Title: The Wrong Message
The Wrong Message
I ruined my life at 2:13 AM over burnt lentils.
Meant to text my mom:
"Mom, the lentils burnt. What do I do?"
Sent it to:
+92 300 XXX 1234.
Reply in 3 seconds:
Add water. Call it biryani. Trust me. — Hamza
Hamza.
Wrong number.
Too much confidence.
Me: My roommate stole my charger.
Hamza: Hide her shampoo. Start the war.
And that’s how we became text buddies.
Misunderstanding #1
Me: My boss is the worst today.
Hamza: Quit. Then don’t. Power move.
He thought I meant his boss.
He actually did it.
Misunderstanding #2
Hamza: My mom says thanks for the cooking tips.
Me: Aww, tell her hi!
Now his mom thinks I’m his girlfriend.
She sent me a voice note:
"Beta, make sure he eats vegetables."
Misunderstanding #3
Me: Send me that biryani recipe?
Hamza: Sends a selfie holding a plate.
Me: That's you.
Hamza: That's the only biryani I own.
By week two, we had to meet.
His mom wanted to meet me.
My mom wanted to know who "Hamza" was.
Tea shop. 7:00 PM.
He showed up carrying a white plastic bag.
I had my phone in my hand like evidence.
We looked at each other and said at the exact same time:
"You don't look like a biryani expert."
"You look like you burn water."
We laughed until the waiter told us to be quiet.
It's been two months.
Hamza: Burnt anything today?
Me: Just my dignity. Worth it.
Wrong number.
Right chaos.
