[Wedding playlists please,]
"You forgot?"
"Yea, I'm sorry."
"No, like are you serious? You forgot you had to tell me you are divorced?"
"I- I didn't know it mattered."
"I spent every other weekend with you for two years, I came till here for you, you don't let me give you gifts I know but I didn't know I was making effort for you only to hear these gossip aunts talk shit about you."
"Azaa- Areeb. I didn't-"
"-Stop it, Sawera. I'm booking my flights." He leaves.
I sit down on the bed and hold my head.
I'm the headache.
~~~
"Sawera tum bhi lagwaao naa mehendi."
"Nahin, Rabeel, thank you."
"Sawera, lagwaa lo. Please. Mere liye." Sehar aapi says.
"Aap ke liye hi yahaan aayi hoon. Aur aap ki wajaah se hi Areeb mujh se naraaz ho gayaa hai."
She takes my hand and puts it on a henna artist's hand.
"You know chaachi told me all of what you've done today and I'm very upset."
What the fuck?
"What have I done? Oh- yea, I'm so sorry, I don't know how it happened. I didn't spill the juice on your niece on purpose-"
"-Sawera, you amaze me so much. I was talking about how hard you've worked all day." She says and all the girls around me laugh. "All these decorations, it wasn't your job. Why do you never admit the good things you do no matter how big and why do you keep overthinking all the negative things no matter how small?"
Once Sehar aapi's hand is done, the henna artist turns to me and picks my left hand.
I can't remove my watch.
The mark's right below.
She smiles to me and I don't know how to tell her to not to remove my wrist watch.
She does and gives it to Sehar aapi. And I promise myself to remember to not pick my hand up.
She's so sweet, her voice is so humble when she asks me if I want a specific design.
Everyone's so nice here.
I almost dropped the whole background carpet on the bride and groom's love seat sofa but no one said anything.
"Stop thinking that," Sehar aapi warns me in my ear before getting up to go to Abyan.
"You haven't slept yet, darling," she runs a hand through his hair.
He shakes his head, "has Abeeha gone to sleep?"
"Mhm, Abyan, who's Abeeha huh?" Abroo, Sehar aapi's sister asks.
He hides behind his mum and his mum hides her laughter while his khaala tries to guess who she is.
"Hm, is she pretty?"
"I won't tell you," he puts both his hands on bhabhi's legs and peeks from the side.
"Who will you tell if not to your khala."
"Sawera," a mini squeal rusps out of his throat.
It warms my heart, I love him so much.
They all look towards me and I open my arms for him, "Aww, thank you!"
Abyan runs to me and whispers words I don't understand in my ear.
Sehar aapi laughs and her husband busies her with their own personal talks.
I tell the henna artists to only fill my hand till the ends of my palm and Rabeel, Sehar aapi's cousin, rolls her eyes.
"Isn't this your thing now?" I hear Abroo.
"Huh?" I look at her,
"To take everything that's mine?" She smirks, sitting down.
"Sorry?"
"You don't know I was dating Azaan?"
I look at Rabeel and she's detailing the mehndi design to her artist.
"No, I'm sorry I didn't know."
"Now you do. Abyan's my nephew and I'd like you to maintain distance-" her phone rings, "you get me, right?"
I look down to my henna and my mood's so off now, I want to calmly rest my hand down and ruin the whole design.
Abyan looks at my henna from my lap, "wow, this is so pretty," his eyes shine so beautifully.
I smile to him.
"Did you see Abeeha wearing this?" He points to the design so closely, it gets ruined.
I laugh at the way he grimaces, he looks like Azaan. "Sehar aapi, please get his hands washed-"
My laughter seizes.
Allah, I can't do this.
You better faint me right away.
Kill me, if you will.
I won't complain, I promise.
Tell me that's not Azaan.
My heartbeat and breath has already been played with enough times.
"Assalamualeikum," his hazel eyes dart directly on my heart.
He's so close to me. Is this real? No it's not. How's it- I would believe if someone said Shahrukh Khan's here but Azaan...
His smile is so small, yet so dashing.
I can't say anything about the emotions his eyes hold. I don't want to say anything. I'm staring for too long.
This is wrong.
"Chaachu!" Abyan climbs up his arms and I lower my eyes.
Allah.
Allah's being so unfair to me. So so so unfair.
Why is he torturing me for a mistake I've already apologised for sufficiently.
I didn't reply to his salaam.
The salaams when I used to wait for him to come home from office.
What am I even saying?
What am I doing?
What do I look like?
All the questions stop.
He's not mine. His opinion of me doesn't matter.
The man standing in front of me, my Azaan's not mine.
Is this world fucking with me?
He is mine. He needs to be mine. I want to hug him. I want to rest my face on his neck and cry my heart out, how is he not mine when I feel the connection of our hearts?
Allah, please forgive me. Please tell me a way out. I need him. I need him without hurting anyone.
I want to get up and hug him and just have that beautiful life all for ourselves again.
I look up again to see him staring down at me. There are wrinkles beneath his eyes.
"Assalamualeikum," he repeats himself.
God, we're breathing the same air.
My eyebrows are slightly furrowed as I nod, as if he's supposed to know why I'm so weird.
His perfume fills my heart with heartwarming memories.
He moves away and I move my eyes to my hand. She went way above the wrist.
"What's that champ?"
"My hand got Sawera's henna on my hand."
"Don't you gotta go wash it?"
I have always yearned to see how he talks to Abyan.
My heart aches.
I knew it would ache no matter what.
Because nothing can change the fact that we can never have that intimacy again.
Before my heart explodes, I try to get all the feelings under my hand.
Now what? After a few days all of this is going to end. I'll have to live the rest of my life just the way I've lived it these four years.
Allah, please don't give me happiness if you're going to snatch it anyway.
There's no happiness though.
We can have nothing and I can only adore him from afar.
"Sawera," I hear Areeb, "here," he stretches out a bowl of rajma chaawal.
Areeb? Wasn't he upset? Wasn't he leaving?
"I'm sorry, I overreacted."
I look at my hands. I can't lift my left hand but my right hand's palm is full of henna.
"No, thank you, I'll have some later."
"Come on, you haven't had anything since morning." Why do such comments have to come when Azaan's here?
"I didn't know you were coming," I listen to Sehar aapi speak to Azaan.
Mujaahid sits on the quilt next to ours and starts speaking to Areeb and I can no longer hear Sehar aapi and... Azaan.
- A Z A A N -
"You said she looked healthy,"
"She does. If you saw what she has been through you'd know this is the best you can find her."
"Bhabhi she does not look healthy. I've wasted four fucking years without her for nothing to change."
Bhabhi looks back at me with the same fury, "Do you know how hard it is to overcome an eating disorder? There has been a drastic change"
I look at Sawera,
"She doesn't even like the texture of those beans, how is she eating- she's not liking it, who the fuck is that guy-"
"-Azaan! Stop it." She grabs my bicep, "You're not going to create a scene here."
"Who the fuck is he?" I ask. Bhabhi did not take care of her well.
"Her friend."
I glare at her.
"You can't tell her to not have friends."
"Why would you invite him?"
"She said she would only come if he's allowed and I wanted her to experience some change."
- S A W E R A -
I still can't believe I've seen Azaan. After all these years of yearning to meet him, he's finally in front of my eyes.
I miss our intimacy so much.
I could go hug him right now and ruin my whole henna but I can't.
While opting for divorce I didn't know I was going to have to live such a long and painful life. Allah has made it difficult for me.
"I'm sorry, I need to go make a call," I excuse myself.
I go to Rabeel's room and pull a tissue out.
Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear. [2:286]
Allah, please don't. I'll miss him even more now.
"Sawera," Sehar aapi finds me,
"I love him so much, I can't go there, I hate this, I hate it all so much." I damp the tissue on the lower edge of my eye.
I've put on makeup after so long, it's getting ruined.
"Is there any way-" I stop. That's not happening. "I'm doomed."
"Sawera, it was your decision, you can't regret it."
She's right.
"But I love him and I want him back, I don't want him to move on. I know, I know it's my mistake and it's his life, please don't tell him anything but it's so hard to think of this wedding ending. I can't think of the day after this wedding ends. I can't think of being in my sixties, lonely in that stupid little apartment."
This wedding would be so fun if Azaan were mine.
"Yea, but you can't be with him either, you know."
"I know."
"No, I'm saying you can't be with anyone anyway. With the way you overthink your smallest mistakes and underappreciate your hardwork, you're going to end up unhappy no matter what you do. You literally only have your own self at this point Sawera. You've pulled yourself through so much. How can you not appreciate yourself for it? You're lovely. And it's not me who's saying this, it's everyone in the house. Everyone who's met you."
"I know, I've heard them. They're really nice."
"How do you think nice of everyone and hate your actions so much? You're literally one of us. You're not another specie, Sawera. None of us are superior to you. You've done nothing evil and you don't deserve the hatred you're giving to yourself."
I don't know how bhabhi always makes sense and leaves me with nothing to say.
Bhabhi? I meant Sehar aapi.
I know I promised Azaan with my life in return of him divorcing me but sometimes I'd give up and wish to end it all. How would a deal matter if I ended my life?
I couldn't imagine having to spend sixty more painful years for the distressing agony to end.
That's when I met bhabhi. Sehar. The true person in her. She's such a beautiful soul, her way of thinking, her way of enjoying every moment- I felt so so guilty for demeaning her thoughts on her miscarriage by criticizing her.
I ended up confessing that one day when she was being too humble with me.
I knew I didn't deserve her kindness yet even after that, even after I was done explaining myself, she didn't get upset with me.
And that's what hurt me the most.
I owe her so much.
I faked happiness in front of her for around a year. We went to massage appointments, shopping, dinners, and did many fun activities together and she's the best friend I have ever had. Maybe that's the reason she found out how deeply I was hurting myself.
And God, I'm so much better now, compared to the hell of a life I had to face right after divorce.
I walk to her and hug her tightly. I don't deserve her. She's beautiful.
When I'm with her, -(or in other words,) in a good mood,- the sole purpose of my life is to be a good muslim and end up in jannah with Azaan because Sehar aapi told me that even if we are divorced, if I love him we'll be with each other in the hereafter.
And she has taught me so much about peace, religion, family.
And self-love.
For her, I want to give it a chance.
She says it's the only way I can pay her back.
[because it's wedding seasonnn.]