Homesick

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Ayan's PoV:

My first week in New York mainly consisted of me moving into a one bedroom apartment and getting used to living alone. Cooking food was no big deal because I had learned to do that when I was a teenager, thanks to Mom who had made it clear that all her sons should become self dependent in every way possible. Work started at eleven in the morning, giving me enough time to work out, have breakfast, clean myself and the house before leaving it.

As the days progressed and I stepped into the third month of my stay here, I had already gotten used to the environment at my office.
My colleagues were nice. I had even managed to make some friends. My role involved hiring new staff, training them, setting goals for them and helping them in achieving it. It wasn't easy but I had chosen it for myself and I wasn't gonna complain about it.

“Here,” I heard a voice as I typed an email on my laptop to be sent to the interns, “your tea, Mister.” I looked up and found Cora hovering over my desk with a cup in her hand. She extended it to me and I took it after thanking her.

“Today is Liam’s birthday,” she said and seated herself across from me. I took a sip of the tea and tasted a faint flavour of apple in it. It sucked. But I swallowed it with the complaint that threatened to roll out of my tongue.

“Hmm, I wished him in the morning,” I replied as I pressed send.

“He’s throwing a party tonight and all of us are going,” she exclaimed, “You too, Ay.”

Cora was a couple of years older than me. She was tall and wore heels everyday. Her hair was always tied up in new styles. She had come to receive me when I landed in New York and had shown me the building of my current apartment.

Liam was her boyfriend who happened to work with us. He was a proper American who loved Pizzas and Burgers and ate them at least once on a daily basis. There was always a can or two of Coke on his table.

“What?” Cora questioned when I didn't say anything to her.

“I don't know,” I shrugged, “I don't think there's any point in me joining you guys.” I took a pause to arrange my words carefully, “No offence to you guys but I don't consume alcohol and I'd only be standing there awkwardly with nothing to do except staring at the exit date.”

Cora rolled her eyes at me. She tried to persuade me by offering to not drink and stay by my side throughout the evening but I refused, knowing that I'd not be able to enjoy myself at a place like that. Dejected, she left me but not before promising to murder me someday.

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“Good night, Ay,” Mr Ove, my boss, waved as he left me alone. He had been reluctant to give me the extra load of work which I had asked him but complied as I assured him that I'd be fine. It was half past nine and I had the choice of going to the bar Cora had told me about but I was not in the mood. I wasn't sleepy either which annoyed me a bit because that was the whole point of me exhausting myself.

When I was younger, I had never thought that I would overwork myself but here I was, elongating my work hours from eight hours to ten, sometimes eleven, just so I would get tired and sleep right after reaching home.

Home.

The word felt too heavy and fancy for something like the box I was living in. And by “box” I didn't intend to show my distaste towards the size of that place. No, I was conscious enough to be thankful for having at least a place to stay in this big city. It was rather the loneliness and the feeling of alienation that made me restless. It was the fact that I didn't get to have chai like I used to that made me angry at this stupid city and its stupid flavoured teas. And the shortening of my already short name to a stupid sound was like a cherry on top that I wanted to crush and throw in a dustbin.

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