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On my quest to get over Zunair, I forced myself to muster the courage and hang out with our mutual friend groups one day.
We all met up at a restaurant, and our friends passed the two of us wary glances every now and then. Because we weren't talking to each other. We were barely even looking at each other.
I caught him glancing at me a couple times from my peripheral vision, but I pretended to pay him no heed.
In reality, my stupid heart was pounding against my ribcage like it wanted nothing but to fly out.
Later, when we were playing truth or dare, the bottle spun towards me. I hesitated for a split second, thinking of the heart pounding in my chest as well as the fear climbing up my throat. I glanced very, very briefly at Zunair.
Then I said "Dare."
Umair, Zunair's best friend, thought for a moment before he said, "I dare you to give Zunair a very platonic hug."
I raised my eyes to him in utter shock. But more than shock there was anger hardening my features. I wanted to slap the stupid smile off his face.
Zunair interrupted my thoughts by hissing, "Umair. What the hell, man? Leave her alone."
Her. Not Sarah. Her. As if the past year had meant nothing. As if he didn't even think me worthy enough to say my name anymore.
A choking bitterness made its way to my lips, resulting in a very awkwardly timed laugh.
Everyone stared at me, and suddenly it became too much. I turned around and darted towards the bathroom, attempting to maintain my I don't give a crap facade until I hit the bathroom stall and my tears poured out like rain.
Why was it that I always felt more than the other party? Why was I always more overwhelming, more giving, more caring, just more, more, more? Too much, all at once.
And Zunair didn't even seem to care about me as much as I had always cared about him. Hell, he didn't even think me worthy enough to say my damn name after all we had been through together.
When I left the bathroom ten minutes later, not bothering to cover up the puffy redness of my eyes, Zunair trailed towards me with concern etched into his face. Umair was behind him, and immediately I knew Zunair had scolded his best friend and made him tag along to apologize to me.
I snorted. Loud.
"Sarah, are you alright? I'm sorry about Umair." Although his words seemed sympathetic, that's all they really were. Sympathy. Not empathy. He was only asking out of courtesy and out of the obligation of knowing me for so long.
