“You haven't ironed my dress yet?” Muzaira came out of the bathroom, wearing a robe, screaming loudly enough to make Ashrah's ears bleed.
“I have done it, Muzaira.” Ashrah stopped arranging clothes in her wardrobe and took a neatly ironed cloth and extended to her. “Here,”
Muzaira snatched the dress from her hand and examined it whether she had done it well or not. “What is this?” She threw the dress at Ashrah. “You don't know how to iron a cloth?” She rebuked.
“I have done it well.” Ashrah folded the dress well and gave back to her.
“No, it's not.” Muzaira wanted to make her a servant literally. She would go any extent to make it real. “Iron it well.” She smirked when Ashrah nodded her head.
“And after arranging my clothes make sure here is neat and tidy.” She ordered around her t
