Don't Remind Me

Chapter 47: The Red Punching Bag

I didn't recall telling Khan to take me to our offices, but there we were; parked in my regular spot, with my driver staring expectantly at me as I refused to budge from the backseat. 

"Do you need help with your bag, Layla Bibi?" He asked politely. 

I shook my head numbly, walking to the elevator bank, on autopilot. Since it was a little over 5:00 pm, the night guards were on duty beyond the entrance gates, and the familiar ones greeted me politely. I must have seemed like a snobby bitch when I ghosted past them without responding. 

Someone else was in charge of my body now. Someone alien. Because it certainly wasn't Layla Hayat. 

Maybe an hour later, or maybe a month later, I realized that I was sitting in my darkened office, and Fahad was saying something to me. 

"...visit of the psychotherapist from Lahore, followed by the session on breast cancer awareness?" 

"What?" I asked confusedly, and my loyal assistant finally caught on to my complete inattentiveness. 

"Would you like me to open the blinds and the lights?" Fahad asked briskly after repeating a list of tasks that needed my review and approval.

I shrugged. 

"Can I take that as a yes? or an ambiguous response?" he pressed. 

"Yes." I mumbled, staring blindly at the shadowed silhouettes of the cactus collection on my desk. 

"Yes, I can take that as a yes? or Yes, it is an ambiguous response requiring no action on my part?" 

"Go away." I swallowed painfully, closing my eyes, when all I wanted to do was close my brain. I wanted oblivion from my memory, I wanted to go to a place where I didn't exist, and Fahad just wasn't helping me get there. 

He must have left at my terse plea, and I allowed myself the liberty to lose track of time once more. Because my blinds were closed, I had no idea if it was still nighttime, or if it were a new day altogether. Minutes, hours didn't exist in this dimension of oblivion. 

For the first time in my life post-hiraeth, I idly contemplated suicide during that timeless time. This is where I put my business degree to use; I did a cost-benefit analysis of ending my own pathetic life. 

Cost: My family would be devastated.

Benefit: I'd find true oblivion.

and then, 

Cost: My eternal soul will burn in hell.

Benefit: Azaan wouldn't hate me. He'd truly love me till the day I died.

I was working out the third one in my head, when the overhead lights in my room were unceremoniously snapped open. I flinched at the harsh assault to my eyes, a moan of irritation making its way out of me.

"Nightlife?" Azaan called out in disbelief from the doorway. His hand was still hovering over the switchboard. Astonishment, and worry was written all over his face, and I automatically recoiled from the sentiment. I don't deserve your worry. 

"Layla? what the hell happened? it's 2:30 in the morning, sweetheart! what the hell are you still doing here?" he frowned at me, cautiously approaching my desk. I noted that he was wearing an old, hole-ridden Sonic shirt and bermuda shorts; with his hair standing on end, and tired dark circles under his eyes, he had obviously left his bed to get here. 

"I'm working." I replied shakily, toying nervously with the task journal lying in front of my desk. I blindly stared at the yellow-lined pages, trying to make sense of the words written there. The only thing that currently made sense to me, was my betrayal. My helplessness. My cowardice. My self-disgust.