He likes the pretty girls.

He likes the pretty girls

He likes the fancy ones

Because obviously they are no hassle  

They are not the ones he has to worry about a history with


He likes the pretty girls 

He likes the funny ones

Because isn’t their self confidence sexy

Who cares about the one who hates herself now because of all the undermining things he has told her 


He likes the pretty girls

He likes the ones with the rosy lips 

Who wouldn’t want to kiss those

Who cares about the one with the pale ones that only tremble every time she looks at him


He likes the pretty girls 

He likes the ones that are fun to talk with 

Because who doesn’t like some playfulness after midnight 

Who would want to hear someone beg them to stay for a little while longer


He likes the pretty girls

He likes the ones with life in their eyes

He says, ‘hey, doesn’t she have something in her eyes that makes you feel life?’ 

Who cares about puffy eyes with all the late night crying and anxiety attacks
He likes the pretty girls 

He likes the ones that tell him how gorgeous he is

Because obviously a woman like that praising him just means an increase in his prestige 

A girl sick in his love saying it comes as shame and a million questions from the people around him and it is not even worth it 

He likes the pretty girls. Because they stay for a little while. They’re fun for a little while. But you don’t. You make him feel shit and just embarrass him in front of public so stupid girl, don’t exist. Don’t exist anywhere in the story of his life because you ruin it for him. 

You ruin it by fulfilling the promise of loving him forever. Stupid girl, did you not know you were supposed to stop loving him the day it all ended? Did you not know you had know rights no more and only the pretty girls did? Don’t you know he likes the girls that will stay hooked to him only till the day he gets rotten? Don’t you know he likes the girls that will only want to kiss him for one night? Don’t you know he only tells them nice things when she isn’t you? Stupid girl.

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Getting married to a man better than the one I was in love with – Part 3

After taking a shower, I somehow mustered the courage to walk out of the room. I walked down the stairs while towel drying my hair, just to find Asad in the kitchen, most probably cooking. He had his (pretty much shirtless) back towards me and was humming some sort of tune I had never heard. Oh god, at least let his music taste be bearable.

I made no sound. I just stood their looking at him, feeling awkward and very alone.

‘When did you wake up?’ he asked me when he turned around after a good 10 to 15 minutes.

I still didn’t know how to speak up so I just stood there silently but my gaze may have wandered a little further down than my liking. Hey, can you blame me? I might not be interested but I was still a woman. I looked away as soon as I realised and he must have noticed too because I heard a small, slightly ashamed ‘oh’ and saw him quickly put his shirt on from the corner of my eye.

‘Forget it, you are up at the right time. Breakfast is ready.’ He smiled. Why the fuck was he smiling?

I started to move towards the table, although I had no mood of being with him in the same room but I was so hungry, I swear I heard my stomach growl 3 times in a row in the last 10 minutes.

Before I could reach, Asad pushed a chair out for me to sit on. Wait, wait, what? This was 2028. This stuff did not happen anymore since the last 3 decades at least. And he smiled too. God, why can’t this man stop smiling already? I gave him a very suspicious look but sat anyway.

To make it worse, he also made my plate for me. The food was really nice considering it was cooked by a 29 year old guy, but the salt was just a little less than my liking. I took small slow bites of my omelette and did not bring my eyes up from my plate even for a moment. I knew he was looking at me. I could feel his eyes intently fixed on me, observing me and my behaviour.

Okay, no. The salt was barely there. I finally looked up just to search the table. The salt was there on his right. I tried to reach for it without letting him notice but he did.

‘What do you want, Sarah?’

That’s when I looked up into his eyes. I could see it there. He knew what I wanted because he was secretly hiding his smile. I tried to point at the salt bottle.

‘I don’t get you, what is it?’

Oh, I get it now. He wanted to hear me speak.

‘Kuch nahi.’ (It is nothing) I said.

‘Chalo, awaz tou sunli tumhari mein ne.’ (At least I have heard your voice now) he told me with a sly smile. I wanted to smack that smile right off his face. It was too much. What did this guy think about himself? He just really creeped me out with his smile and extremely cheesy and stupid lines.

He handed over the salt to me though but I refused to take it and carried on eating my tasteless omelette. Now, with bigger bites so I could leave this place and get as far away as I can from this creep. (read: my husband)

‘Sarah, listen.’

This time I didn’t take notice.

‘Please, I need to talk to you about something.’

He had a serious tone this time. I looked up at him.

‘It is about this honeymoon thing…’

As soon as I heard that word I just pushed my plate away. It made me want to throw up everything I had just eaten.

‘I know how you feel… or what you are thinking so just listen. Please.’

I could hear the hesitation in his voice so I let him carry on. However I had now diverted my gaze from his face to the wall in front of me.

‘The thing is, I’m my parents’ only son. And even I don’t know why, but they are very excited about the entire marriage thing and have already booked the tickets and everything for the coming weekend. I just don’t want to disappoint them by not going nor do I want them to feel like something is wrong between us.’

Oh, so he did know something was wrong. I cursed myself. God, any sane person would know something was wrong with ‘me.’ Not ‘us.’ I exhaled heavily. I knew how it felt. The entire ‘hurting your parents’ thing. After all, that was the entire reason I ended up getting married to this man sitting right in front of me.

‘I know how it feels.’ I spoke up in a low voice.

‘So, I see we are talking now.’ He smirked. Bastard.

I was still uncomfortable about this but I guess I’ll do this and stop thinking just about myself for once.

‘Um, I won’t make any attempts of doing anything that has to do with what you are scared of.’

‘What I am scared of?’ I arched my eyebrow at him questioningly.

‘Uh, you know… the 3 lettered most common word?’ He said looking up at the roof while running his fingers through his, I must say, very gorgeous hair.

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. But I was really glad he didn’t just throw the word ‘sex’ on my face.

‘I love my parents, Sarah. I hate hurting them. But even then if you are not comfortable enough, I’ll just tell them no I can’t go because a business meeting came up.’ He said.

‘Shut up before I change my mind.’ I said before getting up and walking towards my room.

I pack up my stuff as soon as I can in 3 days and we head over towards our destination which as far as I remember was Miami. I had been there before and honestly, that relieved me. There had been enough ‘first times’ in my life lately.

It was quite honestly the most awkward flight of my entire life. I knew he was making every single effort that he could to make me feel more comfortable but it just wasn’t comfortable for me to manage not t let my arm come in contact with his or my foot caress his in an 18 hours long flight. But somehow I made it through.

As soon as we reach our hotel, I just look around to find the bed and just land on it. It was so soft. I could just melt in this bed and go for a deep slumber in it forever. I hear him laugh a little at my back but I didn’t care. I was so tired and I just fell asleep.

The next day, after we are done with breakfast and everything, Asad tells me, ‘We are going shopping today.’

‘Shopping? I don’t like shopping.’ I reply. ‘Moreover, men don’t like it.’

‘But you used to love shopping!’

That caught me off guard.

‘How do YOU know, I used to like it.’

I see him looking away and I ask him the same thing again.

‘I may have asked someone.’ He says.

‘Who?’

‘Your sister.’

‘You do know I hate it when someone does it, right?’

‘I’m sorry, Sarah.’

I decided to let this go too and just went to get ready.

Author’s note: I’m so sorry for prolonging this and I specifically wrote this one in a hurry. I know parts are exhausting as they are exhausting for me too. I wrote the entire draft for this back in May. Trust me, they were just 13 points and I was pretty sure I would be done with it in one go but somehow everytime I sit to write, I end up writing 4-5 paragraphs on just one point. And all kinds of new scenes just start to create in my mind so I can’t stop. I’m sorry for keeping you hanging, I promise it will soon be over. Also, this is particularly hard for me to write as I’m not much of a fiction writer and I keep the exact opposite mentality from what I’m writing about. Let’s hope it doesn’t go as bad as I’m scared for it to go. Thank you so much for all the love. No matter how messy life gets, you guys never fail to cheer me up!

Please understand.

Depression is strange, right? You could be miles away from home. You could be on the opposite side of the world. You could be at such beautiful places that a lot can only dream of. Even after all that, it will still find its way to you. It will come and eat you up.

It doesn’t matter if you are in the middle of a crowd taking photographs, laughing, singing songs; you, on the other hand, could be in a whole another world.

You start to sweat in such cool mist around you. You feel like you’re being suffocated and you need to hold something to help you regain your balance and not fall and end up causing some serious drama. A panic attack is what you fear the most. Not because of yourself, but because of how you don’t want to ruin your family’s vacation too with your very common panic attacks and all the other shit you are very prone to. Every time your parents ask you, ‘are you okay?’ and you just nod because you know that if you speak, your voice will break.

You just walk. On your own. You look around yourself while all the horrible things everyone who mattered has ever said to you, echo in your head. Your vision blurs but you refuse to cry and just keep on walking and try your best to keep track of your family’s voices to know you are somewhere near them. But then you come across this cliff. It’s beautiful. You’re walking almost on the edge of it. And you wonder, what if I jump off this? Will it be fun? Will it be enough to kill me?

But then hear your mom’s voice, shouting from a distance, asking you to walk faster because they are tired waiting for you. And you turn around, leave your tempting thoughts behind and just walk silently and obediently behind them, hugging yourself and not allowing yourself to break down.

Let me tell you it sucks. It’s really horrible. So just stop making depression sound fucking fascinating because it feels like being choked, all the fucking time. Thank you.

Getting married to a man better than the one I was in love with – Part 2


A week later, I was engaged to a complete stranger. He happened to be my father’s business partner’s son who just came back to Pakistan a month ago after graduating. We were both complete strangers. I didn’t know what I was doing. Trust me, I didn’t. A part of me was scared too. I didn’t even slightly have the same feelings as a girl soon getting married. No joy. No smiles.

I remember this ceremony taking place a few days before my wedding. I was completely covered in yellow. My hair all oiled up. No makeup. I was supposed to stay that way for 3 days. According to our people, this is a ritual taken place a few days before a girl’s wedding to ‘enhance’ her beauty. I was not allowed to go out for those 3 days. Especially, not meet my husband-to-be, Asad. Jeez, the term even sounded strange to me. But who cared about him. I was worried about my man. And when I say my man, I don’t mean Asad. My cousins basically found it ‘funny’ to hide my cellphone too so I can’t contact their ‘brother-in-law.’ I hated this stunt but I was too tired and exhausted to argue about it with a bunch of teenage girls who thought they were teasing me and making me blush about it all.

I just sat their, staring at all my cousins and aunties cracking jokes, laughing and singing songs. I just stared. But I wasn’t there. I was in a whole another world.

He was sleeping. On the ground near some bushes. I lay there next to him, half naked, brushing his hair away from his forehead, taking in his face entirely to somehow imprint it in my memory. He suddenly opened his eyes and asked me, ‘what are you doing?’

I’ll tell you a secret, it scared me. I quickly pulled my hand away and closed my eyes and gently whispered, ‘nothing. I was doing nothing.’ That’s when I felt his arm wrap around me. His bony fingers ran across my waist under my shirt.

‘Sarah?’

‘Mhm?’

‘We are nothing.’

‘Mhm.’

‘You know that, right?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Say it.’

‘Yes, I know we are nothing.’

‘Good girl,’ he kissed the side of my forehead.

I started laughing. That’s when I noticed everyone had stopped singing. My eyes burned. I was crying too. I blinked and looked at everyone staring at me. I had to run away. I had to. I ran towards my room. A panic attack was on its way and I knew it.

It was the last time anyone sung love songs and laughed around me before I got married.

26th July 2028. I happen to remember this date, not because it was the day I got married. But because from this day, I wasn’t legally ‘his’ anymore. And just the thought of it made me want to drop at my knees.

I sat there on my bed. There was a speaker and mic next to me and then I saw my mom walk in with the ‘nikah’ documents and a few other cousins entered in my room. She smiled at me. Again, there it was. The sad smile. I was a hyperventilating but in that moment, all of a sudden, I was numb. I felt nothing. She came next to me to hold my hand and that’s when I heard the Molvi Sahib and his words.

‘Do you accept Asad Farhan Khan as your husband?’

I, for the first time, got to know my caste was changing. I didn’t blame my parents as I wasn’t interested to talk about anything related to my marriage. You were supposed to say ‘qubool hai’ (I do) 3 times at the molvi sahib’s question. Everyone was expecting the same from me. I instead turned towards my mom, held her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

‘Amma, will I not be his anymore if I say these two words?’ Tears beginning to form in my eyes.

My auntie slapped my arm playfully, ‘you will be his IF you say them’ and laughed.

But my mom knew who I was talking about. Not the others. My mom sternly told me, ‘Bolo, Sarah.’ (Say it, Sarah)

That’s when the tears began to fall. And I don’t know when the words left my mouth. Every time I heard the molvi sahib ask me that question, my mom would nudge my arm and I would simply say ‘Qubool hai.’ Then it was Asad’s turn. I heard him say it. All 3 times. Without any hesitation. By that time I couldn’t stop crying like a baby. Everyone around me was crying so nobody asked me questions. And that slightly relieved me.

But they were crying with joy. Another burden of an unmarried girl, lifted off from the family. Must be some joy. I, on the other hand, was crying because I felt like someone had tied a knot around my neck and was choking me. They weren’t letting me live nor die.

Later that night, I was sent with Asad, to his house. I was sent to his room. I knew I was supposed to wait for him. But I was scared. Not shy. Just scared. To be looked at or touched.

As soon as I heard the door knob turn, I pretended to sleep. I heard him walk in. I was scared he would be angry on me for not waiting. I heard silence for a while and then some footsteps walking towards me. My heartbeat started to rise. No, he can not touch me. He can not. But then the footsteps became faint and stopped. I, being curious, slightly opened one eye to look, and there he stood in front of an open wardrobe. And I wanted to look a little more at the man I might possibly be spending the rest of my life with. He was tall, had really black hair that were slightly longer than my liking and seemed to have a really nice built by looking at his firm and broad shoulders flexing under his white shirt. He also seemed to be rich considering how well furnished and huge his room was.

I heard him turn around and quickly shut my eyes. He came over and covered me up with a sheet and walked away. After a while I opened my eyes upon hearing some snores that most definitely weren’t coming from the opposite side of the bed. I looked around and caught him sleeping on the couch in a position which seemed to be very uncomfortable for his tall body. A part of me was relieved. Very relieved. The other part of me wondered, out of all the girls this good looking and rich lad could have gotten, why did he end up marrying a girl who wouldn’t even look towards him and is so in love with another man for eternity? Wondering the same thing, I fell asleep in that bed, with all the makeup and my bridal dress on.

The sun rays falling on me woke me up from my deep slumber. I looked up at the clock to find out it had been 11 am.

I walked over towards the massive mirror to finally look at myself as a bride. But all I saw was a sad married girl, dried black tear stains over her face because of all the overloaded mascara and red lipstick smeared all over her mouth. The dress was particularly beautiful but dear lord, did it itch. I right then stripped down, just to find out scratches all over my legs and back because of all the sequins. Next, I removed my heavy jewellery to find red marks around my neck. Wasn’t really the brightest idea to sleep in these clothes and jewellery sigh.

I suddenly heard someone’s heavy footsteps walk up the stairs. Jesus, definitely Asad. His parents wanted him to have his own house for his personal life but I wasn’t really a huge fan of being alone in a huge house all day with this man. I rushed to lock the door.

And soon, I heard a knock. Knock? He was knocking at his own room’s door?

‘Sarah?’

I gulped. I didn’t have the courage to speak a word at that moment.

‘I just wanted to tell you, you can sleep as long as you please.’

I nodded but later realised how he couldn’t really see me.
I sighed with peace when I heard him walking away. After failing to look around for a while for my luggage, I started checking the wardrobes just to find my clothes neatly piled up and hanged in one of them. This was indeed a sweet gesture. I know how you are supposed to dress up and look nice for your husband at least in the first few days of your marriage, but there was only one man I would have done this for and that was most definitely not the man I was married to at the moment.

I took out a worn t-shirt and sweatpants and turned towards the bathroom for a much needed warm shower. And later, find out how much more miserable my life is really gonna be.

Author’s note: Okay, so I don’t know how but this is getting really long so there will be a part 3 too. Or who knows, a part 4 too. Just keep reading because I’m just really new at writing something other than philosophical and this is a new topic too but I’m liking it. I’m loving the feeling of writing again after so long. Love you guys x

Getting married to a man better than the one I was in love with – Part 1


I loved him only. Craved him only. Moreover, wanted to marry him only, if I ever considered marriage. But let’s just say things didn’t work out that way. One lovely afternoon, I was asked by my parents to get married to any man who I may like. I laughed at this.

Being a 29 year old daughter of Asian parents, their demand didn’t come as a shock to me. Although what made me laugh was the ‘any man who I may like’ part. It had been 10 years since the love of my life left me. Even if this sounds startling, I still loved him the same and never was I able to look up at another man.

I missed him. Terribly. I was never the same after him. It was as if he had drained life out of me.

But it had been too much. It had been too much of sleepless nights, stalking his social media, secretly contacting random people around him just to know he was still breathing. But most of all, it had been way too much of letting my parents endure the torture of seeing me die every single day.

Unfortunately or fortunately, I don’t know, I also happened to be their only daughter. They invested their money, love and dreams in me. A graceful, tall, extremely witty, bright girl graduated from one of the best colleges around the world. I was that girl. I ‘was’. So I’m sure it wasn’t easy to see that girl die every single day. It must be like seeing everything you ever lived for, go down the drain. I was sorry. Trust me I was very sorry but I didn’t do anything on purpose. It was as if I lost my own purpose. I started hating myself. I woke up every morning, saw my face, and even that reminded me of him. I didn’t want to dress up or go out anymore. I wanted to hate myself. But I forgot when I made my parents a part of my anxiety too.

I was so sure that he had forgotten me completely in between vodka shots and drunk talks with strangers all around the worlds. Or spending nights with different women. Women. I tensed up at the mere thought. I always did. I deep down knew this part was inevitable but dear lord, could I not bear it. Beautiful women. Wearing something in black or red of that skimpy material. My grip on the chair became stronger, till my knuckles went white for sure. Tears burned in my eyes taking in the entire image of him indulging with other women. He wasn’t mine. He never was. I wasn’t even slightly worth that honour but how strange was this that every time, I thought of another person touching him, it felt like someone was stealing something from me? Why did I feel anger when someone said something against him? Why did I get so possessive to defend him, the way a mother does when somebody says something very valid about her spoilt child?

‘Sarah! What happened?!’ I heard my mom scream and jerk me. Apparently I had zoned out. Once again. I was shaking and had spilled the entire tea on my shirt. I quickly composed myself, looked into my father’s eyes and told him, ‘find a man you like, and I’ll get married to him. I trust your choice more than I trust mine.’ And smiled slightly, and he smiled back. But why was it a sad smile?

Author’s note: I’m writing this after so long. And it’s special because it took a lot of courage for me to start writing again. I felt like I had almost lost this ability, but I’m trying. I know this is short but I promise the next part will be really long. In fact I wrote this part on my way from Washington to Maryland haha. Also, I promised a friend I’d write on this topic so I had to. This is mainly about an arranged marriage thing, which happens to be very common in our country. I have never really written about this or even about marriage basically so let’s see how this goes. I love trying out new topics and you giving it a read would mean a lot. Thank you!