I looked down as the henna artist worked her magic on my hand, my gaze fixed on the designs that curved on my pale skin from the henna cones.

Everyone around me was celebrating my marriage, to me it seemed like they were all in for me to die.

How can I get married, just like this?

The smell of henna hit my nostrils full force and I resisted my urge to gag.

I was never a fan of henna. How someone can like redness of designs on their hands, I don't know.

"Ohoo, someone's lost in thoughts about her ahem ahem."

I looked up with a poker face at Husna, and gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

"I don't have any throat problems that make me go 'ahem ahem', so no, I'm not thinking about any 'ahem ahem'."

Since I could not air qoute her words with my hands, I used my eyes to show the sarcasm in my tone and Husna rolled her eyes, plopping behind me as she shoved her henna designed hands on my face, knowing full well I hated it.

"It's yuck," I said as the girl applying the brown liquid on my hand gave me a wickedly amused look and I smiled sheepishly at her,

"It wasn't for you. I was talking to her,"

The girl, I don't remember her name, spared me a glance,

"I understood the minute you almost gagged at the mehendi cone, that you hated it. So it's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you have a nice hand by the way. It's unnaturally soft."

I mouthed her a thank you and gave an actual, real smile.

"So," Husna started, "what am I gonna do when you go?"

I looked at her as she analyzed my face and I realized that the two of us didn't really get any 'us' time, and that thought suddenly made me feel even more depressed and when I realized this was my last night like this with her, I felt sick to the stomach.

She must've noticed the paleness on my face as I felt the blood drain out of my features because she leaned her head on my shoulder as I said,

"You'll do everything we planned for uni, except I won't be a physical part of it. You'll see me on a screen, a video call, that's the only difference."

"Does that mean I get to teach you everything I learn in class?"

"Yes. And I'll solve your question papers, and you'll have to correct them."

"Jeez, okay. That's gonna be so weird. You'll still end up scoring more than me, anyway."

I didn't say anything after that, and we stayed like that, lost in the same thought.

Tomorrow, I'll leave this home and go to the place I always wanted to call my home, only with a different person.

The only thing I was relieved of, was that Fariyal would be there to calm my nerves.

I couldn't believe I was feeling timid.

And that is when it hit.

Did they know about it?

I shrugged my shoulder so Husna would lift her head up,

"Husna, do they know?"

"Know what?" She asked, confused.

"Ohmygod, Husna! They don't. They don't know! This can't happen."

"Kainaat? What..."

Husna trailed off as in a flash, I was up on my legs and out of the room, the heavy dress doing little help to my fast paced steps.

I almost tripped and fell twice in my haste to get to mom until I bumped into Fariyal,

"Kainaat! What happened?!"

"Mamma! Where's Mamma, Fariyal?"

"Kainaat, calm down. What is it?"

"No! Far-"

"What is happening here?"

At the sound of dadijaan, I looked up, fear etched on my features.

"Dadijaan," I took hold of her hands, "do they know?"

She looked puzzled, "Know what, Kainaat?"

"About..about my, um, disability?"

It took dadijaan a minute to realize what I meant,

"Did Aaban ever know?"

I nodded.

"Then they must be aware. Do not fret, and don't even think of using that as an excuse to end this marriage."

I sighed and let Fariyal lead my way back to the room where my henna artist was waiting for me, and this time, Aaliya was sitting beside Husna.

As soon as I entered, she gave me a tight hug,

"So this is what you get yourself into when you can't marry the man of your dreams. Nice, Kainaat. Remind me to never look upto you."

I rolled my eyes and slapped her back, accidentally causing my not so dry mehendi to smudge on her dress and I bit my lip as everyone around me groaned.

Well, way to begin with my wedding.

***

"What's his name?"

"No, there's no need for-"

"Zaidaan. Z-A-I-D-A-A-N, I want it bold and clear on her hand."

I shot my mom a 'are you kidding me' look as the henna artist followed her command and spelled his name on my hand, causing me to hiss in protest under my breath.

Writing the groom's name on the bride's hand with mehendi is a silly little desi culture. On the wedding night, the bride asks the groom to search for his name on her twistedly designed orangish-reddish-brown or whatever is the color of henna hands.

I have no idea what it symbolizes, but I was so not in to do that ceremony with Zaidaan Farooq.

But ofcourse, it's not like anything was going my way these days.

And I watched helplessly as she wrote his name in effortless calligraphy between the delicately curved and netted designs on my hand, making it subtly visible, yet difficult enough for him to search.

Not like I would let him search my hand for his name, anyway.

We being already married, dadijaan had given Zaidaan a free card to come to our home whenever he wanted.

He seemed to have taken a speacial place in dadijaan's heart, as she showered him with more blessings than she did to Aaban, and I couldn't help but sulk.

Aaban and Fariyal, as a couple, had had their first dinner with our family two days back, the same day as which Zaidaan had oh so kindly gave me my engagement ring.

And quite unreasonably, Aaban had not even spared me a glance but he still somehow managed to ask me why wasn't I wearing 'the engagement ring his brother so fondly chose for me', infront of my entire family.

I was enraged to say the least. I was quite sure that not only my cheeks, but my entire body was red from head to toe.

Fariyal had uttered less than a few words, but of what my eyes observed, Aaban did give her a special attention. The same kind of attention that I used to get.

It hurt me to look at the way he looked at my sister. He looked at her as his wife, it was seen in his eyes that he had moved on, and I was nothing more than just his wife's little sister.

My dad was impressed, and while I had rushed to my room as soon as dinner was over, since I could not disrespect food by leaving in the middle of the dinner, my patience was running thin when I was summoned downstairs to dad's office in less than an hour.

Dad, Fariyal and her husband were awaiting me when I entered.

What followed next blew my mind forever and I haven't slept a blink since two nights, courtesy his words.

Dad wanted to make things less awkward and he told us to be normal and move on.

To that came a horribly heartless reply from, let's say my ex love,

"Honestly uncle, I have moved on. I would never do such an injustice to my wife, by being in a matrimony with her but in love with her sister. I don't love Kainaat. I never had, because if I did, I wouldn't have moved on. I won't say I love Fariyal just yet, but I will say I do not love Kainaat anymore."

The bluntness and coldness of his tone had made me visibly shiver and I didn't miss the look of both guilt and gratitude on my sister's face, while the man I loved, the man I still love,

stood there with a neutral expression, as if this was all the more normal.

I wondered if his heart had become as cold as his eyes and voice.

My dad, had then dismissed the couple and had the decency to hug me, muttering a quick I love you in my ears to jerk me out of my heartbroken stance.

Well, it took my dad to see my heart get broken into microtrillion pieces imfront of his eyes to confess and show me his love openly.

I hadn't cried. I was devoid of tears.

And I also didn't want to cry infront of him.

But the minute I was in the confines of my room, all the secret tears that I had been hiding poured out, wetting my pillow and the redness in my eyes spoke volumes the next morning.

I hadn't slept since that night, his words haunted me, turned my dreams to nightmare and wrecked havoc in my life.

I don't love Kainaat anymore.

Well, Aaban, thank you for clarifying that, but it really did no help to lessen my love for you.

Just how can someone fall out of love so easily?

I admit,we never dated or anything. Heck, I never even met him.

We had just confessed about having feelings for each other, and then we sometimes talked on the phone, but we never really talked about the haraam stuff but that didn't lessen my feelings for him or stop me from praying and hoping for a future with him.

"Earth to the bride,"

Aaliya snapped her fingers infront of me and I rolled my eyes, the colour on my cheeks reddening at being caught off gaurd.

Husna giggled beside me and poked my cheek, knowing full well I can't poke her back.

She was enjoying this way too much.

"Did you even hear what I said?"

I looked Aaliya, "Um, No?"

She gave me a poker face and sighed,

"Look down and tell me if you catch something different about me."

Husna groaned, "Aaliya, it can't be that prominent just yet. It's barely-"

"Shut up!"

She zipped her mouth and they motioned for me to notice something.

But when all I did was look down all the way to the floor, Husna burst out laughing while Fariyal snorted out the water she was drinking.

Aaliya face palmed, "Ohmygoodness, Kainaat! Not down down, I meant down at me!"

I scrunched my nose, but did as said.

When I looked up with a nonchalant expression and asked, "What?", Husna went into overdrive and I started laughing because she was laughing, but one disapproving look from mom from across the room and I shut my mouth.

"Ya Allah! Why me?! Why did you give me such brainless idiots as friends?!"

"What?" I asked again.

Aaliya dramatically sighed and continued completing her previous sentence with a few insults before she said,

"I'm a month pregnant, Alhamdulillah."

My jaw dropped open, and I screeched before engulfing her in a hug.

Aaliya and her husband, Ali, had a rather cute love story. I still remember how they used to throw chits across the classroom to each other in grade seven because they couldn't meet, and to see them welcoming a part of each other on this planet was just so...SubhanAllah.

"MashaAllah, Mubarak! Ya Allah, mai khaala banne wali hu!"

"Ji, behen, inshaAllah."

I hugged her once again and tried imagining how reaching so far in love with the same person must feel like.

I imagined how it must feel to have a piece of him and her growing into a beautiful creature inside her.

Either of those, I thought, I could only ever dream of.

As I glanced at my friends, Aaliya's eyes glistening with happiness and Husna listening to her with genuine happiness and love in her eyes, I felt blessed to have them in my life.

When our eyes met, we three smiled, the secrets I feared to utter being conveyed through my eyes as their smiles faltered at the unshed wetness of my eyes and the smile beneath it.

I was happy, beyond happy for Aaliya.

But the tears were there for a reason, and no matter how much I tried, they never left me. The tears never left me.

They hugged me, and we were in a mini group hug, and this time I didn't stop my fears and secrets to free fall from my eyes in the form of tears.