Rose-Colored Glasses

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Rose-Colored Glasses
A One-Shot

Genre: Non-fiction.


To all the girls who wear glasses.

————

"So, how was your result, Doniya?" Doniya made a point to mentally roll her eyes at the not-so-subtle interrogation of her biological aunt, her father's sister– Raheela Phupho.

"Masha Allah, she scored top in her region once again." Her mother added sweetly. Doniya winced at the excited, unpleasantly high-pitched voice of her mother.

Then, an idea came to her and she smirked silently. "Phupho, what about Ashraf? How was his result?" In reality, everyone in the family as well as Doniya knew that Ashraf was not a bright student and had failed multiple times. But Doniya took pleasure in watching her phupho's face redden in shame. There was nothing brag-worthy about Ashraf's result.

"Leave Ashraf. Tell me, Fozia, are you finding a rishta for Doniya now that she has completed her studies? You shouldn't delay it any further." Evil. That was the only word that came to her mind when describing her father's sister.

"We'll tell you whenever we do." Her father swiftly answered. Doniya didn't care about what others said but she still leaned back in the couch, blissfully ignoring the conversation.

"Of course. Tell me if you need any help. It can get quite hard to find suitable matches for girls with glasses. Not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with our Doniya."

What a snake, man. She just insulted me and then tried to do damage control, very poorly.

"Utar wa dein na iske chashmein, surgery mein zyada waqt to nahi lagta." Doniya wondered how exactly her glasses were affecting her phupho, but dropped the thoughts. Half the things her phupho said never made sense to her.

*"Get her glasses removed, it's not like the surgery takes time."

Just then, her cousin Ashraf came out and made a face at her. He was just like his mother.

"There you go, Mamu. All of you should be on time, okay?" Ashraf handed a beautifully decorated card to Doniya's father. She knew it was the invitation card for his wedding but she couldn't help but glance over her mother's shoulder to see the design of the card. It satisfied the aesthetician in her and she mentally noted to take a picture of the card later, play around with a few filters and post it on her Instagram feed.

*mamu: mother's brother.

"We'll be there on time, Insha Allah. Let's go?" Her father to her and her mother. Both ladies nodded and they were soon on their way home through the London roads that were overflowing with traffic.

"Baba, why do you never say anything to Phupho? She always says whatever comes to her mind. Never considers anyone else's feelings." Doniya complained, frustrated with the endless remarks her phupho made on her glasses.

"Tameez se, Doniya. Phupho hain tumhari." Her mother said, pointedly, meeting her eyes through the rearview mirror of the car. Doniya groaned, sitting back in her seat and opening her phone.

*"Manners, Doniya. She's your phupho."

Most of Doniya's followers on Instagram were friends she knew or who had come to follow her after discovering her very successful account on Pinterest. She smiled, seeing one of the comments on her post. It reminded her to publish another chapter of the story she was writing.

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