“What’s this?”
I look up from my notebook, where I was writing:
3) We will Not Ask
He was standing in front of me, his eyes scanning the contents of the page.
1) We will tell no one about this deal
2) We will respect each other’s personal space and privacy.
3) We will Not Ask
“It’s just a draft, I’ll make a proper contract and get it ready by tonight. ” I say, as he sits back down.
He nods. “Can we get it over with quick? I have to be somewhere urgently.”
I resist the urge to snap at him.
This is serious business, and he wants to BE SOMEWHERE?
I take a bite of my sandwich to make sure I don’t say anything.
He grabs my notebook. “We will not Ask what?” He says, looking at me questioningly.
My mouth is full, so I can’t reply and he knowingly stares at me trying to chew quickly, eyes lighting up in amusement.
I glare at him. “Stop staring!” I say, with a mouthful of chewed beef.
He laughs.
Asshole.
I quickly swallow the bite. “We will not ask each other about our professional activities.” I bite out, grabbing my lemonade and taking a long sip.
He could do with being a bit more serious.
He tilts his head to the side. “Doesn’t that come under privacy?”
I shake my head. “Literally? No. Not asking where we’ve been all night, who were we talking to for so long, reading personal chats or documents, interfering in each others daily life or going through each others personal belongings comes under privacy.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you having an affair?”
I stare at him, baffled.
What the hell?
“What? Why would you think that?” I ask incredulously.
He shrugs. “Ok, are you planning to then?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”I ask, confusion evident in my tone.
He gestures towards the notebook. “Your definition of ‘privacy.’ Not asking where you were all night? Not reading your chats and asking who you were talking to for hours? The only sensible reason for these boundaries that comes to my mind, is that YOU’RE HAVING AN AFFAIR.”
I scowl.
They were actually because sometimes I fell asleep while working in my office, and woke up at dawn. And well, some of my clients have this habit of calling me at random hours, mistaking me for their therapist and ranting about all the trauma they’d gone through since they were babies.
And the chats were non of his business anyway.
But he doesn’t have to know that.
“I’m free to have an affair if I want, I don’t have to make rules to hide it from you.” I snap.
He smirks. “So the great Mansha Haseeb has kinks too, huh?”
My face burns. “Shut up.” I say through clenched teeth.
His smirk widens, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Do you have a preference?”
His words snap the thin line of patience I was holding on too, and I kick him under the table.
He isn’t sitting very close though, so my foot lands a weak kick to his knee.
It wipes the smirk right out of his face though, so I wouldn’t consider my efforts to be in vain.
“Fine, I’ll be finding out soon anyway.” He says, looking down at his knee and dusting it with a hand.
Probably dust from where my shoe landed, I think, satisfied
He looks at me through his eyelashes. “It’s not like you’ll be hiding it from me, right? There’s no excitement in THAT. ”
I wanna kill him.
RIGHT NOW.
I’m sizzling with anger, while he casually sits up straight, and reaches for my pen.
He scribbles something on the page, then hands the book to me.
I glance down at it.
4) We will have a divorce only if it’s been mutually agreed upon.
I give him a questioning look.
“Just to be safe. I don’t want you coming up to me one day and saying, ‘we need a divorce, I’ve found someone else.’ ” He says those dialogues dramatically, attempting to mimic my voice, but failing drastically.
I purse my lips. “Do you know how immensely ridiculous you are being? If I could so easily find a man, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
“Well, you find love when you least expect it, don’t you?” He says, crossing his arms and resting them on the table.
I scrunch up my nose. What a cliche line.
But suggestive and suspicious as well, given the way he said it in, all serious.
“Did you find love Mr. Malik?” He gives me an alarmed look. “Is that it?” My mind connects all the dots, remembering what he’d said to me the night I proposed. “Did you think you’d found love, but she’d just been with you for the money?”
His forehead creases in a frown.
For a while, we just stare at each other, the soft music playing in the background filling the silence between us.
Then he finally speaks. “Love doesn’t exist Ms. Haseeb.”
“Then why’d you say we find it?” I challenge.
“Because we do. Or, more specifically, we think we do. But in the end, it turns out to be a lie, like everything else. It decieves you, turns you inside out, then abandons you.” He pauses, hardened eyes boring into mine, jaw clenched. “You don’t have to experience heartbreak to know that Mansha. You just have to witness it.”
×———-×
When I arrive back at my office, I quickly get to work and prepare the informal contract, before I could get distracted by anything else:
THE CONDITIONS DEFINING THE FAKE MARRIAGE TAKING PLACE BETWEEN MANSHA HASEEB AND KHIZER MALIK:
1) No one will know about this deal.
2) Both partners will respect each other’s personal space and privacy.
3) Both partners will not ask or meddle in each other’s professional activities – those being between Mr. Ahmed and them, or anyone else.
4) Divorce between the partners will only take
place if it’s been mutually agreed upon.
5) Both partners will equally divide the living expanses and housework.
6) Any type of service or labour can not be demanded of said partner, and can only be given by them wilfully.
7) There will be no intimate relations between the partners, unless it’s for show in front of family or friends – and that too, must be limited.
8) The partners will help each other during times of emergency.
9) The partners will attend all events – held both in their families or work place – together.
10) Both partners will respect each other’s family members and will treat them with kindness.
This Contract Can Only Be Dissolved If Both Partners Mutually Agree Upon It.