The notification buzzed softly. A message from Noori.
"Hey Yumna, what's up?"
"I'm good. What about you?"
"Ugh… just trying to sort out the disaster after exams. Everything's a mess!"
"Tell me about it. My room looks like a paper tornado hit it."
Yumna glanced around her room—scattered notes on the bed, empty wrappers on the desk, clothes hanging halfway out of the cupboard. The fan overhead spun lazily, barely fighting the afternoon heat.
"So, did you clean your room yet?"
"I was about to… but then my phone kidnapped me."
"Phone kidnapped you? Haaaan? Something fishy fishy going on!" Noori sent a voice note, laughing hysterically.
"Noooo! It's not like that. He's just asking about my papers."
"Okay okay…" But the excitement in Noori's voice was impossible to ignore.
"You clean your room, and I'll do the same. Then we'll talk properly."
"Sure!"
Call ended. But the phone didn't rest. A new chat blinked on the screen—Yameen.
Yameen: "So… what's the next plan now?"
Yumna: "Nothing special. I'm just planning to relax. I need a break."
Yameen: "So no more tests?"
Yumna: "Not for now. I'm on an exam detox."
Yameen: "Haha! Exhausted already?"
Yumna: "Yes, completely..."
The conversation flowed like a quiet river—easy, unhurried. Yameen asked about her plans, recommended a few books, even joked about her "post-exam trauma." Yumna found herself smiling more than usual, typing slower, thinking before each reply.
Then reality hit—her room.
She sighed, sent Yameen a quick "BRB, cleaning up" and tossed the phone aside.
She tied her scarf loosely, pulled her long, silky hair back, and stood at the doorway like a general surveying a battlefield.
"Where do I even start?" she muttered, picking up scattered notebooks.
She began with her notes, sorting them by subjects. The process was oddly satisfying. She sniffed a few pages that still smelled like fresh ink, smiled at a doodle she had drawn during a boring lecture, and paused at a random love quote scribbled in the margin of her literature notes.
"Not now," she said to herself with a laugh, pushing it aside.
"Where do I keep these?" She looked around.
Her eyes caught an empty cardboard box in the corner.
"Perfect."
One by one, she slid the organized notes into the box and stacked it near the shelf. She swept the floor, wiped the desk, fluffed the pillows. Then, she walked to the bathroom and took a long, refreshing shower.
Steam clung to the mirror as she dried her hair, tied it in a messy bun, and walked out in comfy clothes.
From the kitchen came her mother's voice:
"Yumna, lookfor the lunch my dear ."
"Okay, Mum."
She walked barefoot across the cool tiles, opened the pot lids, and set the plates.
"Lunch is ready!" she called out.
The family gathered. Conversations buzzed around the table—random, warm, familiar. After the meal, she washed the utensils, then made her favorite black tea. She poured it into her favorite mug, the one with the half-faded floral print, and carried it to her room.
The room, now clean and scented faintly with lemon floor cleaner, welcomed her like a fresh page.
She unplugged her phone. The screen lit up.
Three messages from Noori. Two from Yameen.
She smiled.
She opened Noori's messages first—snapshots of her halfway-cleaned room with chaotic captions.
Then her thumb hovered over Yameen's name. She clicked.
A picture. A streak. A message.
It was him.
Looking directly into the camera.
Wearing a grey shirt, his hair slightly messy, and a thoughtful gaze that made Yumna pause.
She stared into his eyes like they held answers to questions she hadn't even asked yet. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
Then finally, a simple message:
"Hi…"
And just like that, a soft, uncontainable smile spread across Yumna's lips.