The Ahmed Trilogy Book One
Can be read as a stand-alone
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Zayn feels lost, devoid of his sense of purpose in this world. He feels restless, as if he is subconsciously awaiting something, o...
Syra twirled around in the dress, absolutely adoring the mirrors, which reminded her of her Gujarati traditional clothes. She often wore simpler versions around the house. She then went downstairs to the Aunty, who sent a flurry of praises in Pashto. Syra just smiled and nodded cluelessly.
She had decided to do her makeup herself. Just winged eyeliner and a pinkish nude lip, as the jewellery she was given to wear was on the heavy side.
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She sent a snap to Zayn of only her eyes and headpiece, to which he sent a snap back. His black waves were mussed, silver eyes twinkling, his sharp jaw generously covered by his beard, his eyebrow cocked. There wasn't a day where she didn't marvel at his inhuman-like beauty. On his shoulders sat Imran who made such a similar expression to his father that she couldn't help but laugh. His hands were tangled in Zayn's hair, his silver-emerald eyes innocently staring down at the phone. A simple showed in his left cheek. She could tel he had just been given a bath as his chocolate-coloured curls were slightly damp. Her heart warmed at the picture, a large smile spreading over her face.
'Stargy de khaaista dee," the caption read. A quick search told her that meant 'Your eyes are beautiful', sending her heart into overdrive. She sent a snap back of the twins sleeping this time, captioned 'Khaaista,', which meant handsome (she hoped Google Translate was reliable).
He responded by saying, 'Imran has managed to weaken his way into the plastic containers again. Gotta go, see you soon ;)'. 'See you x' she replied with and out her phone down to remove the headpiece and do her hair.
She decided to take two strands at the front, near her ears and braid them, then pulled them back and tied them. She considered curling her hair but it would be covered by the dupatta anyways. None of her hair would be on show.
Soon enough, she was in the hall. She would enter the hall with Husna and Anayah carrying decorative plates,with Amma in between, her following behind. She would walk underneath a cloth called banrasy, thw four corners held by Malikah, Layla, Isla and Jannah. Her two most closest cousins, Haniya and Ameema, would follow behind with Hashir and Hayder, who were dressed in cute little shalwarkameez. The rest of her side of the family followed behind.
She joined Zayn at the stage, who wore a matching embroidered waistcoat over white shalwar kameez, a matching shawl, surprisingly also a pakol (traditional hat) and even had a motherfuckinf sword in his hand. He held it like it was something ordinary to him. When he met her eyes and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, she was tempted to pull the sword free of its decorative scabbard and stab him. Fool. He was being ridiculous while she met the rest of his family for the first time, and he was meeting hers too.
The rest of the event went by far quicker than Syra would have liked. She was throughly enjoying it. Zayn's women relatives first begun doing a dance called the Shadoola, then they put mehndi leaves on their hands and feet again so people could come and apply mendhi on them. Then another traditional dance, the Attan was performed. Then they served some sharbat gond kateera (a famous beverage in Peshawar), before doing a traditional swirling dance with the decorative plates. After that they served food, the main course being Dum Pukht (pieces of mutton/beef cooked in specific spices. And the event finally ended with the khattak dance. That had to be her favourite part of the day. The coordinated sword movements, so synchronised. She would forever keep that in mind.
