Love and hate are the two edges of a sword. Both alone can slice someone off. But the point where they meet is the point that stabs the man. The pang of stab. The pang of love. To feel hate makes love worth all pain.

Aariz's shaking hands run through his hair. Selena's teary eyes flash in front of him. She must have not been crying just because of that. Maybe it is not as dramatic as he thought. Her text messages from last year's November flash in front of him.

Relax. He had replied to her dramatic words explaining how screwed she is in the gastrointestinal system comprehensive. To this, she had replied you don't relax in front of a house burning down to ashes.

Way with words! She has a way with words! The Instagram account. It was different. He recalls. What is she up to? Through the cracks in Selena's mask of joy, he can finally see her bare self. The complications hidden behind the subtle replies to serious questions and countering quirks to his rudeness.

He sits up. Why is he becoming so invested in her? She hates him to the moon and back. No, probably to Mars and beyond. And yet here he is. Is he getting over the fact that she is not his rival anymore? Was it just the orchestration of people? It must be. It has to be. She is not as bitter and venomous as he thought. She perhaps is the right combination of bittersweet. 

"Aariz?", Nuha whispers, removing her duvet from her face.

He jumps off the train of his thought running at the speed of a mile per hour, "Hmm..."

"What are you thinking?", she asks placing her mobile on the side table and sitting up.

"Nuha, have I not made peace with my past?", he tries to make out Nuha's shifting shadow in the dark.

She plops herself on his bed, "You tell me... Have you?  Can you go around the world with half sleeves T-shirts without the fear of anyone judging you if they see your patch?"

"I- Umm...", he is dumbfounded, "People can be rude you know."

"Really? Everyone in the family knows it and yet no one brings it up. Maybe you are hell bend on being positive that you don't allow any other emotions to flourish with you."

Aariz falls silent.

"Nooran is your only friend. You cut off your friend from The Gems School."

"They were toxic."

"And what about her? Isn't she? Triggering your past every time.", she switches the side table lamp on.

"She is.", he mumbles.

"Or is she?", she lets the silence settle between them for a good 2 minutes, "You never made new ones either."

"It takes time to understand people."

"You are not understanding them. You are judging them. Understanding requires communication.", she stands up, "She is right you haven't. Try to get rid of these pent-up emotions in you. Your heart is stained. You say you have healed but you are still that O level you, bruised by regrets and words of people."

With these words, she flicks the switch off and gets up to lay down to talk to Muzamil leaving Aariz to ponder upon her words. Despite the flick switching off the light spreading the jet darkness in the room he on the other hand can finally see the way out of his dark tunnel. The flick that ignites the heart, sets it blazing on fire. Aariz picks up his phone. Instagram. DMC page. The post is up. Tell your story. Motivate your schoolmates. He screenshots the post to save the details to apply for.

After an hour of effort in gathering all the information required and agreeing to provide the university name and the school name he sends the mail to the person in charge of the event. He goes to the account again and swipes left to see Selena's photo with the words, "representing DMC at United Arab Pakistani School"

He opens his Messenger and finds a dozen messages waiting for him to be read. Ignoring all of them he opens Nooran's. He has sent him a video of him skating around his block. He double-taps it.

"No plans to come for the mid-semester break?", he types half expecting him to be asleep.
The three dots tells him he is awake, "Naw"
"in summer Insha'Allah", he replies to which Nooran reacts with a blue heart as an official way to tell someone that they have been dismissed.

Aariz gets out of his bed and goes to the study. He slowly clicks the study lamp switch on and sits in the chair. Make peace. Huh? So be it.

The yellow lights from the corridor fall on Selena's face waking her up as her papa opens their room door, "Selena, you don't have college today?", an unofficial way to tell Selena to get her ass off the bed.

"Shit!", Selena jumps out of the bed and grabs her mobile to switch on the flashlight.

"Bismillah. Start your day in the name of Allah and you will find peace in everything.", her papa remarks before he walks away into the lounge to pray fajr Sunnah.

Selena rummages through her wardrobe to find a suitable outfit. She silently thanks her mom for pressuring her to press her coats on the weekend. She grabs her clothes and dashes into the bathroom. Although it's not a shower day, she still takes a shower because of all the sweating from yesterday. Dressing into her all-time favorite silk blue shirt and white pants, she wraps a white hijab on her head and dashes into the elevator struggling into the white coat on her way to the bus. Her sandwich that has been easily tucked between her teeth dares to slip out of her mouth. 

At university, the first lecture is pathology where the doctor starts the lecture by saying how the university has allocated so little time for leukemia which should be given at least a week to be talked about. Having said that she takes off flying through various classifications of Hodgkin lymphomas to wrap up leukemias and lymphomas with a small pop-up quiz from Amboss. She finishes right on time and the microbiology professor enters the room. The people in the first row shift to the last row because of her OCD since the start of covid.

Today is the revision for all the microbiology of CVS. The entire lecture room falls silent as she asks a question. Students stare at each other. Selena knows the answer. She knows. She knows it in her guts. But she is scared to answer. What if. Just what if it's wrong?

"Strep viridans?", she answers slowly. 

Yelin sitting beside her slaps her on the arm. "Speak up," she whispers before fixing her glasses and slipping them off her nose.

"Strep viridans," she speaks up.

"Braaaavooooo!" the doctor exclaimed "Ya gerlezzz, I told you before...", she clears her throat, "Strep viridans causes infective carditis. Dental procedures. You hear me? Normal flora of your mouth.", she speaks in broken English but everyone nods because they understand, "Tayyeb." (okay)

In the fifteen minutes break after micro, they move to the student lounge. A girl is sleeping on a sofa so they quietly sit on the other sofa perpendicular to it. Yelin places her laptop on the table in front of them.

"Okay fill me in.", she opens her pink lunch box and sanitizes her hand before sinking her teeth in the hotdog.

"I dunno...", Selena says, who has been trying her best to hide the surge of emotions she can feel bloom in her chest again. No hormones, no feelings. After she is done narrating everything that happened the girl who had been asleep wakes up.

"You clearly like him, gurl!", Maria says as she rubs her eyes.

"Don't say that.", she looks at Maria who giggles. Her cute laughter makes Selena and Yelin laugh too.

"Okay show me the guy.", Maria says. 

"He is okay...", Yelin replies, "He's tall, smart- khalas." (done)

As she scrolls in her gallery to show them his picture they peek in. She clicks on a photo. Last year. Eid. She remembers it all too well. A few minutes before everyone left. Nuha had taken a selfie with everyone poking their faces into it.

Selena's duchenne smile, Nuha's pout, Amelia's polite smile, Ihasan's smirk, Nooran's poker face, and then there is Aariz. Constipated. Dead serious. Famous in the family for his constipated face in every picture.

"Masha Allah...", Maria slams her hand on the emptiness of the sofa beside her still warm from her sleep. She giggles, "This dude has life goals. His life is organized to the last second before he dies."

"Yes!", Selena keeps her phone away.

"I like it, Picasso!", Maria smiles, "But...", she snaps her fingers, "why are you against these feelings?"

Selena sighs, "He hates me.", she picks up her phone to see the time, "with all the rivalry created by our parents between me and him. It's just not possible. Also, I don't want to have a future as just someone's wife."

The ocean of uncertainty is still keeping her afloat. She looks at the time. It's 9.45. They walk out of the lounge. The next few lectures pass in a blur. By the end of the day, she is completely drained out of energy. The last hour is practical. Physiology practical. Measure blood pressure with a manual sphygmomanometer.

---

Who named this machine sphygmomanometer?

So wordy!

Like why not blood pressure machine?
Or BP machine?

Or BP meter

What do you guys call it in your language?