Koh-e-Noor

//• baarah •//

Trfftt!!

I walk upstairs. Ammi doesn't understand we are not friends anymore.

Where the fuck is Zain when he's needed? He keeps on talking big all the time but when there's an emergency he's never there.

I grimace, not ready to open the door. God knows what one can find.

It creaks open and I whine, super unready for tears.

I hate women so much.

Like okay, you can feel bad, but go punch someone why do you gotta cry?

"Khayaalon mein laakhon baatein
youn toh keh gayaa,
Bola kuchh naa tere saamne,"

I hear her low humming that stops when I walk in through the narrow opening and she sees me.

I close the door behind me, not wanting to let her hear the bullshit drama going on downstairs.

She walks to me and puts a finger on my chest after locking her dewy eyes with mine.

"Hue naa begaane bhi tum ho ke aur ke,
Dekho tum naa mere hi bane.

Afsos hota hai,
Dil bhi yeh rota hai,
Sapne sanjota hai,
Pagla hua. Soche yeh,
Hum the mile, tum se naa jaane kyun
Milon ke,—
you know,"

she goes back to sit on her desk.

"I'm always going to hate you the most?"

Agh, Zaira. I was starting to find you pretty, why do you open your mouth to talk?

"Even if I find worse peop—" she snorts a genuine cute laugh, "that's impossible. But no matter how much time goes by, no matter how many bad people I meet, you're always going to be the worst of them all. Because you have me caged. And you know, I'd try to tell you why I am the way I am, and I don't know maybe in your words try to gain sympathy. But you're so heartless... You just don't care, yaar. And I care a little too much. And what seems too devastating for me is too fun for you. And I wish I was you, how chill would life be? Except Astaghfirullah, God knows what your end is going to be like."

She looks at me with disappointment.

"Khair, Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah. I just pray no one ever comes too close to you. You're a piece of shit and no one's as strong as I am. Leave my room, Mr. Crappiest Hayat. Oh— no, before you leave let's hear your joke on how this is not my room, and how I would be the crappiest Hayat if only I were a Hayat or whatever shit you can come up with. These jokes are compulsory, aren't they?—"

I push the psycho's earphones in her ears and turn up the volume to the highest.

We both sit down in peace. I bought all the products she uses and none has the scent this room has.

I'd manipulate her into telling me the secret but she's rightfully emotional right now and she needs this time for herself.

And I'm in too much peace to think of using my brain anywhere other than attaining this calm.

What kind of magic does this exotic fruit mixed with a heating warmth smell have on me?

She starts humming again and I listen to her, awfully annoyed at how this scent is not going to be there once I leave next week.

I have the flights booked.

The next time I open my eyes, it's to watch her painting on the mirror with a lipstick.

Like a psychopath.

I truly, for a second, fear for my life.

I leave the room but the quarreling downstairs makes me roll my eyes and go back.