Zehra's POV
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, a satisfying smile came across my lips. It's five forty five p.m., meaning I have just fifteen minutes to put my hijab on and leave the house.
I'm wearing a red velvet dress that has small little pearls on it which makes the dress very beautiful.
I grabbed a cream coloured hijab and wore it, covering my chest and back. I placed my dupatta on my left shoulder and looked at myself one more time in the mirror before heading downstairs.
"Zehra, are you ready?" my brother asked me, as I approached him on the sofa.
"Seriously? I'm ready and you saw me that I'm ready but still you have to ask 'are you ready' like bro, have some brain," I said as he rolled his eyes at me.
"Are you going out in this?" he asked when I spun around and asked him how I was looking.
"Yeah, is something wrong with this dress?"
"No, but–"
"Kids, let's gooo," mom chimed in her cheerful voice as she entered the living room. She looks beautiful with her purple dress and black hijab.
"Mama, you look so beautiful. Mash'Allah," Hassan bhai said kissing her forehead.
"I know, I know. I'm always beautiful," she said, chuckling.
"You are," I said and hugged her.
"Mama, is this dress okay?" I asked her, spinning around once again to show her my dress because I don't trust my brother.
"Are you going out in this?" she asked the same question as Hassan bhai.
"Yes. Why? Is something wrong with my dress?" I asked looking at my dress, confused. I don't see anything wrong, the dress is perfect.
"No, it's not, but–"
"Hey, family. Are we ready to go to the party?" Dad entered the room, cutting off my mom.
"Yes, we're ready," mom said and turned to me. "But I don't think you should wear this, Pari."
"What, why? What's wrong? She looks absolutely stunning," dad said, side hugging me and giving a kiss to the crown of my head.
"Zehra, spin around," mom said and I did as I was told.
"Em, Zehra your mom is right. I don't think you should wear this," dad said, and Hassan bhai laughed.
"What? Can someone please tell me what's wrong with my dress?" I said, irritated.
"It's not the dress, Zehra."
"Then what is it?"
"Look at your feet." Mom gestured towards my feet and I looked at her confused. I lifted my dress, and. . . oh God.
"Why didn't any of you bother to tell me that I was wearing my cute pink bunny slippers instead of my heels?" My brother laughed and I shot him a glare. He quickly coughed trying to stop himself from laughing.
"You really didn't realise what you were wearing?" mom asked, handing me my cream coloured heels.
"No."
"Mama, Baba, I'm telling you, she needs glasses," my brother said and left before I could say anything to him.
"Pari, hurry up. We're going to be late," dad said, before leaving.
"Turn off the living room light, Pari," mom ordered as she flicked open the enter hall light because—according to her—it's for safety.
We locked the door behind us and started approaching dad and Hassan bhai.
"Did you call Zaidan?" mom asked me as we approached them.
"Yeah, I did. Last night." She nodded and dad opened the backseat door of his car for me and mom to sit. Although we always had a car, my dad always insisted that I take the bus.
I had called Zaidan last night to invite him to that party. He had picked up on the first ring and I told him about the party and upon hearing Lucinda's name he immediately agreed coming.
I feel dumb for even calling him. I mean when I know how Zaidan is, why did I even bother calling him? I'm starting to lose hope for us, he will never change and our marriage will never work out.
One hour later. . .
I'm standing in the middle of this large building—where the party is held—with my mouth agape.
Out of nowhere, I felt a finger on my chin and then I felt myself closing my mouth.
"You better close your mouth, because you'll have an anxiety attack later, seeing all these people staring at you," came Zaidan's voice, as he came in front of me and blocked the view with his huge body.
"This place is so absolutely stunning," I whispered in awe.
"I know, but you know what's even more breathtaking?" I looked at him, then slowly shook my head.
"This." He turned me around, and we faced a grand mirror. My heart fluttered with excitement, but I tried to contain my emotions, not wanting to get my hopes up just yet. Noticing I reached above his chest with heels, I pretended to be clueless and exclaimed happily, "I reach your chest!"
"Are we in a competition now?" he asked, raising his eyebrow and leading me to the sitting area.
"Yes, we are. And one day Insha'Allah I'll reach your neck," I replied confidently, and sat on the chair Zaidan had pulled out for me. [If Allah wills.]
"You really have the spirit of a child." He shook his head at me.
"I do," I said, swinging my legs and I can swear I saw his lips twitching upwards.
"By the way, where are your parents and brother?" he asked, standing in front of me with his hand on the chair.
"My brother is with Yusuf and with other friends of his, and my mom ran to her friends and an uncle approached dad so he got busy with him."
"And where are your friends?"
"I don't really know. They were supposed to be here before me."
"That's good that they're late." I looked at him confused. "Why?" I asked.
"Well, you got a little time for your husband." I huffed. "I have all the time just for you, my husband," I said, sarcastically.
"You're right, because today is Thursday meaning you'll be at my house."
"You said you'll come and pick me up Friday not Thursday," I mumbled.
"Hmm, you're right, but I can change my plans whenever I want."
"You're so evil, and arrogant and playboy and the worst husband ever and–"
"You can tell me what I am and what not, when we will be in our house. Now enjoy your company with your friends," he said and straightened his jacket.
"I hate you," I muttered as he began to take slow steps backwards.
"I can change the middle word to 'love' if I want to," he said and walked away. It took me a minute to register his words.
I saw him standing with two men and as we made eye contact, he winked at me then returned his attention to them.
"As-salamu alaykum," greeted Sana and Hoorain coming from behind me.
"Wa-alaykumu s-salam, how are you both?" I got up and hugged them.
"Alhamdulillah, we're perfect. What about you?"
"Alhamdulillah, I'm good too. Do you know where–"
"Hey giiirls. How are you?" A high pitched voice interrupted me and knowing the voice very well I smiled widely and turned around and hugged Emma, tightly.
"I know, I know. You missed me and I missed you too but you know, I'm very young to die. And that too because of a hug," Emma voiced, and I let her go.
"I'm very happy to see you, Emmybug." Immediately her smile dropped and she rolled her eyes at me.
"I told you–"
"Hundred times to not call me that. What you don't understand?" I finished for her. "I know this sentence by heart." I placed my hand on my heart and winked at her.
"And you still don't understand."
"I'll understand–"
"When I die."
"Now you literally sound like my mom. You should have been the mom of our group."
"Hey—don't replace me. I'm the mom of the group," Lucinda's voice came from behind me. She came and hugged Hoorain and Sana, then came to me but I'm not Emma, Hoorain or Sana. I'm Zehra, which means I can never hug my best friends normally. I jumped on her hugging her tightly.
"I missed your hugs, but I don't wanna die because of your 'kill her out of breath' hugs." I let go of her, faking a hurt expression.
"I'm very hurt because of you all. You always complain about my 'warm' hugs."
"Drama queen. This very 'warm hugs' of yours, can kill someone," Hoorain said.
"What? No, please no. I don't wanna be a murderer and go to jail." I placed my hands on top of my heart.
"How many awards do you have won?" Asked Sana.
"What awards?"
"Awards for your acting."
"None."
"You could have won so many if you were in a drama," Emma uttered.
"Really? Then tell me how can I apply for an acting role." They rolled their eyes at me.
"Don't roll your eyes at me–"
"Guys, I'm really hungry so I'm going to eat something," Sana said, leaving.
"Wait for me." Hoorain too left.
"Actually I think I'm hungry too, so bye bye." Emma waved her hand and left as I looked at Lucinda.
"Don't worry, I'm here." I smiled and side hugged her. "You're the best."
"I know," she said, smugly.
"How is your sister and brother-in-law?" I asked. "And the baby, of course," I added.
"They're fine and I was so scared for the baby when I got to know that my sister was pregnant and got into that accident, but thank God the baby is fine and healthy," she said, a wide smile playing on her beautiful face.
"That's good news."
"I know." She side hugged me, tightly.
"Lucy," I called for her but she didn't budge. I tried again, "Lucy–" she immediately let go of me and spun me around for me to see stars.
"Zehra, I don't how to explain to you that I'm sooo happy." She again spun me around and I think I'm about to throw up.
"Luc–"
"And I'm so excited to hold my niece, even tho there are still months for the delivery. But still, I'm soooo excited." She jumped and almost squealed.
"Luc–"
"And. . . and, you'll go shopping with me to buy little shirts for him or her. I'm so happy." She jumped, still holding my hand. I think she broke my hand.
"Lucy can–"
"Oh, and–"
"Lucy! Calm down." She flashed me an apologetical smile.
"I think you broke my hand," I muttered, looking at my hand.
"Your hand is not a glass that I will touch and it will break. Even if it was, you would have broken it, not me." I narrowed my eyes at her.
"What? It's true. You're the clumsy one, not me."
"Whatever. I'm going to sit there." I pointed at a round table with six chairs.
"I'm coming with you." She linked her arm with mine and we approached the table and sat.
"So–"
"We're back with loads of food." I looked at the plates that Sana, Hoorain and Emma were placing on the table.
"It smells sooo good," I expressed, looking at the plate full of biryani in front of me.
"I know, right," Sana agreed, as she started eating her pasta. Hoorain and Emma too sat and started their food.
"You didn't tell me you had biryani here." I turned towards Lucinda.
She shrugged. "I like biryani very much and I don't see any reason for not having this dish here." She grabbed an emty plate and started filling it with biryani.
"You can have biryani all for yourself, I'm not hungry," I said.
She glanced at me, "Why not?"
"Not in the mood of eating." She nodded.
********
It's been half an hour since we've been here talking about random stuffs, laughing over silly things and still I haven't heard anything from my husband.
I looked around and spotted my brother and Yusuf. They were talking and laughing and I wish my husband was there too, laughing with them. But he's too arrogant to even smile.
I averted my gaze from them and looked behind me. There he was, in his black two-piece-suit, an emty glass in his hand, talking with someone and looking as handsome as ever.
Wait, did I call him handsome?
Oh, no. Astaghfi–wait, he's my husband so I can call him handsome. In fact I can even call him gorgeous, good looking, hot–no, no, no.
Stop it Zehra! It's enough. I get it, he's good looking, devilishly handsome but you can't forget his actions. He's a playboy and will never change. Or maybe he will. . . I hope, one day.
Zaidan looked at me and for a brief second his eyes flickered towards Lucinda before settling on me again.
"Zehra, I'll be back in five minutes," Lucinda whispered to me and got up.
I looked up at her as she straightened her emerald green dress that reached her mid-thighs.
"Where are you going?" I inquired.
"I'll tell you later, I have to go now," she said, rushing towards the stairs, fixing her hair and going towards Zaidan.
I looked over at him as he entered a room with Lucinda close behind him and after a few seconds later the door closed. I closed my eyes trying to push away the negative thoughts that had started to pop up into my mind.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes then turned to face the girls.
"Are you okay, Zehra?" asked Sana, concerned.
"I'm perfect." I smiled at her and crossed my legs under the table and started fidgeting with my fingers—a thing I do when I'm anxious.
Hoorain looked at me. "Are you sure?" I just nodded my head because I didn't trust my mouth at the moment.
I'm about to have an anxiety attack and the crowd and loud music aren't helping. I abruptly got up from my seat and quickly went upstairs, but I don't know where the bathroom is. My chest is starting to hurt and I have no one by my side.
I sped-walked hugging myself tightly, trying to find the restroom. Why didn't I just asked the girls? Because I'm dumb, that's why.
After, I don't know what, I found the bathroom and locked myself in it. I finally let the tears fall, which I was trying my hardest not to let them fall in front of my friends. Why am I even crying? Because of my anxiety attack? Because of the crowd? Because of the loud music? Or because of Zaidan?
He's in a room alone with my best friend doing, God knows what. Will I live like this all my life?
A sob escaped my mouth as I dropped to the clean tiles and hid my head between my knees, crying silently. The music is getting louder and louder by each passing second.
I don't want to live like this. I want a husband that cares about me, who loves me. Don't marriages built on trust and love? I don't have neither.
The hiccups coming out of my mouth didn't stop and my chest started to hurt more and more.
I don't–
What sounded like someone banging a shoulder against the door startled me, making me jump from my spot.
"Don't get scared, Zehra. It's me, Zaidan." I looked at the door dumfounded, wrapping my hands around myself once again. How did he–
"I know you're inside, Zehra. Open the door."
"Go away," I whispered, resting my head against the door. Thank God it's him and not some creepy man behind the door.
"I'm not going anywhere till you open the damn door."
"Then stay there, I'm not coming out," I said shakily and heard him sigh heavily as his footsteps started to fade away. Did he really walked away? I thought of opening the door and reaching for the handle, but the loud music made me flinch and I immediately backed away from the door.
I need to calm down. It's nothing serious, it's just a crowd that I need to get used to it but the loud music. . .
It wasn't that loud when I first entered but now it's getting louder.
I splashed water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I look awful. I shouldn't have came here in the first place. My chest is starting to hurt a lot and I'm struggling to breathe.
After some minutes I heard footsteps.
"Zehra, open the door or I swear I'm going to break it," I heard Zaidan's voice. Didn't he just left? Also the music has suddenly stopped.
"No," I whispered.
"Okay then." He banged his shoulder against the door so hard that the whole door shook.
"What are you–" another bang.
"I told you I'm going to break the door if you don't open it." I quickly opened the door, and he who was coming to slam the door, bumped into me and we lost balance. He placed his hand on my lower back and pushed himself to the ground and me on top of him.
"You should have warned me that you were going to open the door," he said.
I looked at him before placing my head against his chest once again. He is breathing heavily and his heart is pounding in an abnormal state.
"You're lucky that the floor is dry," I said when his breath started to come back to normal.
"You like this position very much." I looked at him embarrassed and attempted to get up, but his hand was firmly pressed against my lower back.
"Stay a little longer."
"In the toilet?" I giggled.
"If you–" his phone ringing startled me.
"Relax." He soothingly rubbed my back. Why does he have to do such things?
"We have to go." He sat up making me sit on his lap.
"You're so big," I mumbled looking at his legs.
"And you're so tiny."
"I'm not."
"Yes you are, now get up. Or do you want me to pick you up?" I quickly got up.
"Lest go." He got to his feet and dusted his clothes.
"But–"
"No buts. I told everyone we're leaving." He dusted my clothes and grabbed my hand, leading me outside.
"Wear this." He bent down and placed a pair of black slippers in front of me.
"From where did you get these?" He shrugged and took off my heels and had me put on the slippers. A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I wore the slippers.
"You should have worn slippers instead of heels," he said, getting up and grabbed again my right hand.
"Why?" I questioned.
"Because the dress is long and you could have been comfortable." I grimaced at him.
"Who wears slippers with a fancy dress? And that too with frocks."
"You always wear frocks."
"That's because I don't like wearing tights outside."
"You always wear tights," he pointed out.
"Yeah, because I always wear long frocks." We reached to the parking lot.
"Whatever." He opened the passenger door for me and I sat and he too sat at the driving seat and started the car.
"The house is three hours away so–"
"You and your Uncle definitely have a thing for hours." He rolled his eyes.
"What? I'm not lying. First, his house was two hours away and now yours is three hours away." I crossed my arms.
"And what's my fault in this? You choose this." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Everything is your fault and I didn't choose anything," I retored.
"Wha–" he started but I cut him off.
"I don't want to hear anything, speed up the car."
"Are you wearing your seatbelt?"
"Nope." He parked the car on a side and buckled my seatbelt. He then speeds it up, rolling down the window of my side.
I smiled and looked outside the window.
Zaidan isn't a bad person. He just needs someone to bring him to the right path, and I'll try my hardest to be that someone.
💜🤍💜🤍💜🤍
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