Once In A Blue Moon

01 Delicate

"He's a good man, jaan. Give him a chance at least."

She scoffs and starts taking off her bangles, trying to get rid of any excessive jewelery she can. "Every man is a good man when you don't know him enough. Would you have married him were you in my shoes?"

"I'm already married."

"But if you weren't?" She fixes her eyes. "Or would you have married my brother were he an empty pocketed, no-good-to-earn man with an ex and a child?" she dares.

Ferozeh pinches the skin between her eyebrows in exasperation before she parallels her stare. "Yes, I would have. Because I didn't marry your brother for his looks and riches and you know it. Mughis is a man with a good heart and I love him for that."

She goes back to taking off her bangles with disinterest. "Even if I believe somehow you miraculously fell in love with my oh-so-serious and uptight brother, love isn't something to pay your bills and make life easier." She tosses the bangles to the bed and meets her gaze again. "And even if it did, I, for one, do not love the man I'm forced into marrying. The rational and logical part of me can never accept this concept. I've to be insane to take such risks, especially with a secondhand man who comes with a luggage. Not to mention whose father has disowned him."

Ferozeh gives her a sympathetic look, this time faraway and disheartened, as if she doesn't recognize her. "This is the most disrespectful thing you can say about him. What has become of you? Look at you," she gestures with her hand towards her, "you were never like this."

She refrains from scowling and breathes deeply through her nose. All the years of running through the hospital wards with tight patience and plastered smiles have taught her enough about how to stay in balance even when on your toes. She has saved many lives; she can save her own too.

The first thing upon arriving at Dublin airport will be to get rid of her aesthetically unpleasant wedding ring. It definitely isn't up to her standards-- too cheap for her. Her man has zero taste in fashion, she gathers, and cringes mentally. But then, that man might just afford so much. Why didn't her father pay him to at least get a good ring and save their shame?

"You don't understand me, Ferozeh," she dismisses the conversation with her sister-in-law, her so called best friend, who has always been closer to her than her own sister, but not this time. "You've sided with my family on this and not me. But I don't blame you." She gives her another smile, sardonic now. "My family is your family too. I should've known you'd stand with your husband than me when time comes."

"No, jaan—"

She shakes her head and cuts her off. "I can't be upset with you for choosing lala (brother) over me; he's your husband. I only want someone to understand me too. I did agree to marrying Aurang because mama and baba wanted me to-- because if my marriage made everyone happy then why not? But no one told me all these things about him I'm only learning now: his father disowning him, poor economic status, ex wife, a child, and what more. I didn't expect you people to do this to me. I don't deserve this." She starts undoing the veil from her hair. "Did the world run out of men? Could baba and Mughis lala find no other guy for me?" Her hands fall back to her sides limply. "Only if God could even pity me over my condition..."

"Afsha," another voice speaks and she looks towards the door to find her older sister standing at the threshold with a tender expression. "What about your marriage upsets you so much?"

"Everything," she spits, her expressions instantly colored by newfound rage. "You, most of all, Parisha."

"No, zaar." Parisha steps into her room, elegantly carrying her dress, like Ferozeh, and unlike her. "What upsets you are all the materialistic things that you cannot find in Aurang. But I too approved of him for you only out of his goodness."