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My back was paining after sitting for hours on the computer, making those 30 slides presentations.

I looked at my phone. It's 2AM and I have to wake up at 6AM, I have five... four? I counted on my fingers; two, three, four, five, six... How is that five? Wasn't six minus two supposed to be four?

Damn. I looked at the enormous black wall clock hanging on the white walls of my bedroom. Two to three makes one, three to four makes two, four to five makes three, five to six makes four... That's four? Why did I count five?

I counted on my fingers again; two, three, four, five, six... THAT'S FIVE WHAT THE FUCK.

Math is useless, so are these presentations. What does Azaan pay me for sitting five hours straight on the computer? Isn't his business big? Why can't that stingy man get his company a presentation maker?

Omygod he's STINGY! Got to ask for his debit card right on the first night.

Five or four hours left to sleep, I should go to bed before I get dark circles under my eyes.

I turned the lights off and went to bed.

I closed my eyes trying to sleep but my parents started shouting way too loudly. Ugh I'm so freaking tired of them fighting all the time.

I took off my duvet and walked across the marbled floor down the stairs into the living room.

"Larrna band karein!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, losing the voice in my throat. "Bas karein! Tang aa gayi hoon main iss roz roz ki larraayi se, aap joh keh rahe hain kar rahi hoon naa papa? Badle mein bas do hafte ke liye hi, larrna band kar dein, iss ke baad main aap se kuchh nahin maangoon gi." I said as if he has given me anything I've ever asked for.

"Sawera-"

"-Subbhaah ke do baj gaye hain, nau bajey itne dour office jaana hai iss ne tumhaari wajaah se lekin tummhain iss ki koyi fiqr ho toh tum yeh cheekhna chillaana band karo na." Mama cut off papa. "Sawera meri jaan, jaao jaa ke so jaao." Mama wiped her tears and kissed my forehead.

I glared at papa and went to my room, he always does this. He doesn't care about any of us and he keeps fighting with mama all the time.

My parents have never had a normal relationship, all my childhood went by them fighting all the time.

I know it's all because of me, my father never wanted a daughter, and I won't blame him for that. Pakistan's mentality has changed a lot in the last 20 years but in his time, raising a daughter was equal to raising
a burden.

I'm totally fine with the fact that he doesn't love me as much as he loves bhai, -he doesn't give his time to any of us anyways- but what hurts me is the way he treats mama. She's his wife, and if not his wife then he should at least respect the mother of his heir.

A typical night in my life.

I went to sleep.

—  A Z A A N  —

I twisted the first row of the rubik's cube clockwise, then placed the white corner onto its place, I rolled the rubik's cube to see what colour was left and once again I realised how hard making these 5x5 rubik's cube is.

I started from the beginning, tilting the cube and shifting the completed row downwards then making a cross with the blue one and-

"-Tum khel rahe ho?" I looked up to see Sawera in front of me.

"Get out and knock on the door." I halted slouching on the backrest and sat up rigidly.

She slowly rolled her eyes, "Yaaaaarr-"

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