Forlorn Hearts

teen

Falak had not gone out with her family since the past two years. They didn't want to be seen with her. But now, not only she was astonished but also skeptical. Why were they suddenly taking her to attend a wedding? That too a collegemate's? She knew it was to meet the groom's family, but that could still have been done without her presence. It wasn't like she was going to have a say in anything that was going to happen from now on.

Talking to Bani though, confirmed everything. Her ex and his family weren't going to show up. That could be a plausible reason her mother finally wanted to willingly hold her hand in public. And her dad walked closer to her than he usually did. Was the reason they were finally going to marry her off made them treat her better?

She didn't think so. But she couldn't understand what other people thought. And why they suddenly changed. She wished she could. Then maybe she would still be married to her ex. And maybe she would still have a good relationship with her parents.

Falak didn't like dwelling on the dysfunctional family she carried on her shoulders, it had not always been like this but it had also never been the happiest. In a sense, she didn't feel much ache from what she'd lost because she never really had it.

But that didn't mean there was no ache. And definitely didn't mean it wasn't intensifying from every coarse word that passed her mother's lips. It reminded her of her childhood and how she held her in her arms when she had a bad dream. When Falak thought of such things, she did think, that maybe yeah, she had lost much more than she had.

But now in her grey lehenga, seated on a table with just her parents felt so foreign; alien even. The Khakhra wouldn't go down her throat, how would she even finish her lunch?

"Falak!"

Bani's smile pulled her red painted lips, the glitter over her eyes was also shinning on her cheeks as she greeted her parents and mumbled excuses to take Falak away.

"I will bring her back, aunty, just a call away!" she spoke through feigned enthusiasm.

When they were out of earshot her smiled dropped, worried marred her face. "Are you okay?"

She let out a shaky breath but nodded.

"You have to meet. . . people again," her wedding bangles clanked as she lifted her hand to squeeze her shoulder. She definitely wore the part of looking like the new bride, Falak wondered if Amrit was matching with her again.

"I know," she repeated twice, trying to convince herself more than her. "I am not okay." Her voice cracked, because all she could think of was what they'd say about her now. What they'd talk. It was an embarrassment. She felt like a wine stain, that her parents couldn't rub off. And her past marriage felt like a raincoat she'd wear even in summer.

"You have to wear it with pride," Bani said. "Whatever you have on you, you can't be ashamed, Falak, this is what you wanted."

Yes, she did want a divorce. But she never wanted to be infertile. So, what was this stain really? A grease that she had tried to be wash, only for it to have spread more. Her infertility was a disguise her previous marriage hid. But she knew, that a few were still aware of it.

The baraat had yet to come, and they huddled over the dessert stand when once in a while a familiar face popped in to say hi. Bani was leaning content in Amrit's arms, a smile on her lips and Falak smiled looking at them.

"I heard what happened, I am so sorry, Falak." A derisive voice fell, she looked at the women in purple saree, her hair tied in a high bun as she locked arms with an unfamiliar man. "By the way, this is my husband, Suhas. He's an architect."