"Don't worry Ammi, I have packed everything. Yes, I will call you as soon as I land in Islamabad. Do not worry. Khuda hafiz." Zoya told her anxious mother as she disconnected the call and headed for the ticket counter. One thing that Zoya had inherited from her mother was an over anxious brain. The brain that goes 'did I lock the main door' the moment she lies in the bed, the brain that makes her check the car doors twice after locking her car and leaving it in the parking lot.

Alizey, had to get married in Islamabad out of all the places. Could she not go for the beach wedding and well Karachi? On the top of that, they wedding dates (the milad and all additional function dates) were messed up that Zoya had to fly in. Did Alizey not know that Zoya hated planes? That she was a nervous flyer. Of course, she did. If Alizey wasn't her best friend, Zoya would have considered that stunt a mutiny. The trouble was that she could not ditch the wedding. Firstly, because that would make her a sucker friend. Secondly because there was no plausible excuse for it. It was her last working day at university. People were having winter break so she couldn't go with her usual excuse, "Sorry Alizey, I am working". Just her luck. Cursing Alizey for being an insensitive, forgetful friend Zoya dragged her suitcase as she headed for the ticket counter.

the agent who was wearing a white uniform with a fake smile plastered on his face asked Zoya. "Islamabad". Zoya replied with a genuine smile. People who smile when making a conversation were such a delight. They always made her at ease and relieved her from the social anxiety. After a minute of typing and going through the computer, the agent this time with a kind smile returned her e-ticket which Alizey had booked.he said.

Zoya nervously tapped on the counter as the agent typed some more. How much she would prefer to go by rail or bus, but right now she was short on time. "THANK YOU, ALIZEY," she thought. Zoya had checked the weather updates for Islamabad thrice since she had gotten to the airport, and she knew that it was going to be cloudy in Islamabad. It might even rain, and the information was making her super nervous. Could she just run back home now and lie that she had missed her flight? "Way too mature Zoya", her alter ego taunted.

"Your plane boards in 30 minutes, Miss Zoya Hussain." The clerk replied as he handed her the boarding pass. Thanking him, Zoya made her way to the waiting area. Sitting in the corner seat she looked around at the people who we were already seated there. Observing people and coming up with their stories was her favorite past time.

Infront of her, sat a couple who had was blessed with two boys. The wife was hovering around the 5-year-old, while the toddler in the husband's arms was crying. Zoya was sympathizing with the lady who was running around chasing after her child, but was also glad that the husband was helping instead of sitting idle like a typical Pakistani father who does 'nothing'. Zoya smiled at the lady, who now had gotten her hands on her devil of a child and was pulling him towards the seat, done with his shit. The little devil realized that she was looking and stuck out his tongue at Zoya.

Zoya would have ignored it if she wasn't a nervous wreck or bored. But since she was both and what was a better way to get her mind out of the fear, than being childish. She made a scary face in return shocking the kid, who just looked at her as if she had grown a tail. Satisfied with reaction she got, Zoya raised her eyebrows in a 'you-didn't-see-that-coming' expression. To give the devil some credit, he recovered from initial shock and pulled the corner of his mouth with both hands as he stuck out his tongue. His eyes screaming "beat-that".

'Game on honey', Zoya thought as she made the best evilest children scaring face she could. In return all she got was a shriek which turned into a cry. It would have felt like a victory, if his mother wasn't giving her the death glare. Could Zoya blame the mother? NO! Her toddler had just finished crying and now her 5-year-old was crying all thanks to her.

Everyone was looking at her with the 'are you kidding me?' question evident in the eyes. To make it worse, the toddler too joined his 5-year-old devil brother. Bad luck bad luck bad luck Zoya thought as she waited for the floor to open. Allowing her to sink in it, saving herself from the stares she was getting. None of that happened, to her utter disappointment. What would she give to die right now? Anything.

"This is the final boarding call for passengers: Irtaza Haider and Zoya Hussain, who are booked on flight PK372 to Islamabad. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Irtaza Haider and Zoya Hussain. Thank you." The announcement and her name being called brought her back.

Was she so lost that she nearly missed her flight? What a shame. Grabbing her suitcase, Zoya rushed to the boarding gate glancing apologetically at the couple who were now busy trying to get their children to calm down. Nearly after 10 steps from the waiting longue, Zoya halted. She felt guilty for leaving the couple in such a mess, which was indirectly her doing. She hoped that the other guy whose name she didn't get because she was busy fretting, would take little longer to board. Just so that she can make it in time.

Zoya rushed back to the couple whose harmony she had not so intentionally disturbed. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare your child. I thought it was a plaything, but he burst into tears. I am not implying that it's his fault. Here's a chocolate as a compensation. I am really sorry." Zoya said as she dug through her handbag and handed the little devil a chocolate.

Zoya had to voice that she wasn't implying that the devil was the one to blame because the husband was clearly pissed, grim lines had appeared on his forehead in a silent warning. Zoya took warning very seriously. The little devil sobered up as soon as he got a chocolate. Running back to her trolley bag, Zoya rushed to the boarding gate, silently hoping to miss her flight.

To say Zoya was disappointed to make it in time would not be completely false. She had an aisle seat, and the other passenger was already seated when she got there. Thanking the flight attendant who helped her with her carry on, Zoya finally got in her seat.

The man in the seat next to her hadn't even looked up yet. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with that kill for denim jacket which had fur on the collar and probably inside it. Her fellow passenger had a newspaper covering his face. As he turned the newspaper Zoya caught a glimpse of his dark eyes, stubble; a deep frown etched on his forehead. Zoya loved that denim jacket. She couldn't say the same about the man who hadn't been polite enough to greet or reply to her greetings.

Rude much? What does he think of himself? Should I educate him that we say, 'Wa Alaykum As-salam' when someone says 'As-Salam Alaykum'.

Why should I educate him? I am not his mother. His loss!

Also did it ever occur to you that he might not be Muslim......

Settling in her seat, Zoya observed him some more. Don't we all do that when someone is being excessively rude? No, we don't. Normal people ignore, Zoya wasn't normal people. He was wearing the caterpillar boots, and he was so engulfed in that newspaper as if it contained the secrets of worlds. Maybe it was an attempt to avoid her. As if she was dying to make an acquaintance out of him. Giving him a disapproving look Zoya looked around and focused her attention on the couple who were seated beside her. By the blush that crept on woman's face as the man sitting beside her laced her fingers through his, Zoya could tell that they were newlyweds, and they were going on a honeymoon.

Yes, Zoe study people around you and you'd miss the taking off. Her brain encouraged. But the minute, the T word crossed her mind, she began sweating.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight PK372 with service from Karachi to Islamabad. We are currently third in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately seven minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing PIA. Enjoy your flight." The announcement made her more nervous.

Why did Alizey choose PIA? PIA which held records for crash landing and crashes. What if khuda na khusata (God forbid) they crashed into the Margalla's. I am not scared. I am not scared. I am just. I am just.... frightened. No, actually I am a nervous flyer. It's not a big deal. Everyone gets nervous about one thing or the other. Don't we all get nervous when flying?" Zoya asked herself.

" No? Not everyone gets nervous." Said a steel hard dry voice which had a 'stop-being-a-child' undertone to it. With his hand in the air, the rude fellow on her left gestured towards the 7-year-old kid who was all smiles in his seat in-front of them. His other hand was cradling airpods, and realization dawned on her.

Maybe the guy hadn't heard my Salam. But like he hadn't heard her Salam could he not unlisten her thought out loud words? And if he had heard them, did he have to comment!

GIRL! HE just insulted you. FOCUS!

Zoya didn't care about how he had just insulted her, even though she was told to by her alter ego. She instead focused on the toddler who was clapping. We all have heard the poem "If you are happy and you know it clap your hands?" the kid was practicing it.

Okay kid I know you are excited, but this is no time to clap. Please sit down. You'd know it when you are older.

DON'T GET NERVOUS. FOCUS. FOCUS ON ANYTHING. THE RUDE STRANGER.

Directing her thoughts towards the stranger, Zoya observed that he had that accent which usually belonged to the rich kid who first went to Beacon House for Olevel's and then abroad for further studies. In plain English his accent was British enough to confuse her, if only she hadn't herself went to the Lahore Grammar School. Thank you, Baba, for sending me to LGS. Zoya thought. She was being her judgmental self-looking too much into a situation against her new year resolution, which wasn't so new mainly because she had that same resolution since last 3 years.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I am just a nervous flyer." Zoya rambled as she looked at the source of that voice only to encounter the most beautiful face she had ever seen. Dark bushy eyebrows were framing his black eyes. Those black eyes which Zoya was finding alluring, gave her a "you-annoying-brat" glare as he turned back to looking out the window. His black hair were outgrown and needed a trim as they were reaching his left eyebrow. Zoya wondered if they blurred his vision sometimes. His mouth was perfect, no imbalanced lips. His lower and upper lip were nearly of same proportion unlike her where her lower lip was larger than her upper one, all thanks to her biting it when she got nervous.

You know that is not the reason. You were born with a bigger lower lip, and it has got nothing to do with you biting them.

Still Zoya like to blame that imperfection of her on herself rather than accepting the fact that it was God gifted. Zoya wasn't aware of this imperfection of hers until Alizey had not so politely pointed that out when she was applying lip color. Since that day onwards, whenever Zoya looked at herself in the mirror and then looked at her lips, her eyes lingered on them. And then she would laugh remembering Alizey's words.

The airplane making sounds was now making a tight knot of fear in Zoya's stomach.

It's about to take off. Please don't crash please. Please. Please.

She closed her eyes and began counting, something she usually did to calm her nerves. She lost it at 389 as the plane made those thundering sound it makes when the wheels lose contact with the runway. Every tiny sound made her lose her breath.

After the worst five minutes of her life, the plane was airborne and Zoya tried to breathe normally as relief washed over her. Only landing is left now, you haven't puked yet nor have you cried or shouted embarrassing yourself like you could have. Bravo Zoya you did it. Zoya encouraged herself. She had to do it herself since the man sitting beside her wouldn't. If their roles were switched, she would help him. Not because he was the most handsome man, she had laid eyes on considering she had seen a lot of handsome men in the university. Maybe 5 percent due to his handsome ness. But only 5%, the rest because she had exceptionally good manners and was empathetic.

Fifteen more minutes and we'll land. Just 15 more minutes. Fifteen minutes only!

Zoya pacified herself. She had been doing it since the take off. She had spent an hour and 45 minutes, mostly fretting and then thinking about the rude jerk beside her who had given her nothing except cold disgusted glares.

Does it cost people to be kind? Why are the handsome jerks so, so ungentlemanly and rude? Where are all the nice guys? She wanted to ask but kept her mouth zip tight. For she didn't want to receive a smoldering gaze which could freeze the hell.

The guy beside her minded his business throughout the flight, not uttering a word of kindness to her or any word at all, giving her look of disapproval every now and then. Twice she thought her dupatta was misplaced or that her camisole was showing, thanks to his glare. He made her feel like she had stepped on his freshly polished shoes or puked on him which thankfully she hadn't.

She couldn't say time passed in a blink because she had glanced at her wristwatch every 3 minutes. Something she did when she was anxious and wanted something to be over. Like the Pakistan Studies class in 7th grade, which was more of a make fun of Zoya and company. She never knew what was wrong with Miss Syra or why she hated Zoya's friends and her. What Zoya did know was that Miss Syra had once complained to her mother that she kept glancing at her wristwatch throughout the lesson, as if Zoya wanted Miss Syra 'out of there'. When her mother had informed her, Zoya wanted to shout, "If only she'd take the hint." But hadn't because her father was glaring at her with a disappointed look on his face. As the memory dissolved in her mind, she smiled.

To give herself some credit, Zoya hadn't turned out to be a frustrated teacher. Well, she was frustrated and most of all done with all the lemons of her life, but she never took that frustration out on her pupil like some teacher did. Nor she was a teacher, who publicly embarrassed her students to even the score (for whatever messed up reasons). She knew, whatever the teachers said stuck with the child for a lifetime. At least it had stayed with her. And she didn't want to scar her pupil like she was.

The Big-Bang-Theory which was playing on the screen hadn't been able to distract her despite it been her favorite show.

Maybe I should start counting. Fifteen minutes are like what?

After doing the mental math's which she was great at, she came up with the answer.900 Just start with 1001 and go to 1900 and we will be in Islamabad before I know it. Zoya told herself as she began counting. The more they were getting closer to the landing the more nervous Zoya was getting.

'1356' Zoya said as her head jerked up. Was that a bump? Did they hit? Her anxious brain asked questions. DONT PANIC ZOYA.GO back to your counting. Zoya told herself. But thanks to her anxiety she forgot where she was. Was it 1459? Zoya was still trying to get a grip of the number and herself when the plane began experiencing turbulence. "You can panic now" Her alter ego screamed. Zoya didn't need to be told twice, she was panicking already. Losing her calm.

Oh God, Oh God. We are falling. I am going to die. No! No!

She hadn't imagined dying like this. But then, who dreams of dying. And what does it matter if it wasn't the ideal heart failure? She was dying and she had no one around her who cared enough. No goodbye for her. Hell, when few hours earlier she wanted to die after embarrassing herself. She hadn't. Not that she had completely overcome that incident they were crashing down. HOW INCONVINENT IS DEATH? She thought with a sudden surge of anger which was overpowered by the anxiety and the fear of dying.

"Think positive Zoya. Na-umeedi kufar hai. (Hopelessness is disbelieving.)" She told herself, but all the positivity went out the door when the captain made the announcement.

"'We're currently hitting some clear-air turbulence, and things may be unsteady for a while. I have switched on the seatbelt signs and would ask that you all return to your seats and get your seatbelts on. As you must be aware by now, we're having some difficulties in controlling the plane due to the cloudy weather. We're attempting an emergency landing in Islamabad. We'll be landing in approximately six minutes. We've got about as much control over the plane as we can get. Please review your emergency procedures. We will do everything in our power to get everyone to the ground, but we need your cooperation." The pilot who sounded confident when he had introduced him in the beginning, had told them it was going to be safe flight now sounded stressed. Maybe it was time to panic.

They were actually going to die. It was a bad dream. It was not even good enough to be classified as a dream minus the handsome stranger, who in the dream would have been gentlemen experiencing a love-at-first-sight with HER! It was a nightmare, alright. A highway to hell. Why? Why? Zoya thought as she lost the last ounce of resolve she had in herself.

Zoya looked around to gauge the expressions and the sentiments of the fellow passengers because the man sitting beside her was expressionless as a robot. The kid, who was clapping initially at the take off now sat clutched to his mother's chest. Not so happy are you now? I got this new jingle. If you are dying and you know it, recite your Kalma! She wanted to shout at the kid or at the stranger who had told her everyone wasn't afraid. Guess what? Everyone was.

I am going to die. I am going to die alone and be miserable. Ya Alllah. Abhi mainay dekha he kya hai duniya main. (What have I seen in this world) She repeated the mantra in her head.

"Please keep calm and don't panic." the captain was saying. "We will be ..." But Zoya couldn't process anything. Keep calm? Zoya couldn't breathe, let alone keep calm. What were they going to do? Were they all supposed to just sit and what recite Kalma-e-Shahadat while the plane bucked like an out-of-control elephant that got bit by an ant in his trunk?