The Secrets We Keep Hidden

13 | A White Love Affair [Part 2]

"Grief is not a disorder, a disease, or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical, and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." ~Earl Grollman

Her fleeting heart was on the brink of bursting into a million atoms as her nerves constantly surfaced on the tide of her shaking body. The amalgamation of the flowers encompassing her body trapped her in their fragrance. She was hyperaware of the fact that the man she had been wed to just hours ago now sat a few feet away from her. She could feel the lining of awkwardness as they spoke to guests, had their dinner, and continued to take endless pictures. Some of them with each other that ended with the shyness of eyes and some with others that forced them to be the center of attention.

They had barely exchanged more than a few forced small phrases here and there. She knew that Faryal would have been disappointed with the lack of conversation they both had. Firdaus did not know what was on her mind more, the impending Rukhsati that would take her officially away from the piece of home away from home she had tried to build for herself in the past few years, or the heart-teetering journey to his home as his dulhan.

Everything was a mix of feelings that went above and beyond her fragile yet strong heart. It was nearly too much to take. She was absorbed in her own thoughts before she found herself being tapped on the shoulder. She looked towards the side, and a smile covered her entire face.

Safeera's glowing face beamed at Firdaus from where she stood just beside her on the stage. Firdaus could feel him look over her shoulder, as he watched his daughter interact with her.

"Hello Safeera," Firdaus's voice was a soothing ocean, easily steadying the lion whose heart begged to roar. Firdaus held out her mehndi laden hand towards Safeera, and the little angel easily put her hand in hers. Safeera had always felt a sense of security when she had been around Firdaus. First as her dance teacher, now as her....

Firdaus moved the skirts of her lehenga away from where it covered the antique chaise lounge and pulled Safeera to sit right next her, keeping Firdaus in the middle of father and daughter.

She could feel people staring from afar, pretending to ignore the irony of the scene as the voice fell smaller in the crowd. Firdaus did not look back twice and began her conversation with Safeera. The two had talked shortly after the Nikkah, but this was the first time Safeera would have an uninterrupted conversation with Firdaus.

"Aap bahut khoobsurat laag rahi hai (You are looking very beautiful), Safeera," Firdaus said with a smile as she tucked one of Safeera's stray hairs behind her pierced ears. Her white suit complimented her gray eyes, and Firdaus could not help but wonder who she had inherited her pearly grays from.

"Thank you! But you are looking the prettiest if I may so myself," Safeera leaned in and whispered to her, not wanting to offend any of her aunts. She was quite conscious for a five year old.

Firdaus let out a small, yet genuine laugh and thanked Safeera. Her syntax was beyond her age. The two continued to talk and compliment each other, but there was something on Safeera's mind that was constantly nagging her.

"May I ask you something?" Safeera asked, peeping away from her father's curious gaze from the other side.

Firdaus noticed her will to not hold any sort of eye contact with her father, so she stealthily turned to cover Safeera's entire face from him with her body and nodded without any hint of hesitation. "Of course, you may ask."

Safeera gave her a content sigh of relief and hopped off from the seat to stand on her tip toes to reach just the lobe of Firdaus's ear. "May I please call you, Mama?" her voice was irresistibly shy and worried, and it took every ounce of Firdaus's will to not smother her in a bear hug. She did not want to scare Safeera away, but her question had broken her heart.