Damsel In Distress (A Wattpad Featured Book✓)

CHAPTER: 64 | THE ART OF LETTING GO (PART-10)

(Nikâh day)

A team of four ladies from the salon were waiting for Laiba when she returned to her room from the prayer hall. They were dressed in black jumpsuits and white aprons, their hands covered in gloves. They gave her a welcoming smile in unison.

Laiba looked back and forth between them and the empty hallway before hesitantly waving a hand, " Hi." She smiled back, awkwardly.

"We have prepared a bath for you, Miss." One of them spoke, sweeping a hand towards the bathroom.

"For me?"

And when they nodded at her in affirmation, she hurriedly checked the bathroom which smelled rich with lavender, a bubble bath indeed waiting for her inside.

"I think you've been mistaken. I'm not the bride." She told them, looking at all the scented candles, petals, body oils, creams, bath robes, the low music, goblets and drinks near the bathtub.

"We know. The chosen package includes all members of the family." The other girl informed her, "Your name is on the list, Miss-" She glanced down at the notepad and cleared her throat, "Mrs, Laiba Aariz Othman." She corrected herself.

She had zero control over the instant blood rush to her cheeks, tinting them crimson.

She hated the effect a mere mention of his name with hers had on her.

"Do I have to do this?" She wasn't a fan of anything extra.

"It would be a waste if you don't." Said the one whose name tag read Sharon.

After some contemplation, she gave in, "Alright. How do we do this?" She was only doing it for the sake of not wasting what was already set up for her.

"You can soak yourself in the bath while we do your manicure and pedicure."

"Can we skip the manicure and pedicure part? I prefer bathing alone." She wasn't lying naked in the bathtub with four women around her.

"The bath is covered with petals and bubbles."

She argued with them but eventually, she had to agree (against her better judgement)as she felt she was making it difficult for them while they were just trying to do their job. She, however, made them wait out while she stripped down to her undergarments. She tested the water with her toes. It was just the right kind of warm. Lowering herself in the tub, she submerged in the water. She closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles.

It felt good.

The ladies came back with their kits. Two of them began working on her hands and feet and the other two on her face and hair. They used expensive shampoos and conditioners for her hair, essential oils for her face and left a hydrating mask to lock everything in.

An hour later, she was prepped from head to toe.

Laiba had never felt as refreshing in her life. Her skin was glowing. Her hair was glossy and she didn't just smell like a flower but like a whole flower shop.

Grabbed in a bathing robe, Laiba sat like a puppet on the stool while four pairs of hands did everything for her.

The make-up artist seemed to have understood her assignment because she gave her a soft feminine look by keeping her make-up minimal and natural.

Her dress was a work of art by Veronica; an ivory shararah suit with an elegant work of copper embroidery and intricate sequins.

After changing into the dress, her hair was blow-dried, straightened/curled and styled into a low bun by her hairdresser.

For jewellery, they slipped a pearl, white-gold, kundan necklace around her neck, a pair of jhumka on her ears, kadas on her hands and finger-rings on her fingers. And her shoes were a pair of dreamy Jimmy Choo.