Zoya sat on her study table going through her emails. Being a university teacher was difficult. Not to sound like a complete ungrateful mess, she liked it but it was a tough job. She was still on a probation period, but it was good honest work considering that she was a freshie with zero experience.

Zoya, had applied as a programming instructor at the university she had just graduated from. While her friends went abroad for further studies and some joined some big software firms, Zoya stuck to teaching. Mainly because she, failed all the placement interviews. Thanks to her extremely honest self. No, she didn't regret any of it but sometimes the thought of being unsuccessful flashed though her mind making her miserable. Note 'sometimes', means most of the time. Her friends were successful, had big shinny cars while she was what? A teacher? And life is no '3 idiots' where she was some teacher scientist the Japanese were after. Bottom line, her life sucked.

To give her some credit, she was free lancing and was doing research apart from the teaching. But sometimes she felt like a failure when she opened her Instagram. Pictures of her batch mates enjoying a vacation in Miami or check-in in a posh 5-star restaurants were like a reality check that used to slap her in the face. She neither was successful, nor she was married. What a complete utter failure she was in the eyes of people from her circle. No one said it out loud, at least not her parents but she knew their "ahhs" and "oohs" and the "wohs" they came up with when someone asked her marital status.

A 26-year-old instructor of PF (Programming Fundamentals) at PU was a big achievement and she had managed to secure that position. All thanks to her exceedingly high cGPA, her experience as teacher's assistant and the reference Mr. Ali Khan, her programming teacher had provided. This job had made her father so happy; he had distributed sweets in the neighborhood, but it was not enough for her. She still felt like loser. Because unlike her brother -who was now a commissioned officer in army, she hadn't done anything distinguishable.

All the lemons of her life aside, Zoya loved what she did. She loved being the web developer, developing new sites. It had such a thrill to it. Despite all the stones in her path, she hoped that one day she would land a job in esteemed software houses. Someday she was going to go big, make her father so proud that he would cry with tears like he did on her brother's passing out parade! Oneday. She hoped.

Life at university was tough too. Especially being a young instructor, she was not taken seriously. Back benchers were a nightmare and she feared them. Her first day as an instructor flashed in front of her eyes as she thought about it. She would never forget that day, nor she would forget that curly-haired,funny short heighted Arkam, who flirted with her shamelessly in front of the whole class, thinking she was a fellow student. The chick of him, he even handed her with her number. The whole class had gaped while she had turned red. Bright red. And then instead of giving him the glare which could freeze hell, she had looked away trying to shield herself from the curious gazes of the audience who laughed. She would have cried, yes cried. If she was not rescued by Buttercup. It was the name Zoya had given to Ms. Shabana who was tough, hot headed and mean like Buttercup from Power puff girls. Yes, Zoya knows her cartoon.

Sipping the cold tea, which she has not so effortlessly ignored, Zoya checked her e-mails. Being an instructor, it was her thing. Checking emails, and mails, and letters had become a habit. Usually, students e-mailed her, their issues regarding their late submissions, poor marks and the list went on.

Staring at her laptop screen Zoya blinked in disbelief. Alizey never emailed. NEVER! Then why did she have an email in her inbox with a subject 'SOS'. Did they not talk last month? Zoya was taking deep breaths to calm her ragging heart. She was nervous. What was it , that she needed help with? Was Alizey, okay? Was everyone from her fam, okay? Few minutes that passed during which Zoya dreaded opening the mail, were enough to give her apoplexy. Closing her eyes, she clicked on 'open'.

"Zoya, you parcel came today. It's on your bookshelf." Her Ammi called. Heavens a parcel? Staring at the screen Zoya read the email and the emotions which flooded were worse than the ones she felt earlier. She stared at the digital wedding invite in horror.

Zoya shook her head as she smiled. Alizey andher self-obsessiveness had no end to it. She considered herself a marvel whodid everything with utter perfection. While Zoya- herself was the opposite ofAlizey.

Zoya stared at the screen for a long 5 minutes. Alizey was getting married to Hashim. Kainat was already married. Fazeela was nikkahfied to her cousin who worked in the Gulf countries. The only unmarried person left was her. Going to the wedding surrounded by her overachieving friends with whom she lost contact was going to be a pain. And there appeared no obvious way that she could avoid it.

Realizing that she was too depressed to further work or read the emails, she closed the flap of her laptop with a sigh. Putting on her air pods she played "Bad Liar" by Imagine Dragons. Tears streamed down her face as the song proceeded. "Bad Liar," a song she listened to when she felt like crying. Hell, she was a failure. Hell, she dreaded meeting everyone. Hell, she was neither pretty or successful or rich. Hell, she was a loser. And hell, and damnation she was a 'bad liar'.

Irtaza Haider Awan stared at the water droplets that crashed against the glass window of his 10th story apartment. Crashed, like his life had when the girl he cherished the most ditched him. Did Mufti Menk not preach to keep everything halal? If only he had listened. If only he had gotten nikkafied to her instead of keeping up with that ruse of an engagement which did not last. Ayesha broke their engagement and broke his heart while she was at it. Maybe not his heart, maybe it was the ego that had taken the blow. Whatever!!!

But that was not it. His mother was forcing his hand, asking him to get married. Telling him he was not getting any younger, which although was true did stung. He was no Kabir Singh to waste his days drinking and school and plundering his career just because a girl ditched him. But drinking was haram. Sometimes he wondered if it had been Halal, Ayesha would have made him an alcoholic.

So what, if he was career orientated? So what, if he invested in their future more than their present? So what, if he loved making money? He was doing all of it for them and their future. Did she not love the expensive shit? Did she not check the price tags and buy the creepiest, hideous things just because they were expensive? He wanted to shout at her when she had said "You don't give me time Irtaza. For you I do not matter. I am sorry. I am calling off the engagement."

Funny part was he allowed her to keep the ring. What was he supposed to do with it? Keep it as souvenir. No! Irtaza Haider did not take back the gifts he had given, nor the words he had said. Call him rude, egotistical unapologetic jerk, like Ayesha had called. But it was what it was.

Initially belonging to a middle-class family, Irtaza's had seen his father grind his bones to provide for quality education by sending him to upper-class school, for O levels despite the protest from extended family. His father had not lived long enough to see him succeed. His death had left their family low on cash with financial problems.

Irtaza although had managed to grab a scholarship for the A Level program thanks to his exceptionally good grades, and then work his ass off at the café campus to pay for the tuition 50 percent of the tuition fee of the law school (50% because he was granted scholarship thanks to the exceptionally high SAT score and well Bill gates who had this program for people who belonged to poor country but were academically exceptional). That was how he got his degree from the prestigious university in London. Working hard came naturally to him, studying abroad when you belong to a middle-class modest family without a father, you learn to work hard and while you are at it you learn how important money is.

By the grace of Allah, he was doing great as an attorney now. He had invested all his father's saving shrewdly (which were not much considering he worked in a private firm, which meant they was no pension) that resulted in huge profits. Gone were the days when they had money problems. To the rest of the world they screamed, money and class now but only Irtaza knew at what cost and how.

When he had met Ayesha, in the café where he worked shifts, they had hit off. She like him was practical, career oriented and a mature girl who understood his ambition. The Ayesha, who broke up with him was not so understanding. Sometimes when he thought about it, he was glad that they called it off. The rest of the time he was miserable. Not because he missed her, but because with her out of the picture, his life and routine changed.

Hell, he had a mapped his life schedule with Ayesha in it. This year he planned to get married. And being a person with OCD he hated change. Despised it with a passion.

Irtaza was brought back to the world from where he was measuring and weighing who his potential bride might be, by his phone that kept ringing. Deciding that whoso ever it was, will not stop until he answered, he grabbed the phone and attended the call.

"Irtaza, my brother. Guess who is getting married", said overly excited voice of Hashim. Irtaza was in such a foul mood that he wanted to say, "NOT ME," much to his own disappointment.

"Who? Hashim......", he replied in a not interested tone. If the other person were anyone except Hashim, they would have taken the hint and disconnected the call. But Hashim paid no attention to Irtaza's dismissive tone.

"ME! Hell, Alizey said yes. Irtaza, you my man must come. We are not taking a no. And by 'we' I mean everyone at home. Minaal even promised she won't talk to you if you don't come." By Hashim's tone Irtaza could tell that, Hashim was supper proud to have convinced Minaal to be on his side and the scheme of using Minaal as a bait. He didn't want to go back! Was it completely unpatriotic of him? For he did not want to go back to Pakistan, ever!

After briefing him about the situation, Hashim disconnected the call, leaving Irtaza with a bigger dilemma. He had to go back to Pakistan. And hell, everyone was going to ask about Ayesha. Not everyone, but his mother and Minaal. And when they would get to know that the engagement was called off, they were going to force him to get married to some girl of their choice with zero ambitions. Who would want nothing out of her life, all she would want would be his time. Not understanding how important it was for him to have a solid insurance and retirement plan.

Time was something, he would not be able to give to his partner. When he died, he wanted his family and his children to have financial security. Was that too much to ask for? He hated when people considered him materialistic or greedy. Just because you know the value and importance of money does not mean, you are a dollar hungry man.

Cradling his face in his hands, he thought. Thought about the wedding he had to attend. About the relatives who had turned their back on them after his father's death. About meeting them again. And to say the thoughts were not so pleasant would be an understatement. He, a 30-year-old attorney with a solid career, was afraid of going back.

He had to be there for Hashim. Out of everyone, Hashim had been there for him. No matter what, Irtaza could not abandon him. At least not on his big day.

فی امان اللہ.