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.
Doniya Ahmed was a twenty-four and a part-time writer for a national, online newspaper company. Her sole reason behind signing up for the job was her passion for writing, as she spent most of her free time in telling cheesy tales of romance to anyone who would read them. When she wasn't writing, she found herself lost between the pages of a good book.
"It's not like she said anything wrong. People don't choose girls with glasses." Doniya's eyes widened incredulously as her mother said those words. She wasn't one to cry but how could her own mother say such hurtful words to her?
"Fozia." Her father said in low warning.
The minute the car parked in the driveway of their white picket fence house, she was out the door and silently fuming in anger until she reached her room and sagged back in her bed. Her hands got hold of the bookmarked book on their own accord and she lay back woth the book open in front of her. An escape from reality was what her books were.
Her anger didn't lessen, rather increased as she read through the scene she had left at. How could Stella's family be so heartless? She read further and internally squealed when Stella's fake boyfriend stepped in and handled the situation. A man like Christian Harper was all Doniya needed in her life to be happy.
A knock on the door brought her out of her book and she went to the door to get it.
"Doniya, I'm sorry. That was harsh." She instantly smiled at seeing her mother looking guilty and engulfed her in a big hug. Doniya was taller than her mother which made their hugs more fun.
"It's alright, Mama. I don't take such words to heart anymore. Aadat hogayi hai." She shrugged, sitting down on the bed. Her mother followed.
*"I'm used to it now."
"Still, it was wrong for me to say such things. Insha Allah, shehzada milega meri Doniya ko."
*"Insha Allah, my Doniya will get a prince."
Doniya didn't really need a prince. One or two fictional men would do.
"How's writing going?" Her mother said after spotting the open book on her bed.
Doniya made a face. "You know I write romance, and I'm not exactly comfortable in talking about that with my mother."
Her mother laughed, patting her back. "My love, I know everything about it, alright? Nothing you say will be unheard of."
She whined in complain. "Don't remind me."
***
Her heart melted at the sight of the pale blue dress hanging from her closet door. It was easily one of the prettiest she'd seen.
"Stop gawking and get ready, Doniya. We're getting late." Doniya had already done her makeup and styled her hair. All that was left to do was wear the dress and jewelry. "And please remove the glasses. You will look prettier that way."
"I wear them for a reason, Mother Dearest. I'm pretty much blind without them." She changed into her dress and twirled, really capturing the princess vibes she was feeling.
Then, she held up her phone to take a few selfies and post them on her close friends' story on Instagram. She knew the people in that list would blow up her DMs with praises and compliments. It wasn't everyday she got ready and she personally thought it was a must to take pictures whenever she got ready.
The wedding venue was jam packed with guests in colorful clothing, blending into one big mush of colors.
"Finally, you're here! Come on, picture time." Doniya let her cousin, Rimsha, drag her into a group of girls that had posed together in front of a photographer who looked like his knees were giving up on him after crouching for a long time. All the girls in the group were photo addicts and she wondered for how long had the photographer been entertained their fantasies of getting photographed by a professional. Even the bride and groom hadn't taken as many pictures.
Doniya squeezed into the side of her cousin, smiling her prettiest smile for the camera.
After one picture, Rimsha turned around and whispered to her. "Take these off" –she pointed to Doniya's glasses– "the light will reflect off them." Doniya ignored her and turned back to the camera, soon getting tired of the company of the overly-loud and excited girls.
She found a quiet table in one corner with just one guy sitting close by. He didn't look interested in the function, scrolling through his phone. She figured his presence would be better than the other hundreds who were constantly chatting and took a seat. The table was big enough for them to not interact with each other.
She pulled out her phone from the pocket in her dress– custom-made– and scrolled through the apps until she found her MS Word and opened a pdf of a book.
"Reading at an event?" The voice nearly startled her enough to drop her phone but she calmed her racing heart and turned to the guy who had spoken. He watched her with an arched eyebrow and a small, amused smile.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "How did you know?" They were sitting across from each other. There was no way he could've seen her phone screen.
"I didn't. You haven't tapped your phone screen in the past two minutes so I figured you would be reading. A lucky guess." He shrugged, switching off his phone and dropping it on the clothed table.
"And why have you been watching me for the past two minutes?" That sounded like something the female main character from a romance novel would say.
He only replied with a smile and she returned back to reading, her cheeks heating up at the conversation. Did she just have her main character moment?
"I like your glasses." He spoke again.
Definitely a main character moment.
————
Book mentioned above:
Twisted Lies by Ana Huang.