Chapter 1✔

"Don't worry Ammi, I have packed everything. Yes, I will call you as soon as I land in Islamabad. Do not worry. Khuda hafiz." Zoya told her anxious mother as she disconnected the call and headed for the ticket counter. One thing that Zoya had inherited from her mother was an over anxious brain. The brain that goes 'did I lock the main door' the moment she lies in the bed, the brain that makes her check the car doors twice after locking her car and leaving it in the parking lot.

Alizey, had to get married in Islamabad out of all the places. Could she not go for the beach wedding and well Karachi? On the top of that, they wedding dates (the milad and all additional function dates) were messed up that Zoya had to fly in. Did Alizey not know that Zoya hated planes? That she was a nervous flyer. Of course, she did. If Alizey wasn't her best friend, Zoya would have considered that stunt a mutiny. The trouble was that she could not ditch the wedding. Firstly, because that would make her a sucker friend. Secondly because there was no plausible excuse for it. It was her last working day at university. People were having winter break so she couldn't go with her usual excuse, "Sorry Alizey, I am working". Just her luck. Cursing Alizey for being an insensitive, forgetful friend Zoya dragged her suitcase as she headed for the ticket counter.

"Hello Mam. Where are you flying today?" the agent who was wearing a white uniform with a fake smile plastered on his face asked Zoya. "Islamabad". Zoya replied with a genuine smile. People who smile when making a conversation were such a delight. They always made her at ease and relieved her from the social anxiety. After a minute of typing and going through the computer, the agent this time with a kind smile returned her e-ticket which Alizey had booked. "Here you go, Mam. Just a minute." he said.

Zoya nervously tapped on the counter as the agent typed some more. How much she would prefer to go by rail or bus, but right now she was short on time. "THANK YOU, ALIZEY," she thought. Zoya had checked the weather updates for Islamabad thrice since she had gotten to the airport, and she knew that it was going to be cloudy in Islamabad. It might even rain, and the information was making her super nervous. Could she just run back home now and lie that she had missed her flight? "Way too mature Zoya", her alter ego taunted.

"Your plane boards in 30 minutes, Miss Zoya Hussain." The clerk replied as he handed her the boarding pass. Thanking him, Zoya made her way to the waiting area. Sitting in the corner seat she looked around at the people who we were already seated there. Observing people and coming up with their stories was her favorite past time.

Infront of her, sat a couple who had was blessed with two boys. The wife was hovering around the 5-year-old, while the toddler in the husband's arms was crying. Zoya was sympathizing with the lady who was running around chasing after her child, but was also glad that the husband was helping instead of sitting idle like a typical Pakistani father who does 'nothing'. Zoya smiled at the lady, who now had gotten her hands on her devil of a child and was pulling him towards the seat, done with his shit. The little devil realized that she was looking and stuck out his tongue at Zoya.

Zoya would have ignored it if she wasn't a nervous wreck or bored. But since she was both and what was a better way to get her mind out of the fear, than being childish. She made a scary face in return shocking the kid, who just looked at her as if she had grown a tail. Satisfied with reaction she got, Zoya raised her eyebrows in a 'you-didn't-see-that-coming' expression. To give the devil some credit, he recovered from initial shock and pulled the corner of his mouth with both hands as he stuck out his tongue. His eyes screaming "beat-that".

'Game on honey', Zoya thought as she made the best evilest children scaring face she could. In return all she got was a shriek which turned into a cry. It would have felt like a victory, if his mother wasn't giving her the death glare. Could Zoya blame the mother? NO! Her toddler had just finished crying and now her 5-year-old was crying all thanks to her.

Everyone was looking at her with the 'are you kidding me?' question evident in the eyes. To make it worse, the toddler too joined his 5-year-old devil brother. Bad luck bad luck bad luck Zoya thought as she waited for the floor to open. Allowing her to sink in it, saving herself from the stares she was getting. None of that happened, to her utter disappointment. What would she give to die right now? Anything.

"This is the final boarding call for passengers: Irtaza Haider and Zoya Hussain, who are booked on flight PK372 to Islamabad. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Irtaza Haider and Zoya Hussain. Thank you." The announcement and her name being called brought her back.

Was she so lost that she nearly missed her flight? What a shame. Grabbing her suitcase, Zoya rushed to the boarding gate glancing apologetically at the couple who were now busy trying to get their children to calm down. Nearly after 10 steps from the waiting longue, Zoya halted. She felt guilty for leaving the couple in such a mess, which was indirectly her doing. She hoped that the other guy whose name she didn't get because she was busy fretting, would take little longer to board. Just so that she can make it in time.

Zoya rushed back to the couple whose harmony she had not so intentionally disturbed. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare your child. I thought it was a plaything, but he burst into tears. I am not implying that it's his fault. Here's a chocolate as a compensation. I am really sorry." Zoya said as she dug through her handbag and handed the little devil a chocolate.

Zoya had to voice that she wasn't implying that the devil was the one to blame because the husband was clearly pissed, grim lines had appeared on his forehead in a silent warning. Zoya took warning very seriously. The little devil sobered up as soon as he got a chocolate. Running back to her trolley bag, Zoya rushed to the boarding gate, silently hoping to miss her flight.

To say Zoya was disappointed to make it in time would not be completely false. She had an aisle seat, and the other passenger was already seated when she got there. Thanking the flight attendant who helped her with her carry on, Zoya finally got in her seat.

The man in the seat next to her hadn't even looked up yet. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with that kill for denim jacket which had fur on the collar and probably inside it. Her fellow passenger had a newspaper covering his face. As he turned the newspaper Zoya caught a glimpse of his dark eyes, stubble; a deep frown etched on his forehead. Zoya loved that denim jacket. She couldn't say the same about the man who hadn't been polite enough to greet or reply to her greetings.

Rude much? What does he think of himself? Should I educate him that we say, 'Wa Alaykum As-salam' when someone says 'As-Salam Alaykum'.

Why should I educate him? I am not his mother. His loss!

Also did it ever occur to you that he might not be Muslim......

Settling in her seat, Zoya observed him some more. Don't we all do that when someone is being excessively rude? No, we don't. Normal people ignore, Zoya wasn't normal people. He was wearing the caterpillar boots, and he was so engulfed in that newspaper as if it contained the secrets of worlds. Maybe it was an attempt to avoid her. As if she was dying to make an acquaintance out of him. Giving him a disapproving look Zoya looked around and focused her attention on the couple who were seated beside her. By the blush that crept on woman's face as the man sitting beside her laced her fingers through his, Zoya could tell that they were newlyweds, and they were going on a honeymoon.

Yes, Zoe study people around you and you'd miss the taking off. Her brain encouraged. But the minute, the T word crossed her mind, she began sweating.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight PK372 with service from Karachi to Islamabad. We are currently third in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately seven minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing PIA. Enjoy your flight." The announcement made her more nervous.

Why did Alizey choose PIA? PIA which held records for crash landing and crashes. What if khuda na khusata (God forbid) they crashed into the Margalla's. I am not scared. I am not scared. I am just. I am just.... frightened. No, actually I am a nervous flyer. It's not a big deal. Everyone gets nervous about one thing or the other. Don't we all get nervous when flying?" Zoya asked herself.

" No? Not everyone gets nervous." Said a steel hard dry voice which had a 'stop-being-a-child' undertone to it. With his hand in the air, the rude fellow on her left gestured towards the 7-year-old kid who was all smiles in his seat in-front of them. His other hand was cradling airpods, and realization dawned on her.

Maybe the guy hadn't heard my Salam. But like he hadn't heard her Salam could he not unlisten her thought out loud words? And if he had heard them, did he have to comment!

GIRL! HE just insulted you. FOCUS!

Zoya didn't care about how he had just insulted her, even though she was told to by her alter ego. She instead focused on the toddler who was clapping. We all have heard the poem "If you are happy and you know it clap your hands?" the kid was practicing it.

Okay kid I know you are excited, but this is no time to clap. Please sit down. You'd know it when you are older.

DON'T GET NERVOUS. FOCUS. FOCUS ON ANYTHING. THE RUDE STRANGER.

Directing her thoughts towards the stranger, Zoya observed that he had that accent which usually belonged to the rich kid who first went to Beacon House for Olevel's and then abroad for further studies. In plain English his accent was British enough to confuse her, if only she hadn't herself went to the Lahore Grammar School. Thank you, Baba, for sending me to LGS. Zoya thought. She was being her judgmental self-looking too much into a situation against her new year resolution, which wasn't so new mainly because she had that same resolution since last 3 years.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I am just a nervous flyer." Zoya rambled as she looked at the source of that voice only to encounter the most beautiful face she had ever seen. Dark bushy eyebrows were framing his black eyes. Those black eyes which Zoya was finding alluring, gave her a "you-annoying-brat" glare as he turned back to looking out the window. His black hair were outgrown and needed a trim as they were reaching his left eyebrow. Zoya wondered if they blurred his vision sometimes. His mouth was perfect, no imbalanced lips. His lower and upper lip were nearly of same proportion unlike her where her lower lip was larger than her upper one, all thanks to her biting it when she got nervous.

You know that is not the reason. You were born with a bigger lower lip, and it has got nothing to do with you biting them.

Still Zoya like to blame that imperfection of her on herself rather than accepting the fact that it was God gifted. Zoya wasn't aware of this imperfection of hers until Alizey had not so politely pointed that out when she was applying lip color. Since that day onwards, whenever Zoya looked at herself in the mirror and then looked at her lips, her eyes lingered on them. And then she would laugh remembering Alizey's words.

The airplane making sounds was now making a tight knot of fear in Zoya's stomach.

It's about to take off. Please don't crash please. Please. Please.

She closed her eyes and began counting, something she usually did to calm her nerves. She lost it at 389 as the plane made those thundering sound it makes when the wheels lose contact with the runway. Every tiny sound made her lose her breath.

After the worst five minutes of her life, the plane was airborne and Zoya tried to breathe normally as relief washed over her. Only landing is left now, you haven't puked yet nor have you cried or shouted embarrassing yourself like you could have. Bravo Zoya you did it. Zoya encouraged herself. She had to do it herself since the man sitting beside her wouldn't. If their roles were switched, she would help him. Not because he was the most handsome man, she had laid eyes on considering she had seen a lot of handsome men in the university. Maybe 5 percent due to his handsome ness. But only 5%, the rest because she had exceptionally good manners and was empathetic.

Fifteen more minutes and we'll land. Just 15 more minutes. Fifteen minutes only!

Zoya pacified herself. She had been doing it since the take off. She had spent an hour and 45 minutes, mostly fretting and then thinking about the rude jerk beside her who had given her nothing except cold disgusted glares.

Does it cost people to be kind? Why are the handsome jerks so, so ungentlemanly and rude? Where are all the nice guys? She wanted to ask but kept her mouth zip tight. For she didn't want to receive a smoldering gaze which could freeze the hell.

The guy beside her minded his business throughout the flight, not uttering a word of kindness to her or any word at all, giving her look of disapproval every now and then. Twice she thought her dupatta was misplaced or that her camisole was showing, thanks to his glare. He made her feel like she had stepped on his freshly polished shoes or puked on him which thankfully she hadn't.

She couldn't say time passed in a blink because she had glanced at her wristwatch every 3 minutes. Something she did when she was anxious and wanted something to be over. Like the Pakistan Studies class in 7th grade, which was more of a make fun of Zoya and company. She never knew what was wrong with Miss Syra or why she hated Zoya's friends and her. What Zoya did know was that Miss Syra had once complained to her mother that she kept glancing at her wristwatch throughout the lesson, as if Zoya wanted Miss Syra 'out of there'. When her mother had informed her, Zoya wanted to shout, "If only she'd take the hint." But hadn't because her father was glaring at her with a disappointed look on his face. As the memory dissolved in her mind, she smiled.

To give herself some credit, Zoya hadn't turned out to be a frustrated teacher. Well, she was frustrated and most of all done with all the lemons of her life, but she never took that frustration out on her pupil like some teacher did. Nor she was a teacher, who publicly embarrassed her students to even the score (for whatever messed up reasons). She knew, whatever the teachers said stuck with the child for a lifetime. At least it had stayed with her. And she didn't want to scar her pupil like she was.

The Big-Bang-Theory which was playing on the screen hadn't been able to distract her despite it been her favorite show.

Maybe I should start counting. Fifteen minutes are like what?

After doing the mental math's which she was great at, she came up with the answer.900 Just start with 1001 and go to 1900 and we will be in Islamabad before I know it. Zoya told herself as she began counting. The more they were getting closer to the landing the more nervous Zoya was getting.

'1356' Zoya said as her head jerked up. Was that a bump? Did they hit? Her anxious brain asked questions. DONT PANIC ZOYA.GO back to your counting. Zoya told herself. But thanks to her anxiety she forgot where she was. Was it 1459? Zoya was still trying to get a grip of the number and herself when the plane began experiencing turbulence. "You can panic now" Her alter ego screamed. Zoya didn't need to be told twice, she was panicking already. Losing her calm.

Oh God, Oh God. We are falling. I am going to die. No! No!

She hadn't imagined dying like this. But then, who dreams of dying. And what does it matter if it wasn't the ideal heart failure? She was dying and she had no one around her who cared enough. No goodbye for her. Hell, when few hours earlier she wanted to die after embarrassing herself. She hadn't. Not that she had completely overcome that incident they were crashing down. HOW INCONVINENT IS DEATH? She thought with a sudden surge of anger which was overpowered by the anxiety and the fear of dying.

"Think positive Zoya. Na-umeedi kufar hai. (Hopelessness is disbelieving.)" She told herself, but all the positivity went out the door when the captain made the announcement.

"'We're currently hitting some clear-air turbulence, and things may be unsteady for a while. I have switched on the seatbelt signs and would ask that you all return to your seats and get your seatbelts on. As you must be aware by now, we're having some difficulties in controlling the plane due to the cloudy weather. We're attempting an emergency landing in Islamabad. We'll be landing in approximately six minutes. We've got about as much control over the plane as we can get. Please review your emergency procedures. We will do everything in our power to get everyone to the ground, but we need your cooperation." The pilot who sounded confident when he had introduced him in the beginning, had told them it was going to be safe flight now sounded stressed. Maybe it was time to panic.

They were actually going to die. It was a bad dream. It was not even good enough to be classified as a dream minus the handsome stranger, who in the dream would have been gentlemen experiencing a love-at-first-sight with HER! It was a nightmare, alright. A highway to hell. Why? Why? Zoya thought as she lost the last ounce of resolve she had in herself.

Zoya looked around to gauge the expressions and the sentiments of the fellow passengers because the man sitting beside her was expressionless as a robot. The kid, who was clapping initially at the take off now sat clutched to his mother's chest. Not so happy are you now? I got this new jingle. If you are dying and you know it, recite your Kalma! She wanted to shout at the kid or at the stranger who had told her everyone wasn't afraid. Guess what? Everyone was.

I am going to die. I am going to die alone and be miserable. Ya Alllah. Abhi mainay dekha he kya hai duniya main. (What have I seen in this world) She repeated the mantra in her head.

"Please keep calm and don't panic." the captain was saying. "We will be ..." But Zoya couldn't process anything. Keep calm? Zoya couldn't breathe, let alone keep calm. What were they going to do? Were they all supposed to just sit and what recite Kalma-e-Shahadat while the plane bucked like an out-of-control elephant that got bit by an ant in his trunk?

Zoya could hear the people shouting, thankfully she wasn't one of them. For now! The lights were flashing on and off, the flight attendants were all strapped to their seats. Everything was a mess and in complete turmoil except the guy beside her. Who was sitting there as if, everything was normal? Was he normal? Didn't seem like it.

"We are going to die. Ammi abbu I love you. Please, don't cry. Actually, cry a little so I know that you miss me. But how am I going to know that you cried? My eyes are going to be closed. Will there be any eyes left after the crash?" Zoya thought out loud once again overwhelmed with the fear.

"I am sorry.... (Can you be a little mature?)" said the same dry voice. But Zoya didn't get the last part of his sentence. How is this guy so calm? Zoya wondered but she had so much stuff on her mind that he wasn't a distraction enough. The plane descended down and Zoya thought, 'this is it' as she closed her eyes in anticipation. Only to peek through them at the calm face which was staring at her.

Suddenly it occurred to her that his was the last face that she was going to see. The last person who was going to see her alive. And she was slightly glad that the last sight she saw was going to be a pleasant, eye pleasing one. She took in the dark eyes, strong jaw, high cheekbones which were covered in stubble. Sadly, she won't even get to live to tell her friends about this handsome stranger.

Life is a cruel joke.

The plane made one of those grunted sounds, the sound your grandfather's old Margalla makes when you try to start the engine and instinctively the stranger grabbed hold of his arm-seat. If she wasn't scared out of her wits, she would have cocked an eyebrow in a "daar lag raha hai na abb" expression. (are you scared now?) but she was too freaked out for any of this. "We are going to die" Zoya mumbled again, only to get contradicted this time.

"I don't think we're going to die," he told her. His voice was still calm and serene. Was he telling her this for her sake, or was he telling it to himself so that he could keep the calm façade on? Zoya didn't knew and she didn't care. But the reassurance was a music to her ears. Things your heart wants to hear and then does. Wants to believe but then decides against believing them.

"The pilot said it was just slight turbulence—"he began to explain but Zoya cut him off, she was in no mood for false hope and justifications.

"Of course, he did!" She told him. Her voice laced with the hysteria. "They wouldn't exactly say, "Bye Amigos. You're all going to be Shaheeds! Now is the time to recite Kalma-e-Shahadat " Zoya gave him her 'are-you-for-real' look while the gasps of the fellow passengers echoed through the plane.

The plane had another terrifying swoop downwards and Zoya found herself clutching the man's arm in panic. Realizing the error, she withdrew immediately. Astagfarillah, I am grabbing some na mahram arm. Is this going to be the last sin? Tauba, Tauba. Astagirfullah.

"We're not going to make it. I know we're not. This is it. I'm twenty-six years old, for God's sake. I'm not ready. But then no one is. I haven't achieved anything. Maybe I did but it's nothing compared to my overachieving family and friends. I am not even married. And being married is considered an achievement here. God, I have not even dated. All my friends had boyfriends while I just sat around waiting for the 'One'. Hell should have gone out with Abdullah, who was so into me. He was nice and cute and wrote me poetry, but he was like 3 inches short. I am not this picky, but you see 1 or 2 inches is okay. At 3, I draw a line.......' Zoya rambled. She was going to die. She was numb with terror and had lost all her sanity.

The handsome stranger sitting beside her gaped at her with his eyebrows climbing up to his forehead as the strangest, weirdest, stupidest confessions kept coming out of her mouth. Like the lava from an erupting volcano.

"What... are you?" He said as he blinked at her in confusion. Was it because he couldn't believe if she was real? Or did he blinked in a way to comfort her? Or was it because he thought she was making all this up? Zoya was too overstrung to care, but who lies before dying.

"I don't even have children. Who is going to recite my fatheha? Well, I think you already did deduce that, since I told you I am not married. God, I haven't even fallen in love yet. Apart from celebrity and he-held-door-for-me kind of crushes."

The guy sitting beside her gave her weird expressions which weren't weird enough to discourage her. Actually, they were but she wasn't ready to be discouraged. 'He probably thinks I hit my head hard on the seat while the plane dropped. Maybe I have'. Zoya thought.

"I am sorry. I am not myself right now and you don't want to hear all this unnecessary extra information that is slipping out of my mouth." Zoya told him as she looked at the floor of the plane and exhaled trying to get hold of her nerves. But failed miserably.

'That's damn right,' replied the handsome rude cucumber man.

Flustered, Zoya pushed the hair off her face which would have been secured in a braid if she hadn't pulled her hair in frustration. Trying to get a hold of herself, she began counting again, putting a hand on her mouth just in case her mouth decided to have a brain of its own. If only her mouth came with a separate brain which could process and filter all the unnecessary shit that went out, her life would have been a little too easier.

88 ...89...90....91....92.

Her counting got interrupted again as the plane lunched again but this time they went up.

Ya Allah Madad! Ya Allah Madad. She pleaded.

'What is Meow, my cat going to think when I die? He won't even know I died. Actually, my cat is a female, but we refer to her as a he because when we got him, we thought it was him. It's kind of confusing but we refer to her as him.' She said as she looked at him. The words were spilling out of her again. The mention of her Himaliyun furball, put a smile on her face.

'I am so unlucky that if a black cat crosses my path, I am going to be unlucky for her. I think all of this is also happening because of me. My umbrella doesn't open on a rainy day, my chapal breaks in the middle of university, someone overhears me when I am being a bitch. I am not the bitchy kind but when I am it's just a horror story. In my defense I do feel bad after being excessively mean or being a bitch...... " Zoya couldn't stop talking. She was a banshee on lose.

Every time the plane bumped or jolted; an avalanche of secrets poured out of her mouth. Her mouth was overflowing with unnecessary shit, like manholes in Karachi in the times of rainfall.

It was either talk or scream the life out of her lungs. Talking seemed like a better respectable option at that time, although the guy seemed least interested. Zoya had a feeling that she was going to regret that later. But the real question was, 'Was she going to live long enough to regret it? ' NO! So why not continue with babbling her deepest stupidest secrets.

'.... I am going to this wedding which I totally wanted to avoid because I am like the ugliest underachiever of the squad. Even though I love weddings and all. Thanks to Kabhi Kushi Kabhi gham and the your-watch-stucks-in-my-dupatta moments I dream about..." Zoya told him dreamily, as she got carried away. God how she wanted that to happen. Sighs

"......It has never happened abhi tak (till now) thanks to men, who don't wear wrists watches anymore. And instead go for bracelets. Ajeeb (Strange)" Her face turned in disapproval while the guy just stared at her silently listening to her outpour of personal information. Her gaze fell on the Rolex in his hand, and she blushed.

Where is my filter? Why am I telling this unnecessary information to this stranger? Why am I forgetting how mean he was to me? Zoya's sanity asked but she had no answer for the sane part of her which wasn't ready to accept the situation they were in.

"Alizey's mom had this antique china pottery which was given to her by her grandmother or something like that, my clumsy self-broke that into pieces when I was visiting for her brother's wedding. She thought that it was a maid. I look at Aunty and feel guilty for it. And then there is a lot more stuff that I broke which includes, Madam Shagufta's aka Buttercup, cactus pot. My dupatta got stuck in it and I pulled. It tore my dupatta and well the pot broke. Buttercup, ugh I have this habbit on giving nicknames to people. So, Buttercup is an instructor at the university where I teach Programming Fundamentals to freshies. " Zoya looked at the cucumber guy who now had his eyebrows raised in amazement.

"I get that look alot. I am a little immature to be a teacher, right? But I am good at it. My pupil loves me. Not in the 'love' love kinda way but the respect kind of love. But then we don't really know what they are hiding in their hearts. Back benchers are nightmares though."

"...I hate it when someone orders say prawns or whatever seafood they like and then steal nuggets and fries from my kid's meal. It takes all of my self-control, in not slamming the fork in their hand. Like if you want to eat fries order fries, stop stealing mine like they are extra and yours. And because its seafood I can't return their favor of stealing food from other's plates. It is different when I am offering. Then you can take but even then, I am hoping that you won't. My mother thinks that I am a little too immature for my age. As in my mental age is 5 years less than my physical age, maybe she is right."

"I lie a lot. But not the 'lies' lies. More of a "it tastes great." "You look perfect" "no you aren't fat" kind of lies. Do you think that because of them I am going to Jahanum straight from here? " The cucumber guy just shrugged as he replied with a "I don't know," but his eyes glittered with a "Yes, you are".

"I even lied to Alizey about the Harry Potter movie I didn't watch. I hate it. I don't like it all probably because of Ron. Ironic because I am a lot like Ron. I can watch Mission Impossible or any action movie on repeat. But Harry potter is a big 'NO'. And I just don't like all the intellectual stuff. I bought Rumi's collection, but I haven't read them. I pretend that I did but I haven't. In my defense I didn't want to come out as the ignorant one when my friends were like discussing spirituality and all. I don't get all the charkras and the third eye stuff my friend Kainat is in. Being a good friend, I do support her and her page and her YouTube channel but I just fast forward for a view and comment on it after googling."

"... People think I am such a kid because I ask for cone in plastic cup. I get "the look". It's not my fault that my teeth are sensitive and the cone melts in my face, and the drips down my hand creating a mess. And after that stupid request I go and ask for extra chocolate chips on it. And the vendor just stares but still complies. Is it wrong to ask for extra chocolate chips? I hate jelly so instead I ask for chocolate chips. Cookie Monster with extra chocolate chips is just yummm......"

".... Imagine dragons just make me cry. Just say

'Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year

And terrors don't prey on

Innocent victim' and I'd cry because damn it, it always is a difficult year for me."

".... Alizey thinks I flirt alot. Like I flatter my eyes and go all red and smile and stuff but it's not intentional. I have no control over it. And then the guy thinks I am into them. When I am not. This one time this guy asked me whether I crushed on him, and I went "Noooo it was Alizey. Why would I crush on you?" Alizey didn't talk to me for like a month for spilling that secret. Khair, I lead people on without knowing it and then feel bad for breaking their hearts. We can blame it all on me being Libra. And umm I crush on people a lot. A new crush every day. Alizey and I have this code. When she wants to introduce me to a potential crush material she blinks "three times and then say a sentence which had the word" 'Daddy' in it."

"...............Haris, Alizey's cousin makes my skin crawl. And I can't just politely avoid him because he is her family. So, one time while he was staring at me like I was his business, I ran a finger in my nose to gross him. God it was the most embarrassing stuff that I did up till now. But he still didn't get, you know grossed out. I washed my fingers hundred times after that. "

"Just because sometimes I say what's on my mind people consider me to be dumb. When they are the ones who are actually dumb. Just because I am more of a "I think" instead of a "I know" does it makes me dumb? No! It's actually the other way round. Haina??"

" I hate responsibilities. They make me anxious, my palms sweat, and it's just makes me nervous. Even if the responsibility is as small as preparing a plate of food for someone. My mind gets bombarded with questions like "a leg piece or a boneless piece? Is it too much rice? Did I pour too much oil when going for the gravy. And stuff like this."

"Since I am going to die and all I'd like to apologize. When you spoke, I thought you were the rich snob who went to BSS and then abroad for further studies. It was your accent. And I am a little judgmental. Maybe little is a euphemism. But hey I loved your denim. Where is it from? Never mind, from the looks of you I can tell you disapprove of me. And I would have minded it, if everyone who knows me didn't."

Zoya was spitting all unnecessary information out of her system only to get interrupted by a "Mam". She looked at her right to find the kind flight attendant who had helped her with her bag. "Are you here to tell me that it is time to recite Kalma Shahadat?" Zoya asked as her face went white.

"No Mam, we have landed safely. You can unbuckle your seatbelt now." She said as she passed a sympathetic smile to the stranger beside her before leaving Zoya to her thoughts.

"We are alive. "Zoya exclaimed stupidly, looking around at the fellow passengers who were already busy getting their stuff from the overhead compartments. How? When? Atleast, she didn't have to go through the frightful experience of landing.

"Yes, we are alive." The cucumber guy responded from beside her. And the realization hit her like ice cold water. Until now she was going to die, and he was going to die too so it didn't matter if he knew her secrets. But now they were alive and hell......

What had she told him? She herself couldn't remember.

You have freaking told him everything.

What if he is a kidnapper?

He certainly doesn't look like one.

What kind of kidnapper wears denims?

The Burger ones? Her alter ego answered.

"Sorry, you should have stopped me. I was just nervous. It hasn't been my day." Zoya replied awkwardly. Ughh, she was embarrassed.

"I tried" He replied with a sadistic grin.

Ugh, would it kill him to be polite. He could have kept quiet instead of being rude and stating what is obvious. At least hadn't interrupted when she was throwing shit load of information. "And it's from Levis" he said as his well-proportioned mouth curved into a lopsided grin.

God his smile is so, MashAllah. He really should smile. It makes him look less grim.

"Huh??? Zoya asked sheepishly. Only to get informed that he was talking about the jacket. "I am so sorry. I wasn't myself earlier. Thank you." Zoya replied as she gave him a smile of her own. Her cheeks were turning red as she thought about shit load of stuff, she had told him.

It's not that I am ever going to see him again. Itna bara Pakistan hai (PAKISTAN IS SO BIG), I'd never hear from him. Yes, it's okay. No big deal. Stop stressing over nothing. Nothing happened. Look on the positive side. We have landed safely. You are alive. And maybe the guy has a sucker memory and probably won't remember the girl who sat beside him on a flight and had 'cacoethes loquendi! ' [passion for speaking. I don't want you to open a dictionary].

Giving him a last glance Zoya grabbed her hand bag and her carry on, hoping to never see him again. It was already awkward enough. If she met him again, she'd die of embarrassment.

->Zoya NotePAD!

1) 'Work on don't talk to strangers' advice my mother had been giving since I have turned 5.

2) Check Levis out for that denim!

Okay so umm tell me what you think about it. Comment, vote and share. (If you haven't check out my other books?)

Also, don't we all know at least one sucker, pulling us down kind of teachers?

What are your stupid secrets? (I promise I won't tell)

The song attached is umm about the two strangers meeting and I love this song. It's by Thomas Rhett and It's not mine. (LOL)

Until next time.

فی امان اﷲ

love Alyna