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.