She had lost the count of amount of the times they talked on the phone yet she couldn't get enough of him. It was as if she have become addicted of being on the phone with him or long calls have become a tradition of their relationship. Their relationship that seemed to be going nowhere until now, that felt a mere flicker of a final hope, about which Ibrahim was always scared, will blow in single puff of air from Ziba, but the thought never crossed his mind that a flicker that could be spurn in a single breath can enlighten the darkness if given a chance, and Ziba was now ready to give him a chance.

Sometimes, when Ziba isn't on phone with him or trying to to not miss him just after they had got off from phone, she would helplessly lay down on mattress and stare the black out TV. The memories of Ibrahim and the old times play before her beheld. How they met one day in a charity program of her university, how he kept approaching her, how he ran after her and when she was about to confess her feelings for him, he pulled back and how he broke her heart. This was the story for another day, right now, her husband is coming and she wasn't ready for meeting him yet because hell! they never stood eye to eye as husband and wife. It is going to be hard as hell.

After the heart quacking torture of three straight weeks, she was finally going to meet her husband, more likely, the first time as husband. She don't think, she could stand that but... She was still fumbling with her over thoughts when the phone rang and her Ibrahim's number flashes across.

"There is a good News and a bad news for you." He told after they said their greetings,

"The bad one first."

"My flight is extended to tomorrow night."

"Haw? That's mean you aren't reaching here tomorrow." That's mean, she still have time to prepare herself for meeting him, really, like a spouse. "So, when will you be here?"

"Maybe day after tomorrow, I don't know!"

"okay. Tell me complete schedule, I will meet you at airport."

"Will you? Really?" the shock sparkled in her voice,

"Yes, what is so surprising in this?"

"Are you able to meet me in real?"

"As if I haven't met you in real."

"No, of course you have but we aren't termed together as spouse in a room instead we were two strange roommates sharing a room." She didn't know, how to answer this.

"It.. It won't be.. Be that different... Umm.. You know."

"We will see that when you are finally locked with me in the room, Misses Ibrahim."

"Okay, enough. Don't be so clingy already. The good news is yet to be told."

"That I have a surprise for you!"

"And what's that?"

"Normal people don't expose surprises, dumbass."

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Did you just call me dumbass?" She screeched,

"What if I did?"

"I. AM. HANGING. UP. THE. PHONE. RIGHT. NOW!"

"DO. IT. RIGHT. NOW!"

He challenged. Hence, she did. The next thing he felt was the muffling silence sprawling out of the phone. She knew, he knew that she had thrown her phone right after hanging up onto him and cleaning the cleaned room while huffing furiously-whilst, doubtlessly, internally waiting for his appeasing call.

Unable to found anymore mess to clean, she swung the doors of her closets open to throw the clothes and arrange them back in there when there was a tiny blue sticky note hanging there.

Down!

Huh!? Now, what does that means? She pulled the sticky note out and frowned. It wasn't here until the last time she opened. Her eyes grew in shock, he is here, already. Isn't he?
Before following the instruction, she picked up the thrown phone and dialed his number back, completely forgetting: she is mad at him!

As per the instructions say, she was fumbling the key in the drawers downwards while the ring went across her phone.
There she pulled the drawers open and there he attended the call.

"Hellooo?" There was a small velvety box with a pink sticky note at the top,

"What's this joke?"

"What joke, weren't you mad at me?" She scowled at the note and smiled as she read it.

"Apparently, I am but whom you made write this notes and put it over here?"

"You get the note?"

"Yes, I do. Still mad though."

"Go ahead, read it."

"Wha.. What?"

"Read that, Ziba."

"Umm.. Okay.
Janoom,
How much do you resembles with a moon! I am allured by your each look since the very first day, trying to sing the song. I fell for you right away."

"And?" he encouraged as she lowered,

"And.. And you know, Ibrahim, you have wrote it, I know already."

"Read it, Ziba. Why are you always this annoying?"

"Choose your words wisely, Mister Ibrahim because you haven't said sorry for last time. I am afraid for you that you will have to sleep at the older position as you did instead of a new position you are probably expecting. So, Think. Before. You. Chirp."

"Okay, baby, I would like to change my words. Why are you always this adoring?" she grimaced while reading the note again,

"And you are smiling, so read it first so that we can smile together."

"so, My dear Moon,
I love every single bit of you regardless of anything you say or not. I love you then, I love you now and I will love you until I will not be able to live anymore to love. I just hopelessly love you!"

"I just hopelessly love you too, Mrs. Ziba Ibrahim." She quacked almost dropping the box and phone from her hand, realizing what have she done mindlessly,

"Nonono! When did I said that?"

"You said, didn't you?"

"No, yes, No. I mean, I did but I was reading your stupid sticky note, so.."

"So you commit that you love me."

"Shut up! I did not."

"Why are you embarrass, dont you love me?"

"No, why? I don't know.. Umm.. Bye."
Before she could hang up the phone, her nose itched with hard cologne but she couldn't breath because her breath have hitched in the space...
Damn it!
~

Hello khwateen o Hazrat,

Here is a new update and hopefully another will be there very soon/.