Earlier that day, Yumna and Wahaj had a shoot, which wrapped up early at around 5. He wanted them to go to the beach for a walk and then have dinner, but she said a clear no, not bulging from her decision. She didn’t even offer him to come to her apartment, even though she’d be free all evening. She left before he even had the chance to invite her to his place or to spend time together at hers.
To sum up, he was in a really, really bad mood when he drove towards her apartment. He sat for more than 20 minutes in the parking lot, lining up how he’s going to converse with her. He would make her apologize and make it up to him. He walked towards her apartment and, for a change, rang the bell instead of opening the door himself and waited for her to open the door.
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Yumna hardly got time to herself these days due the hectic schedule of hers, shooting the drama and having an early morning practice session for her debut movie. She rarely had early time off, so when Wahaj offered her to go on an outing, she denied it and came straight to her apartment. She had a few chores to do that had been pending for days now, like unpacking and putting in the right places the stuff she ordered, hanging the new clothes in her wardrobe, and along with this, she decided to cook herself her favorite pasta. So, she wore her air pods and started working.
She didn’t hear the doorbell ringing for the third time now, nor did she realize Wahaj had walked in two minutes later. She just wanted to finish cooking her pasta. She wasn’t hungry at the moment, but she wanted to finish off all the work right then and binge-watch some shows the whole night until sleep took over. She was moving lightly to the rhythm of the music while stirring the sauce, her backside visible from the open kitchen.
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Wahaj rang the bell and waited; a minute later, he pressed it again and did not get any response. He couldn’t deny he was panicking on the inside, worried why she wasn’t responding. He rang it for the third time and waited just 5 seconds before he opened the door with the spare keys he had.
He almost ran inside and yelled her name, “YUM-” but stopped midway when he saw her in the kitchen. Wahaj watched her carefree self-enjoying whatever she was cooking. She had her air pods on, the reason why she didn’t come to the door. She was alright, almost dancing to the beats of the song she was listening to while singing it along, while he almost had a panic attack.
Suddenly, he remembered how annoyed he was with her, and this added to that. Now he was in no mood to even argue with her. He just took off his shoes and sat down on the couch, facing the blank screen of the television.
Yumna still did not notice him for the next 5 minutes and 43 seconds, not that he was counting while he was hugging the cushion he had placed in his lap, his chin resting on the cushion while he sat in Indian style. It was the 5th minute and 45th second when he heard a shrill, shrieking voice from behind.
And then a “WAAHaj!”- It was something in between a question and a panic whisper shout.
He controlled himself from showing any reaction. She came and stood on the right side of the couch.
“When did you come?” She asked. But he didn’t respond and looked to the other side.
“Wahaj” she said again, but he ignored her.
“Why are you here?” A little annoyed this time due to his lack of response and again getting no answer, she was done with his moody self.
“Why did you even come when you don’t want to talk to me?”
He glared at her for a mere second and again tilted his head a little more to the left. He had thought she’d sit beside him on the couch and try to ask him what’s wrong more politely while stroking his bearded cheek, but he came out of his delusion, and soon as she said “Fine.” She put her air pod back and turned back towards the kitchen. Her voice came from behind him, “Bhaar main jao.” She went back to cooking, ignoring him completely.
