"He wanted to marry her, but he's my husband."
"She's beautiful, kind, caring, loving, but I wish she wasn't my wife."
*****
Tara Hamid was born and bred in an average family: loving, caring, with just the right amount of family drama. She dreams...
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I had a hot husband-friend, no doubt. Again, Ma Sha Allah.
"You look good, Ma Sha Allah." He took my hand in his as we began to head for the entrance.
"You look decent too." I shrugged. "Ma Sha Allah."
He grinned. "We're not good at compliments, are we?"
"If there was a Compliment Exam, we would fail repeatedly." I agreed.
All gazes were on us as we entered the hall, and I felt happy knowing that my family was in there somewhere. It was a trend lately to turn off the lights, and leave the spotlight on the bride and groom as they entered and walked to the stage.
I hope Zoha is sitting down. The poor girl is so clumsy that she would fall even if she's just standing in the dark.
As we had entered, I had slid my arm through Zain's. My heels were too high and I didn't want to fall myself. "If I fall, I'm taking you down with me." I told my husband.
"And why's that?"
"Because friends do things together." I whispered.
He shook his head. "You know what, Tara? I'm really looking forward to an interesting life with you."
"As you should be." I said, causing him to chuckle.
****
"Allah! Tara, you look so beautiful, Ma Sha Allah!" Zoha complimented me.
Zoha and Misha had dinner with me on stage, as my parents had dinner with my in-laws. Zain was off somewhere, greeting friends.
"I know! She doesn't look like that argumentative tomboy sister of ours!" Misha agreed.
"I am happy to prove you wrong." I twisted her ear.
"Appi!" Misha whined to Zoha, who lightly smacked my shoulder.
Zoha looked amazing (Ma Sha Allah) in a pink lace sari. Her hair had grown out and was straightened as it hung loose around her face. She had done a smokey-eyed look on her eyes, which added to her natural beauty.
Misha, wore a sky blue churidar suit with silver embroidery. I know that she liked to put as little effort as possible to dress up. She's pretty lazy and unbothered like me, to be honest, when it comes to fashion. However, she is also a natural beauty, Ma Sha Allah.
"Misha!" Mama called out to her and she got up and immediately went to our mother.
"So?" Zoha asked, softly. "Are you happy, Tara?"
I bet this was Mama's idea; to get Zoha to mildly interrogate me, I mean. "Alhumdulillah, I'm happy."
"Are you coming to Dado's home with us? Mama has arranged a room for you and Zain Bhai." She grabbed my hand and began to examine my rings and mehendi, in a typical sisterly way.
