laughs. "Stop. It's not okay."

I smile at the way he laughs and my eyes travel down at his red flannel shirt. The way it embraces his muscles, it looks perfect on him.

I look away from him after a stupid thought and my eyes stop at the building he parks in front of.

What?

My heart stops.

This is...

"Azaan..."

"Huh?"

This is where... We had our first date.

I get butterflies in my stomach as that time replays in my head.

I feel my hand in his and look to my side to see him next to me.

He helps me out of the car and closes the door behind me.

He intertwines our hands and walks inside.

I'm not sure what I want to do but my heart wants to fly out.

This feeling is very different from the emotionless days I've had. I finally feel something more than self-hatred.

I freeze in the elevator and he pulls me out of my thoughts when he tugs at my hand to get out.

We walk to the same table and I don't want to leave his hand and sit down.

He looks up at me when I don't leave it and I quickly pull mine out, stuttering an apology.

He takes a seat in front of me and I feel intimidated by his flannel.

I suddenly feel uncomfortable with it and I want him back in his pant suit.

His gaze is intimidating too, it makes me feel more self-conscious than ever.

I forget all our intimate moments. He feels like a stranger and I don't want to sit here any longer.

His hair is so perfectly set, I didn't even check mine before leaving the house. I touch my hair and the texture reminds me of how I haven't brushed it after Azaan straightened it for me. Which was over four days ago.

I can't meet his eyes when he asks me questions about the place.

"Yea, it's lovely."

"Here it is." He says as the waiter puts the chaffing dish in front of us and Azaan rolls the cover.

It's that very same biryaani.

He looks at me, I look at him, I lower my eyes but he gets up and I have to lift them again to understand what's happening but before I can I'm on my toes, with my lips on his.

I clutch onto the thin material of his shirt with one hand while lightly pulling on his arm with the other.

It's been too long.

"Don't look at me." I say quietly right after we pull away.

"I'm not looking at you." I feel the smirk in his voice.

"Azaan, don't." I whine covering his eyes and lower my head to fucking get this scene in my head.

He laughs at it and caresses my cheek with his thumb.

What did just happen?

"Are you trying to hide your blush from me?" He asks and I defy,

"Not at all. I'm— I'm thinking."

Yea okay he brought a faint blush to my cheeks what about it?

He laughs and I feel like smacking his arm but I huff and sit down.

He gives me a smug grin while serving the traditional Pakistani rice dish.

My eyes go towards that flannel and I hate not being able to feel the age difference. He feels like a friend and I hate that.

I've always thought of him as someone behind my level of internet interest and knowledge but right now I feel like he's just a normal classmate.

"You seem... different." I justify why my eyes are on him.

"More handsome?"

I want to lie that he isn't because he's acting too conceited but I let my eye roll be the answer.

I take five proper spoons of it and drink way too much water. It's way delicious than I remember it to be and I want to binge eat but I know I can't because Azaan won't let me puke it out.

No, I mean I know I shouldn't puke it out so I won't.

I take it slowly.

Eating makes me so nervous, I feel nauseous out of all the nervousness and I'd rather not eat at all.

No, shut up. Everyone needs to eat.

But I've already had one full meal today.

"I love this place." I comment.

He takes my left hand in his right and gently rubs his thumb above the back of my hand.

"I'm glad you do. Sawera,"

"Huh?"

"You wanted a grand wedding, didn't you?"

"What? I? Uh, n— maybe. I don't remember."

"Do you like Pakistani weddings?"

They must be like Indian weddings but with nikkah ceremony instead of the mandap.

"Yea. I've never been to one."

His eyes glisten, "You've never been to one?"

"Seems like you have and you loved it."

"Yea, around almost a decade ago. twenty-thirteen."

2013?

He must be... "You were 20?"

He nods and I feel a tiny bit proud of myself for doing maths properly. This shit of a disease did bring one advantage.

"Have you ever been to Pakistan?"

I've never been out of the US. Have I ever been to another state? Oh once, with Abeer.

— A Z A A N —

"I've not ever been out of the US." She says and I stop my facial expression from changing despite how bad it hurts.

"You haven't?" I cough.

"I remember my first flight— well, first and only. Um, I know you don't want to hear it but it was fun. Like I was afraid as fuck but it was fun in general."

"No, I want to hear it."

Is she...? I hope she's joking but I can't see the humor anywhere on her face.

"No, well, um, it was with Abeer. It wasn't that fun."

But it was worth remembering.

Bora Bora wasn't.

Sevilla wasn't.

I clear my throat and look over to her plate, she raises a finger in warning, gesturing me to not put a single grain of rice more in her plate.

I smile at her and call the waiter.

It looks like she loves biryaani. I need to ask for the recipe and try to make it at home someday.

I watch her posture change when the waiter comes in and takes the chaffing dish.

She looks at her plate and plays with the spoon.

"But I have climbed many skyscrapers. I love buildering. Have you ever tried it? Have you ever sat on a motorcycle? You've never been to a concert, have you? Have you ever even watched the sunset? I'm sure you've never worn a flannel before." She keeps on rambling.

I love seeing her this way. I love having her chirpy side back. It's been long.

She talks a hell lot, she always did. Now, after having felt the absence of her not so melodious talks, they feel melodious.

"Checked blazers... They look good, uh, on you, yea. They do. Do you um, you wanna go shopping someday?"

"You want to go shopping after this?"

She keeps her eye level below my jaw and thinks of it before mumbling a "yea".

Below the sunlight she looks even paler. The mild dark circles under her eyes appear and disappear with the movements she makes.

She subconsciously pulls her neckline up again and again and tries to engage me into talking.

I know she feels uncomfortable but she never lets me watch her. This is the first time after so long that I'm able to look at her without her leaving the room.

She pushes her half full plate ahead and takes a few sips of water as I let the waiter know that we're done.

I knew she wouldn't want dessert.

I see the way she tries to control the breathlessness that's rising in her after seeing the baklava and I know she won't say anything but she's cursing herself right now and if I had for once tried to solve this mess earlier, this could have been prevented.

She doesn't force any smile on her face and plainly stares at the plate while moving her lips in words I'd rather not want to hear.

"Would you, then? Bhabhi's best friend is getting married."

She nods with a smile, moving the fork around the crumbles of the baklava.

"You, who was— I mean, how was it? The last time?" She asks.

"It was good. It was a relative's wedding. We—"

"Azaan," her breath hitches and I reach for her hand, "I'm so sorry. I—you, why not, why did you not say anything? I'm so fucking stupid, I don't know where my mind is, it was so recent I should have remembered..."

I squeeze her hand and console her but I can see her eyes turning red, "Sawera, it's okay. You're a human being and it's normal to forget things—"

"—Yea but it just happened, it's not even been a month... It, it was our first trip together."

"Hey, it's alright. I forgot your first birthday with me, this is nothing compared to that, we can have more outings in the future."

—  S A W E R A  —

He's too fucking nice.

I get my hand out of his and go straight to the restroom.

Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this.

I promise no more drama, I'm not going to forget, I'm not going to delay it.

It's today or never.

There's no benefit in wasting more time.

I look around the cabinets, there's nothing but a first aid kit.

It has scissors but they aren't sharp enough.

I swear this is no excuse they actually aren't sharp at all.

Fuck everything.

He waits for fifteen minutes before saying "I'm coming in if you don't come out in five minutes."

But then I hear his phone ring. After one call ends he makes another. A longer one.

I use the whole hour to cry and I wish we were home so I could just go to sleep in the meanwhile but I wash my face several times and think of the way he called his parents house his home.

And I don't even know why I'm thinking about this. My head aches so bad, I feel the food rising up till my throat.

I take advantage of it and puke as much as I can.

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