It's not all Roses

Goose chase

Zaynab

I wake up with the same resolve that accompanied me throughout the night. I go through the monotonous morning routine. Asad and I don't talk much on our way to college, we both are preoccupied.

In my head, I keep debating with myself on whether I should tell him or not. The ride ends and I think that maybe for once I should just do what I planned.

As soon as I enter college premises, I brace myself for another batch of fresh stares. You'd think given my brilliantly hideous academic record, I'd be used to curious and judgemental looks from people here. But familiar discomfort finds its way to my facial expressions. I try to shove it back but it crawls back in the form of a grievous frown.

Walking past lecture halls, I invite a few more looks. But this people are used to, I hardly take the first lecture. Luckily, Asad is in batch A and I am in D, our labs are poles apart today. I jog my way to the corridor behind Pharmacology's lab, a place notorious for obvious reasons. Nobody comes here except for new couples for make out purposes and old ones for heated arguments.

Talha and I have guiltily eavesdropped on too many cliché romances here.
Today, however, I am met with a hushed stillness and the dusty stairway that leads up to a padlocked laboratory, rumors are that an unsupervised biochemistry experiment blew it off.

I adjust my glasses, an incessant habit I picked from Talha, and look around. Ayzah sits in the farthest corner, scribbling in her journal. I have a solid guess on what she must be writing in there.

"July 25: With my incredible wit and shrewdness I hunt down my ex, alongside his long faced hideous best friend!"

"Hey there," I say.
She startles and tries to hide her dear diary behind her sparkling overall.

"Hi," she breathes, "Let's go."

We rush to first floor and head straight for locker room. We shove our bags inside.

"You called the Uber?" I ask, trying hard to fix my oversized backpack in my already cramped locker.

"Yes, it's waiting," she says "are we really not taking Asad?"

"No," I say, "and frankly we don't have time to convince that bitch."

"Zaynab-"

"-Let's go."

We manage to get out of the college building without uttering another word to eachother. A silver corolla awaits us at the exit gate. Ayzah relaxes back as we get on the main road.

"Location?" I ask.

"Already entered," she says, "I'll get off at Thokar and you'll ride further to Kalma Chowk."

"You don't know which terminal is he in?"

"I only know he's going by Daewoo," she says, "I don't know which terminal is he taking."

"Can I ask now," I say ,"how'd you find out?"

"It was by accident."

"What do you mean?"

"I was in his room," she says, "and he wasn't there."

"Why were you in his room?"

"I was looking for him," she gulps, "We had an argument a day before, I wanted to apologise."

I have doubts regarding her version of the story but I don't say anything.

"And?"

"He wasn't there," she says, "and that's when his cell phone lit up with a notification about the ticket being confirmed."

"You went through his cell phone?"

"It was by accident, Zaynab. I just happened to look at the screen."

"Are you sure it was Lahore to Karachi?"

"I remember distinctly because I was confused."

"Why?"

"He doesn't know anyone from Karachi. No relatives, no friends."

"What if it was for someone we don't know?"

She turns to me with a deadpanned expression.

"Okay so a mere hunch?" I say.

"We don't have a choice."

"How much time we got?"

"We'll have 10 to 15 minutes when we reach there," she says.

I don't know what else to say. I sit back in my seat and wonder what will I say to Talha if he's actually there. Will I hug him? Or punch him?
Will he come with us? Or we will lose him once again?

***

Talha

Kalma Chowk Daewoo terminal is where I first notice that I don't have anything except a backpack. Sitting in its stuffy, dark interior is a lone water bottle. Right about now my cell phone is dead in a dumpster somewhere, probably lamenting my disloyalty. Sorry buddy.

I glance around and think how different it is to an airport. In my opinion, bus terminals have a certain sense of calm that airports lack. I have been here before but my privilege starts to surface the minute I enter. It's boiling in here. The air conditioning provides little solace. My sun burnt skin cracks, my lips are chapped and I have been in the same clothes for two days. I had spent a huge chunk of my time panicking and dreading instead of packing anything.

It's no use, these regrets. I can't afford doubts, no looking back, no homesickness, no u-turns. I got this ticket at the last minute, couldn't get one for yesterday. I wish I had because I spent the last 24 hours looking like a homeless drug addict.

I tell myself I have come this far, there should be no what-ifs.

But no matter what I tell myself, guilt slips in through every pore in my body.

I am leaving a life behind and a career!
What strikes me the most is not leaving my life long dream behind or the nostalgia for memories I have lived, but for ones I'll never get to live.

No more mama's handmade parathas on Sundays, her pestering me to marry Sameen, no more late night sneaking out with Hashim bhai , no more Abu's accidental calls during labs.

I won't see mama's retirement day, I will never meet the girl Bhai likes, I will never read Abu's final manuscript.

No more Asad's panic-driven study sessions, no more running around doing surveys on field trips, no more Ayzah snubbing us for bunking lectures, no more Proffessor Bhatti's tormenting lectures, no more hangouts, short attendance, no more college.

And then it hits me. No more...Zaynab.

I still have thirteen minutes left. You can't escape time here, there is a clock striking ten thirty five, a digital one just right to the mini cafe glowing the same numbers, announcements reverberating through the passengers halls, Lahore to Swat bus is leaving in exact five minutes, Lahore to Gujranwala bus is late an hour, passengers should be on board for Lahore to Rawalpindi.

People getting up from their seats, children running around making a racket, new couples arriving dreamily, teenagers trying to look cool, women with tired eyes, some in heavy makeup, a middle aged man argues at the ticket counter, he has missed his bus. A girl comes running, panting heavily. Apparently she has missed her bus too.

I have five minutes left now.

You can't escape time, anywhere.

I take one last look at the clock. About time.
Before I can get up, someone taps my shoulder.

***

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading this far guys! I lost the draft to this chapter and I had to write it again from scratch. Whew!

Do tell me what you think and don't forget to vote. :D