Holding on and Letting go [Complete]

10)Something was terribly wrong.

"For the millionth time, Ayat. Yes you did the right thing," Irha slumped against her spot on the bed as she wailed at Aayt's constant blabbers.

Ayat had spilled the entire incident of her slapping Ahid to Irha and even though she had agreed with her, Ayat just couldn't wrap her head around the fact that her best friend was indeed siding up with her, and kept squabbling about how Ahid was being a total jerk.

"Stop being so cavalier and be supportive like a friend," she snapped at her.

"But I am being supportive," Irha clattered honestly in a falsetto, plopping her eyes on to her.

It had been one day since the incident took place but Ayat was still over the top cranked up at him, wanting to skin him to death with the sharpest scalpel.

"Doesn't seem like so," she snorted.

"Yeah well that's because there are far more complex problems than your petty molecule ones," it was her turn to snap now.

"Oh really?," she arched a perfect eyebrow; "Like what for instance?," she crossed her arms on her chest.

"Like how Ross and Rachel were on a break."

"WHAT?," Ayat blurted out in shock, eyes widened to a dangerous degree; "Holy pakora, Irha. Are you freaking kidding me? They clearly were not," she hurtled with the list of infinite reasons trying to knock sense in to Irha until she realized it was just one of her tactics to divert her shrewd best friend from the wrecked metal her head had become.

She stopped talking immediately and Irha rose here eyebrow up. They both stared into each other for a while and burst out in to hysterics the next moment.

"I love you, buddy," Ayat exclaimed. There were rare moments when she would actually admit it and right now was one of them and as much as she was uncomfortable saying it, she just couldn't suppress the urge. Irha was like a sister to her and meant the world to her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you? Would you mind repeating it?," she said mawkishly, craning her neck so that her ear was in face to Ayat.

Ayat moaned as she pouted in annoyance; "Don't make me more uncomfortable than I already am."

Irha chortled and held her hands. A sudden shriek escaped Ayat's mouth as she instantly jerked her right hand away.

Irha furrowed her eyebrows in concern "What happened to your hand?," she prompted, examining it.

"Nothing it's just a bit sore on the wrist after all that beating up," That day, as soon as the inside of her hand came in contact with Ahid's sharp and chiseled cheek bone, a pang of pain shot up through her wrist and a kink landed on the sole. Probably because of the wrong angle due to lack of practice.

"Allah, Ayat. You're so careless. Let me go get an ointment."

After the ointment was applied, she asked her to use it thrice a day like a real amateur doctor she was.

"Okay dadi amma."

"Because you know you won't be able to work on your project with your right hand crushed. Speaking of which how's it going anyway?"

"It's going great Alhamdulillah. Just some editing and it's ready to rock."

"Insha'Allah!"

Rest of the night was beguiled by Irha making frenh fries and Ayat sitting on the counter top with her laptop on, trying to hunt down any good movie on netflix until she finally found one. And ritualistically the fries were already in their tummies before the first scene even kicked off.