Life Of Raheel Awan

Previously

…The Inner Critic, that ever-present, impeccably dressed pessimist residing in the dusty attic of my mind, would probably scoff at that. “Laugh it off?” it would sneer, adjusting its non-existent monocle. “Failure is a stain, Raheel. A permanent blemish on the pristine canvas of your potential.” “Oh, shut up,” I’d mutter, usually while tripping over a rug or sending an email to the wrong person. “You’ve been saying that since I tried to bake a cake for my mum’s birthday and accidentally created a small, smoke-filled inferno.” “Precisely!” the Critic would retort, its voice echoing