f i f t e e n

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[Check out the previous chapter if you haven't.
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Slowly, weeks pass and I start living in my room since Azaan doesn't even care about me anymore.

I think he's using the excuse that he's upset at the way I left that day but the truth is, he was just always searching for an excuse to stay away from me. And there is an obvious reason.

I stalk Kylie almost every day on Instagram. She is beautiful. I hate exercising so I've printed her pictures and I dramatically look at her everyday to 'motivate' myself. It sometimes works. Somedays I feel like I'm getting there.

Azaan will someday find me better than her. If I become all of what Kylie is and above it all, the bonus points of being his parents choice, there's no way Azaan won't fall in love with me.

Other days I get frustrated and don't even get out of bed because I feel so hopeless.

What if I never get that figure? I don't see any improvements in my body. And even if I get nearly there, how will I become as smart as she is?

On one of the hopeless days, I notice that it's been two weeks since Azaan smiled to me.

And I know it's my mistake.

He is a typical Pakistani man who wants emotional support when his family is flooding in ghum (which means all the time, because desi families never get rid of ghum) and I left him alone.

Without even explaining.

That's not how fussy a Pakistani wife should be.

I'm completely aware that I won't get him to start loving me, but maybe an apology will win me a smile? Even if it's a forced one? I light some hope.

I hop to the study and knock on the door. He's on a call. I enter and he glances up at me.

I sit down on the chair in front of him and when he cuts the call, I try to start. "Azaan, you know, um, you don't know what happened that day." I say. "At your house. I didn't want to leave, but-"

"But?" He cuts me. Indirectly telling me to spit it out faster because he has no time for my ums and uhs.

I pull a ball from his desk and mold it. "Um, I don't like the way bhabhi speaks. I mean, I don't think she chooses the right wo-" I'm saying when he tsks and I look up from the ball.

"-Sawera, I have a lot of work to finish." He makes eye contact after pushing his files away. "It's too late, it'd be better for you to go sleep." He says.

"Yeah, okay. But listen to the whole thing." I know he thinks I'm not going to explain the entire problem and I'll just say what I say every time; this makes me uncomfortable. And I think the same but maybe he should let me try.

"Will you tell me the problem you have with pregnancy or do you want to go to a mental health professional?" He asks and I don't understand neither the hurry nor the rudeness.

Is he calling me a psychopath? I try not to show the anger that soon starts boiling inside of me and continue, "Bhabhi wasn't the main problem, Azaan. Your m-"

"-We can only talk after you tell me your problem." He says, indirectly telling me to go to hell because he is not interested in talking to me.

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