As I listened to her, I realized she loved talking to herself about me. The way she insulted me, no one had ever dared to do it.
And she was actually cursing me for not drinking her coffee? "Yeh kaisi zabar dasti hai Uns?" I asked myself.
I was li...
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Oh Allah, what a person he is! First, it was his eyes that captivated me, and now even his smile weakens me in his presence.
I should focus on driving, but I can't stop thinking about his mischievous smiles and intense stares. Why is your smile so irresistible, Nader?
Today, I realized he's the same person I saw two days ago. Was he waiting for me then? No, no, why will he be waiting. I shouldn't overthink this. He's just a stranger.
I reassured myself, but then I remembered the coffee incident. Why did he order two cups when he doesn't even like coffee?
He didn't take a single sip, wasting everything - milk, sugar, my coffee beans.
I can't believe I'm complaining about him to myself. Unbelievable Uns. But then his gentlemanly behavior made me reconsider him.
Pulling out the chair and even opening the car door for me - it's something I've only read about in books, but experiencing it in real life is...
Uns, stop it. Stop blushing over this. Don't be so delusional. At the very least, I can say he's not good for me. Yeah, it's best if our paths don't cross again. I reassured myself as I parked my car and entered my house.
The tomato-red color that had overtaken my face, recalling his gentlemanly gesture, vanished when I saw my father standing in front of me.
"Abbu," I called out softly and greeted him. He heard me but didn't respond, simply sitting on the couch and gesturing for me to join him.
I placed my bag on the side table and sat opposite him. Complete silence enveloped us-absolute silence, with neither of us speaking a word.
I contemplated initiating a conversation, but it felt like I had no words to say to him. Isn't it strange? Just an hour ago, I was conversing so freely with a stranger, and now I find myself speechless in front of my own father.
How did we grow so distant, Abbu? This sentence kept repeating in my mind, and I desperately wanted to ask him this question, but I couldn't.
"Have you seen what time it is, Uns?" These were the only words that came out of Abbu's cold voice.
I chuckled and asked him, "At least you know my name, Abbu. I thought you had forgotten about me."
"Uns," Abbu said my name with a bit of force, as if he was telling me to stay quiet.
I was yearning to hear my name from him, and finally, he called me today. A slight moistness started to fill my eyes just by hearing my own name from my father.
I don't want to cry, but it seems like my tears have no control over me. He continued speaking, asking me the same question:
"How can you come home this late, Uns? Do you have any idea how worried I was here?" Was he worried for me? Was Abbu waiting for me? I felt happy that he at least cared about me.
