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I excitedly jump around the apartment, supervising the servants that stuff Azaan and my clothes into the closets, the few decoration pieces I have just shopped on the adequate spots, Azaan's books in the -previously empty- library, and everything in it's place.

After a while, when I get tired, I tear the cardboard boxes that we used for packing and shifting, take a sharpie and draw on them until the servants stop moving around. I thank them and they leave taking the boxes.

I screech with delight as I journey around the cute little apartment.

I love small apartments. I hate big houses.

I love this.

Thank you, Azaan.

In these days, I'm slowly realising how much our creative taste matches.

I, somehow, -again- stumble on Pinterest for the twenty-fifth time today, and find more creative ideas to decorate the house. I stick onto it for a few hours till my friends videocall me. I show them the apartment and they appraise the strategic arrangement.

God, I love being alone in here. Without Azaan. He's annoying with the big bubble of silence and boredom he carries around. I wish I didn't stop him from going to Washington.

I walk to our room, where I love everything except for the library.

I brush my hands along the spines of all the business books he has. I have seen a few of them back at home, in papa's library.

Apart of this giant library, he has another mini library in the study room.

I groan. Nerd.

I walk around the house for the next thirty minutes, not getting bored of the good vibes spread all inside. I stop by the kitchen and open the cabinets, suddenly, wanting to cook something. More like wanting to bake. A cake? What does Azaan like?

I pick my phone to call him but dial Palwasha instead, reminding myself that he doesn't like calls from home unless they are urgent.

I abruptly stop, Palwasha was upset in the morning when she heard that we were moving out. She was upset with me.

I sigh at how exhaustive these responsibilities are, and moving my mind back, text Azaan.

Sawera: What's your favourite sweet dish?

Although I expect no reply, I wait for an hour, busying myself in watching TV. And surprisingly, Azaan texts back.

Azaan: Gaajar ka halwa.

Nevermind, I'm not making that.

Sawera: What about a chocolate cake?

He takes so long to answer. I text Neeti in the meanwhile.

Sawera: Tell your fucking PM to fix things with my PM so Blood of Bard or whatever the show was can get banned. I'm getting bored without SRK. My SRK substitute is not even replying to my messages.

I doze off waiting for him to answer. A series of wild dreams play in my head as I drool in my sleep. I blink out of my dreams in five minutes of slumber and look at the big black clock on the wall. 4:35PM. I sigh and sit cozily.


Oh my God! I slept for five minutes, how is this possible!?? I click on my phone and it shows the same time. God!

I read Azaan's message that came in fifteen minutes after I sent mine.

Azaan: Cool.

Green light for chocolate brownies, my mood changes.

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