[Look. I'm sorry, okay?
I'm genuinely sorry.

Also, I'm sorry if a lot of talking is not your thing, but it's essential in a relationship. Esp, a relationship going through a hardship.

:(

Enjoy!]

I sob out Azaan's name as I walk to the washroom.

Because he loves Kylie.

I push my toothbrush in my mouth and turn it on.

No, don't do that again. He only loves you.

Wai—

Can he please, like specify what he loves in me? Because there is literally nothing.

I look at my stomach as I move the brush around my teeth.

I pull the shirt back, visually measuring my waist.

It hasn't gone down. It's so ugly.

It's impossible to love me.

Fuck, how did I trust him?

But he can't lie like that.

Why would he say that?

Why is his taste so bad?

I'm not attractive.

Maybe I should have listened to Abeer.

Maybe cigarettes will help me lose weight quicker.

He was probably right. Smoking won't be addictive if I control the consumption.

I yell Azaan's name with my toothbrush still in my mouth as a thought strikes in and tears glide down my eyes.

I spit the paste out and wash my face.

I pause and watch my stomach as I breathe.

Whenever I exhale I look uglier. Why can't it stay concave all the time?

I watch his reflection come and slide his arms on my waist.

"Don't you dare think that again. You are fucking beautiful!"

I turn around, "Why did you get angry at me for... merely loving you? You were enjoying until Kylie saw us. You yelled at me because y— our—... that upset her."

"Can you ask this again, later? Because I can't think properly right now."

I hate that he's always thinking of other stuff and diverts my attention too.

Instead of stopping him or pulling away, I lean against his chest.

"That had nothing specific to do with her. I don't want anyone, anyone to know what we do in our intimacy. But— we need to talk about something more important." He says and I mentally groan.

I know we have a therapy session today. I don't want it.

"I know you didn't want to make love, earlier in the morning."

Oh.

He waits and reads my uncomfortable expression, I almost reluctantly nod when he continues,

"I didn't stop because I didn't want you to think that I don't love you."

He caresses my nose and looks at the drawer while I fidget my fingers.

"Why don't you wear nose pins, anymore?"

I inhale as I think of where I put it. I'm so disorganized, I hate it.

"Let's make it clear. Next time you don't want to make love, you will tell me to stop. There's nothing to feel guilty about."

I nod.

"I can't hear you."

"Yea, Azaan. Don't ask me anything, please."

"Mhm. Let's get into the shower?"

I shake my head and walk out of the washroom.

Why is taking showers so hard?

I want to go home.

No, Sawera.

It's beautiful in here.

I'm going towards the kitchen when another question strikes me. I hoard it but see another one coming.

I follow the urge to ask it all and stop killing myself with baseless overthinking.

"Can we stay in bed, please?"

~~~

"I promise you won't even notice the time passing. It'll be fun." He drags me to the couch.

"I'm going to leave if I don't like it."

I slide down on the floor and he slides next to me.

"AZAAN! I'm going— I don't want to talk to anyone." I whine, looking at him.

His lip twitches on the left and I look at the macbook.

"Hey Sawera, I heard you. I didn't know I was that bad of a therapist."

Her office door said 'psychotherapist'. Is a therapist the same?

My eyes dart towards myself.

Shit, man. I need make up.

Why do I not do it anymore?

My heart— Fuck, I want to cry.

"Turn the camera off, I want to—" I would even tell him but he already thinks all I do is sleep and cry.

"You want to...?"

I turn the mic off.

"Do you love me?" I whisper.

"Yes, I love you, Sawera." He whispers back.

"Promise me that if I ever get annoying, you will tell me." I speak in a low voice.

"You can never—"

"—Liar. This is why I can't trust you. I know I've been annoying—"

I get up and run to the room when I see him texting the therapist that we'll be right back.

"Talk to her. She's more interesting." I yell and lock the door.

"Don't start with that again. I trusted you with the doors. Don't make me break any."

"You won't have to if you leave me alone."

"Sawera. You promised me that you'd trust me. Open the door."

Shit.

"Please, don't do this again. Let's go. Fifteen minutes and we'll go for a walk."

"Can we, um. Not this wom— Can we change the woman? I don't like her voice." I always speak before I can think. "I know mine's worse but— I can't speak to her."

Her voice is too sweet for her face. She fakes the sweetness and I hate it.

"Yours is the best especially when you moan my name." He winks and leaves while I plomp on the bed and dig my head in the pillow.

He's too nice.

~~~

"Let's talk about your hobbies. What do you like doing?" She asks.

After fifteen seconds of mere staring I realise she's talking to me. "Eh... I don't know. I—" I try to think of anything. Any single thing. "I... don't know."

"Come on, I'm sure there is something you love to do. Apart of spending time with Azaan." She looks at Azaan and laughs.

Oh.

She's right. Spending time with Azaan. That's... the only thing I love? I look behind me, towards him.

"You enjoy baking, don't you?" Azaan rubs my stomach and I put my hands above his.

"I— I like baking." I stutter.

I look at Azaan and mumble, "Shit, I stuttered. I don't want to talk to her, now."

He smiles, "It's okay, princess."

Oh... That's... He needs to change my name on his phone, God. What was I thinking of when saving that?

But he makes my eyes glisten anyway.

I look at the screen.

"And you love watching Bollywo—"

"No, don't tell her about that." I whisper.

This is why I liked Dr. Samina more. She knows what Bollywood is and wouldn't find this weird. All this white lady knows is that namaste step and she'll think I'm weird.

"What about doodling. Don't you love—"

My heart stops. "—Did you check my journal?" I whisper.

"You once showed it to me, Sawera." He reminds me.

"Oh, sorry."

That lady on the other side of the screen whisper-shouts, "Stop whispering." And laughs.

And she's not funny. She needs to shut up.

"Doodling. We were talking about how much she likes doodling."

How the fuck is time going so slow? It's not even been two minutes?

"Do you want t—"

"—No, please." I cut her. "Don't ask me if I want to tell you anything about the last few months because I don't want to. I don't know why we're doing this. I was— I didn't cry— okay a tiny bit but I was generally happy. I don't know why you all don't leave me alone even after I'm okay. I understand having to talk to you when I'm sad but if I'm perfectly fine then don't treat me like a freaking psychopath, please. I'm fine. I don't need y— this."

The silence after, makes me want to go and punch the woman. She inhales and I already feel like kicking the macbook away.

I mute the mic.

"She inhales like a fucking teacher and I'm sorry but if she does this shit again I'm not going to be able to behave."

He looks at me with a playful disbelief and I roll my eyes.

He points to the woman with his eyes and I listen to what she's saying while he excuses himself.

"That's good. I'm glad you feel happy. Now that you feel fine, we can talk about why you sometimes don't feel okay. We can help minimise that."

Azaan comes and sits behind me. He gently pushes a slice of apple in my mouth and I bite it in half, taking the rest in my hand.

"Tell him to not control me and I'll stay happy forever."

"That's not true. You stayed in your room for many months without me controlling you and you weren't happy."

"Because you didn't— I want to be with you but without these— ...? things. I don't want you to tell me when and what to eat. Nor do I want you to take my phone from me."

He stares at me. "You want me to let you kill yourself."

"He overreacts." I turn to the screen. "He's the one who needs therapy."

He pushes another slice of apple and I look at him.

"Tell him that I don't need food."

"That's a basic necessity. Everyone needs it." Of course. He has paid for her to tell me what he thinks is right.

"I don't." I argue.

"Why not?" She asks.

I wait and contemplate, "Because I've already had en— I just don't need it. It's my body. I know how to deal with it."

"Okay. Let her be, please Azaan."

She can see I'm right. She can see my body. I try to slouch a bit and hide how embarrassing it is.

I swallow my saliva before trying to get up but Azaan's hand pulls my waist closer.

Something makes me feel good about myself. I feel thinner when his arm circles around my waist. It feels smaller and so much better.

I'm going good.

"I'm tired." I whine to Azaan.

~~~

Right after fifteen exact minutes pass, I whisper, "You promised it would be fun but it wasn't. Liar. I'm going to take a bath."

"Not a cold one." He speaks firmly and I roll my eyes.

He doesn't let me go until I clearly tell him that I won't take a cold bath.

I fill the bath with warm water and berry bath blend.

While it gets ready, I check the suitcase for my laxative container but don't find it.

How would he pack them for me when he doesn't know about it?

Fuck. How do I arrange those?

I go outside and catch Azaan still talking to that woman in a low voice.

"But it wasn't of that party incident, she's still worried that I and my former secretary are having an affair. Thankfully, I didn't mention that horrible occurrence. I know it's hard to forget events like these but I hope she doesn't think a lot about it because she's already too stressed. (...) Yea, I think we need couple ther— I know. It's not the first nightmare she's had. A few months ago after having disappeared for around a week, she came and slipped into bed and curled around me because she had a 'stupid dream'. (...) I don't know. I think she was afraid I'd wake up? (...) She's been journaling her days at least for the past four months on Twitter. I— I know. I don't mind but I feel like she won't talk about it."

I walk inside.

I close the door and take my clothes off.

I slide inside the bathtub.

I'm all calm for the first thirty seconds, but what the fuck does Azaan think of himself.

I fucking love him but he? His feelings for me are like SRK's. Azaan knows what I feel and like just as much as SRK knows of my existence.

Zero.

Thank God he packed this bath blend bottle. At least he remembers this.

I think of all the things he said the other night. He remembers... some stuff. But not my favourite memories.

He doesn't even know what my favourite memories of us are.

A whole compilation of me just watching him speak, try to cook, walk, work, exercise, sweat, shower, laugh, hold me closer, sleep, even breathe; goes through my eyes.

Me, merely watching him, being himself.

My eyes flutter close and his words go through my head. Why can I not stop sleeping? He's tired of me.

I see something move on the corner of my eyes and look at the door to see Azaan coming in.

I'm about to shift back to those memories when I realise I'm naked and scream.

"OH MY GOD, AZAAN. LEAVE!" I look down at my body and see how well the bubbles are thankfully covering me.

"Sawera. I've seen more than that." He unbuckles his belt.

"Fuck no, don't. There's no other washroom here and I'm so not taking a shower with you after this. Only get in if you're okay with standing outside the washroom with your body drenched in this bubble bath and girlish scent you hated the last time we took a bath until I'm done taking a shower— Stop!"

He slides in the bathtub anyway.

"I don't like you."

"Remember how you made me watch Jab Tak Hai Jaan and told me that you wanted to sing that one song from it on our honeymoon? This is the time, Sawera. Your audience is right behind you. Whenever you're ready."

I wince at the memory. "Why do you only remember those cringe parts of me? Agh, I— you were right. You know, my friends always told me how bad of a singer I was but I never believed them because I thought they were jealous of me but after you told me that my voice is horrible I recorded myself and judged myself more critically and— I'm so fucking sorry you had to hear that chicken growling voice."

"Sawera," he chuckles, "you're the loveliest human I've ever known to exist," he kisses the crown of my head.

"I love you too, Azaan. If that's what you're trying to say."

This one line brings so many memories to make my heart ache.

"You've... said this after so lon—"

"—Fuck, Azaan. I wish you weren't so terrible and cared for me and noticed why and when everything started getting messy in my head— I tried... I hate that you think you know everything. That one time I slipped into your bed wasn't because of any nightmare. I curled in because you came in late and then I went out to talk to you because I had started to feel like shit in those days but you were in the study so I thought I'd talk to you later—"

"—You should have tried knocking once. I would have done anything to talk it out—"

"—No, you wouldn't. You're lying. You're lying to yourself. I tried— so many times. You ignored my calls, you ignored my messages, I couldn't talk to you in real life because you hate my stuttering—" I sob, "Right now you think that you would have because you're seeing the consequences of being such a douchebag. But you didn't even know you were being a douchebag all that time."

Fuck him for making me cry all the time.

"I sat on the sofa in the living room but then I drifted off because you took too long and then I woke up and you were in your room, sleeping. I didn't want to disturb your sleep. I know you worked hard all day. But I just— wanted to share how crappy my days were and you— didn't even have time in the morning. When I woke up you didn't even ask why I was there. You were wearing your tie and saw that I was awake and you kissed my forehead asking 'Nightmare?' and I didn't know what to do except to nod because the way you were picking your coat made me anxious and I hate when you hurry. I knew you had to leave.

You assume what you want to— You just... think of the easiest conclusion possible.

You do that all the time with me.

Fuck, we enjoyed so much in that one month, imagine how many memories we would have created had you not been so greedily obsessed about making your already huge company bigger.

IN THAT ONE MONTH YOU HAD ENOUGH TIME TO FIRE KYLIE! You weren't so busy. And I know I didn't tell you to fire her any day of that month but you should have. You should have fired her because I told you once, before, that I hate her— but you don't feel the way I feel. You don't understand— I cut off with all my male friends just for you. Why could you not do the same?"

"Sawera... She wasn't my—"

"SHE WAS YOUR EX FRIEND. YOU GUYS HAD FUCKING BREAKFAST IN A CAFÉ WHEN A MEETING GOT POSTPONED. YOU SHOULD HAVE REMINDED YOURSELF THAT YOU WERE HAVING BREAKFAST WITH A LADY THAT YOUR WIFE HATES."

I inhale a sharp breath and continue, "Don't blame me, Azaan. Please don't blame me. I'm done blaming myself, hating myself. It's not my mistake. None of this was my mistake. If you hate the way I look, it's not my mistake. You're free to divorce me. If you hate the way I cry, blame yourself for making me cry."

I turn to him, "I want to be with you, but I don't want to hate myself every second."

He looks at me thoughtfully for a while, then leans in to whisper, "Kiss me."

I wipe my tears and use the back of my hand to pull his head to me.

He softly wipes his thumb on my cheek to stop me and exhales right after I do. "How can I fix all of this?"

"Be precise. Why do you ha—l—love me?"

"Why do you love me?"

I open my mouth to answer but I realise that I'm going to say what he says everytime.

He nods, "Exactly."

"You seriously do?"

I shake my head at his nods,

"It's not worth it."

"It is. I have failed as a husband if you feel like you need to change yourself because I could not make you feel enough. I'm sorry, Sawera. How do we fix this?"

I move my neck back to its place and lean on his chest.

"I don't know."

~~~

I wear my warm clothing and he gets in even before I'm done wearing my socks.

I sit on the toilet after pushing the lid down and watch him take a quick shower.

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