Chapter

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Chapter 11

Inaya POV

The first dress trip was Michelle Bridal Boutique, which had everything for wedding purposes. My mother and two aunties took me to a corner where they tried on outfits.

So far, they've served champagne and provided excellent customer service. But anxieties remain within me. I wonder whether Karib was okay; perhaps I should have left someone to look after her. At the very least, they would phone me and inform me that she was leaving. But I don't think I could handle going home to an empty house and perhaps not seeing her for another week or two.

"Um, do you typically pay for the champagne?" I asked Fatima and Divya. My mother and two aunties had hurried out to find some dresses.

"No, it's sort of their way of being polite. Your temptation to purchase a dress increases with their niceness." Divya explained. She really knows her way around these bridal things.

"You're wealthy, therefore you don't have to worry about paying or not." In contrast, Fatima stated. I filled my glass with another drink. I hope this helps to ease my work-up nerves.

"Rich or not, I'm not purchasing a dress today." I exhaled. I simply want to go home without them following behind me.

"What if a dress caught your eye?" Divya asked.

"I'm going to leave things be." With my mind racing, every garment will appear as slanderous. I wish I hadn't had to try on any. "I just want to try on at least five dresses and return home."

"You are the worst bride ever. So flipping boring." Fatima rebuked under her breath.

"You simply don't understand." Nobody does. All I care about is the well-being of my soon-to-be wife. The dress, the party, the wedding, and the $75 million can all wait.

"You are just being ungrateful. Many ladies can only wish to be in your shoes."

"Could you stop?" I said, taking down the drink. I could feel a headache coming on, like an irritating pimple on my face. "I'm happy."

"Turn that frown into a grin then." She gritted.

"Fatima, it's reasonable for her to be agitated." Divya, jump in to save my neck from getting slashed by my sister.

"Thank you." I said, gazing at Fatima. Divya is the only one who receives the memo.

"All I know is, you better make me the damn bridesmaid." Fatima said enthusiastically, fanning her face with her palm. "You better not make me wear an ugly dress, either."

I didn't think about bridesmaids or anything like that. Because I was thinking that in the long run, I could just hire a wedding planner to handle everything from the dress to the wedding celebration itself. In fact, next month I was scheduled to contact one and determine which package I would work with.

Karib and I have not discussed plans for the engagement party or wedding. We haven't addressed anything, which is why I didn't want to make any moves on my end.

"What's taking them so long?" Fatima grumbled as she attempted to rise from the soft white sofa. "I will go check on them."

"Something tells me that you won't be trying on five outfits." Divya said. I groaned and nodded. "Don't listen to Fatima; I know you and her are sisters, but..."

"She can be a genuine bitch." I muttered, laughing.

"Well, that's a little harsh, but something like that. Whatever dress you pick for your bridesmaids will look lovely."

"You believe so because I lack fashion sense." I'll just fling them in a coordinated dress, I don't care. I simply want to know that Karib didn't flee like she did a week before. My weak heart can't handle it now, and it couldn't withstand it before.

"Uhm...this may sound strange, given that I don't know you, but I'd want you to be one of my bridesmaids."

Her eyes widened in surprise at my query. "Nevermind; I'm aware how it sounds..."

"No, I'd love to. Is only that I never expected you to ask, you know."

I grinned. So far, she's the only person I've seen with a pleasant vibe; everyone else was a total jerk. Bridesmaids are meant to be supportive and nice. Given that I don't have any friends. My aunties, mother, and Fatima have to be braidmaids, and something tells me that will be a catastrophe.

It was already a mess when I saw all four women breaking the corners with about six outfits in each hand. I swiftly stand.

"I need some air." I muttered to Divya. "Tell them I will be back shortly." Divya was right; it was not five outfits, but rather 54 dresses in all. I was already feeling exhausted. My fingers quickly delved through my handbag, looking for my phone. I needed to hear her voice. I needed to establish that she was still at home, waiting for me. As the phone rings, I frantically tug on my lips, hoping she'll answer.

But the call went straight to voicemail...

I let out a sob, my trembling fingers pressed on the call tab, again. She left me for a week, and I became as frail as an eggshell.

"Just answer me, Karib."

She didn't answer.

"Hey, Inaya, they're waiting for you." Divya said. I nodded, without turning around. "Tell them to wait. I'm calling someone." I remarked, calling her phone again. If she had just told me what was going on, I wouldn't have been so stressed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just wanted some fresh air." Everything felt stuffy. In fact, I felt completely smothered by my thoughts, family, and everything.

"I'll tell them you need another five minutes."

I nodded. I was attempting to ignore the squeezy sensation that was pressing on my tummy. This was due to my excessive pondering. Did she run off again?

*******

It wasn't until 7 o'clock at night that I managed to leave the bridal store. I attempted to hasten everyone by telling them how sick I was, but no one cared. All everybody cared about was their opinion on what dresses I should wear. None of the dresses felt comfortable on my skin. Not even I felt comfortable in my own skin.

I wanted to yell at everyone to leave me alone because I didn't want them to arrange my wedding.

I wasn't even sure I wanted a large wedding with the entire town invited. I just need her.

I sniffled as I walked into the darkened home. "Karib!" I called, and my heart broke knowing she wasn't there. If she was, the lights would have been turned on. "Karib!" I wept when I turned on the lights in the home. My gaze quickly focused on a piece of paper that I was certain had been placed on the center table. It would have been better if she had phoned. I opened the paper, which reads.

I'll see you soon. Work came up. If I don't come back, don't come looking for me. I am OK. I love you.

Karib.

I scrunched the paper into a tight ball and flung it near the bin, which was crammed in a corner of the kitchen. My body sagged onto the counter. I didn't want to tell myself the truth, but I knew she had left again. I knew I was going to call her phone till the voicemail was filled. I knew these days were going to be difficult, just dissecting the worst. 

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