So... Is This The End?

Plans and Rejections

Fahim sighed. It was another rejection email. This time he really thought that he had nailed it. It had been already three rounds and everything was going good, or so he thought. The message was brief:

Dear Fahim,

It was great getting to know you and your skills. However, we're looking for a more experienced person for this position. So keep in touch and keep learning. We'll be happy to consider you when you've designed real apps that people actually download and use.

Best-

The HR Team

That said it all.

Fahim ran his palm through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. Just then out of the corner of his eye he noticed the reflection on his laptop screen. Someone had been standing behind him. Who else? "Nas, did you really have to creep up on me like that?" Fahim spun around in his chair and directly faced Nasreen who was holding two plates of steaming noodles. Nasreen shrugged and smiled sweetly, motioning at the noodles. Instantly Fahim felt himself go weak. Oh God, I lose again! He hurriedly cleared his table, literally swatting away the entangled mess of earphones, cellphone chargers and what not. Need room for the yummy noodles! Nasreen ran and plonked the two plates down on the little oasis that Fahim just cleared in his desert of electronic paraphernalia.

"Ouch, they're hot!" Nasreen sucked her fingertips which were burning now from the heat of the china plates.

"Ew! Bummer, you could have brought a tray!" Fahim yelled as he ran to the kitchen and came back with a cold water bottle from the fridge. "Here hold onto this. And stop sucking your fingers, yuck!" Nasreen simply obeyed. The burning sensation was too strong right now to spend energy on defending herself. "At least you could have called me," Fahim softened a little. He could never stand the fact that men didn't help out with cooking and other housework. Well, of course he knew that all men are not like that but he had yet to come across one. At least none of his friends or relatives were. So he had this rebellious urge inside him to help out Ayesha, his mother or Nasreen in household chores whenever he had time. "Better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Nasreen muttered. I just made a fool of myself. First the spying and now this! 

"No, thank you," Fahim smiled, "I'm really hungry. Didn't realize it." He checked the time on his phone. Still two hours to kill before the meeting. They started eating in silence, which seemed a bit awkward to both. Fahim cleared his throat, "So how much did you shoulder-surf? Not that I'm mad about it," he put a forkful of the noodles into his mouth. "You already got the punishment for that," he mumbled while chewing and then chuckled.

"Yeah, door open, laptop screen visible from the kitchen, and I get accused of playing spy!" Nasreen pouted. "Anyway, I'll get the ketchup." She was about to get up from the edge of the table.

"Wait, I got it," Fahim walked out again. Nasreen glanced at Fahim's laptop screen. A mesmerizing mathematical pattern of various geometrical shapes were constantly forming and breaking apart, Fahim's favourite screensaver. She lightly tapped the touchpad. Instantly the email window came back up. She actually hadn't been able to read the email. Just had noticed Fahim's reaction. Now she quickly skimmed through it and frowned. She had no idea what position Fahim had applied for in the first place.

"The fish has caught the bait. I knew it!" Fahim clapped. Nasreen jumped. But this time she didn't feel guilty anymore. She needed to talk to him. She felt her mind shift to big sister mode. Fahim noticed her frown and understood. They could read each other like an open book. "Before you think you need to talk to me, actually I need to talk to you!"