Waleed Asad Bukhari is the ultimate workaholic. With a flourishing tech company to look after, he doesn't have the time or interest for a life outside of it. Neither does he want the wife his mother is imposing on him.
That is until he finds himself...
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Eliza
"Ullukepathay!" I screamed behind the car that raced away far too fast for someone who wasn't guilty.
My shirt was soaked— in muddy rainwater from a damn puddle! "Lantiinsaan!" I cried out at the sight of my kurti and plopped back on the bench, later realizing that it, too, was wet. "Qismat hi kharabhaimeri."
*"I've got bad luck."
The woman beside me glared at me, covering her toddler's ears who seemed too curious about whatever the hell I was going on about.
Even kids couldn't mind their business these days.
"What?" I snapped at the woman whose glare intensified. "It's your child's fault for listening to me!"
"Stop cursing in a public place, jahilaurat!" The woman shot back fiercely, irritating me further.
"Looks like you've come to the wrong country then, Angel, this is Pakistan!" I retorted and flung my bag over my shoulder, stomping away with my dirty sneakers for extra measure.
I looked and felt like shit.
Now, either I could return home to save myself from the embarrassment of facing humans when my shirt had been dirtied, my pants were soaked and my sneakers were leaving behind a trail of mud.
Or, I could hold my head up high and own this look even though I looked like I'd just rolled on the roads of Islamabad after a rainy night.
The second option was, obviously, better. Especially when I'd finally found the motivation to get up from my bed and be here: in front of NADRA to get my ID card made after a whole year of expiration.
Get my reasoning now?
So I held onto the strap of my bag and pushed open the glass door, welcoming the cool air that hit me in the face before heading up to the counter and getting a receipt then sitting down on one of the chairs to wait for my turn.
The people on my left and right eyed me like they'd seen a gorilla walk in.
Good thing people's opinions rarely mattered to me. Everyone always had too much to say about me, anyway.
I leveled the man on my left with a hard stare, shooting him with a judging look on my own. He was listening to Hum Tum EkKamre Mein Band Ho, and loud enough for me to hear clearly through his earphones, for God's sake!
