"I'm sorry. I didn't know," was all I could say when Nick told me this.

"Allow it, love. Abs' a swindler. If he can steal my story and get away with it, he can get whatever he wants by swindling people," Nick assured me. "Have you met his father?"

"He never introduces me to him," I admitted.

"Figures."

"So, what's like growing up with Abs?" I asked curiously.

Nick paused for a moment before answered, "Pretty much close. Abs and I are both Hazaras, it's a minor ethnic group in Afghanistan. If you look up on Hazaras, you'd understand that we don't often get the same cut as others, oftentimes oppressed by the Pashtuns. So, that's why we migrated for better life.

"Abs didn't know English at all when we first met. I was eight back then, I think. I couldn't speak Persian either. Neither of my parents ever taught me how to speak Dari (Persian), so during our first few playdates together, his parents had to be there translating our every conversation."

"Like an interpreter?"

"Yeah, that sort," he replied. "Abs had no friends back then because refugee kids weren't really sought after. He was vulnerable, always getting picked on by older bigger kids. And just like you, I'd be there saving his ass from being whacked. The problem with Abs is that he's a pussy. He likes to take advantage at other people's expenses."

"So, what exactly did you steal from him?" I probed further. "He said you had something that belong to him."

"I didn't steal anything from him. He had my mother's ring and I thought want it back," he answered.

Another new contradicting story. This time Nick accused Abs of stealing his mom's ring. Again, which side of the truth are the actual truth? Thinking about this had given me additional headache to mull over.

"Okay, talking about him doesn't solve my insomnia," I declared. "Besides, Abs' a total jackass, thinking about him sickens me."

"Well, let's talk about something else then," Nick replied to my bitter remarks in a light tone.

"I shouldn't have wasted my time just to find out that I ain't worthy of any man," I continued ranting. "I think it would be better if I come out as a lesbian."

"Woah, woah! Stop contaminating this room with your shit talking, fam!" Nick objected, propping himself up with his elbow, facing me. "First of all, your grandpa loves you very much and still finds you valuable."

"He loves me by default."

"Even so, he still finds you worthy. Secondly, you don't need anyone especially men to verify your self-worth. And finally, never resort to homosexuality to solve your internal issues."

"Why not? Milla thinks I'm irresistible," I opposed.

"Milla never ask you to be gay. She wants you to be you," Nick pointed out.

"I don't want to be me. I'm tired of being me," I complained. "Every time I'm being me, I get people telling me I'm a sag or hideous."

"It's because they're hideous."

"You called me hideous when I came to your office in skirts."

Nick let a long pause, responding to my statement. "So that's what it is. My apologies, I wasn't able to finish my sentence at that time. I meant to say, 'hideously stupid' but I couldn't get myself together."

"But you called me hideous," I repeated.

"Hideously stupid. There's a difference," he defended. "If it's any consolation, I find you most valuable, like the sun's gravitational pull. You're so precious that if you die, my world will stop revolving."

"But you said I'm not like any of your escorts," I elicited. "I'm not up to their class. And you said that I'm ugly and unattractive."

"Because you're far superior than being labelled as escorts," Nick clarified. "But I never said you're ugly and unattractive."

"Bollocks! You said I'm not beautiful and never find me beautiful."

Nick gave another pause before answered, "Yes, I did. I don't find you beautiful Zahida. I find you majestic."

I went speechless and couldn't find any more ammunition to argue. I wasn't even sure how to respond to Nick calling me majestic either. I turned away from him in defeat, tucking the duvet up to my nape. The talk wasn't really a talk; it was a deliberation to shut me up.

"Any more motion to debate? I'm all pumped," Nick said optimistically.

"No, go to sleep." I ordered.