On the outside desi weddings seem like a scene straight out of a fairytale, complete with a beautifully decorated castle, a prince, a princess, kings and queens, the evil witch or witches, the court jester, a multitude of servants and then the extras...whose job it is to eat, be merry and add to the festivities.

At Maliha's wedding she and her husband, Hasan, were obviously the princess and prince, respectively. The in-laws were kings and queens. Moin, our younger brother, was the court jester. The aunties who passed unnecessary comments were the evil witches. And my role spanned a one-man servant party, the perceived evil witch when I talked back to the aforementioned aunties instead of just ignoring them, and the extra when I just needed to take a break from everything.

I had to admit that I was pleasantly surprised at Hasan's family. His father may have been a business tycoon across two countries (India and US), but he was the most humble person in the room when you met him. And I loved his mom. She was the prototypical warm, cuddly housewife, who would not hesitate to praise you and make you feel good about yourself even when you entered the room with scrubs and your hair all over the place.

Hasan too, was down-to-earth, and clearly adored Maliha. There was also an older brother, Faraz, who seemed to be the face of the the brothers' tech startup, because of which he travelled a lot and I hadn't seen him at any of the dinners and meetings that the two families had before the actual wedding.

After weeks of planning, Maliha and Hasan were finally going to get married today, an exceptionally cold December day. But as Chicagoans, the cold never bothered us and wasn't going to stop anyone from attending the day's festivities. As a testament to how amazingly humble Hasan's family was, we were having a joint reception at a local hotel that was certainly not the 5-star hotel that they were probably used to, but which was decent enough and was affordable for my family, especially as the cost was split with Hasan's family. The Nikah was going to first happen at the local mosque in the afternoon with just some close relatives and friends, followed by the reception later in the evening.

But despite the sharing of costs, the labor was not exactly equally divided. Hasan's family had a slew of helpers, including, a cook and a chauffer. On our side it was just us family members trying to pull everything together. Luckily, I had the foresight to take the whole week off, so I wasn't having to rush back-and-forth between work and home.

It was also lucky...because it got me away from a situation at work, that was spiraling out of control, mostly because of how I handled the last two days of my ICU rotation more than a month ago.

Madi, today is not the day to think about your ICU rotation...

Its not like my sister had given me an opportunity to think about anything besides her, anyway. I could tell that she was nervous about the wedding day, and she was dealing with it by turning into a bridezilla.

"MADIIII, I can't find my shoes...", Maliha yelled from her room, "Who keeps moving all my stuff?"

God help me!

I took a deep breath, and walked into her room. She was wearing her Nikah dress, a chai pink silk kameez with straight pants, and had light make up on. The morning sun shone through her window playing with the highlights in her thick hair that I had helped her pin up with soft curls bouncing along her cheeks.

She really is a sight to behold, till she opens her mouth that is...

"My shoes were right there...", she shrieked at a pile of clothes on the floor, "I swear, if I find out that Moin is playing a prank on me right now...I will strangle him with my own two hands..."

Honestly, today that might not be such a bad thing. Because while my sister had always responded to a stressful situation by turning into a maniac, my brother turned into an unreliable bufoon. Everything became a joke, deadlines were just suggestions, and tasks became optional for him.

And me? Well...I quietly recited the poem 'If' by Rudyard Kipling. Dealing with my family was nothing short of trying to resuscitate a patient sometimes.

"Calm down Maliha...they are probably right under all these clothes"

And, of course they were...

"Anything else I can do to help you?", I asked in a calm tone, even though inside I was fuming at her for creating so much drama.

"WATER...I need water!!", she replied in a weird high-pitched voice, "My throat is dry, why does it keep becoming so dry?"

Aah...her stress response is kicking in...suspending any production of saliva from the glands in her mouth

"Maliha...I'll get you water, but take a deep breath. You look beautiful...don't ruin it by getting so worked up", I held her by the shoulders, and looked right into her hazel eyes.

That technique worked with manic patients, and I was hoping it would with her too.

She took a deep breath, "Ok...ok...thanks Madi...I don't know what is happening to me"

"You are about to marry a man, that I am pretty sure you are already falling in love with...", I smiled at her as she blushed and I helped her pin up her dupatta, "Come on...the rest of the family is ready to leave for the Nikah ceremony, let's not keep them waiting"

As I was about to leave her room though, she stopped me, "Madi...wait...what does falling in love feel like? How do I know what I am feeling is me falling in love...or me just having a schoolgirl crush on a good looking boy"

I looked at her for a few seconds, deciding whether or not to answer that question. Its not like I didn't know the answer, I just didn't want to admit that I knew the answer. But she was looking at me with such puppy eyes, I didn't have it in me to hold back.

"Maliha...it feels like your life will be completely empty without that one person, as if they hold the key to your happiness and inner peace. You think about them all the time, and that makes you do things that you would never do...like scream at a pile of clothes", I smiled at her.

Or yell at an intern in the middle of the residents room...

"And it makes you want to fiercely protect them, but also give them space so you don't smother them. Their achievements make you proud, and their pain hurts you. You want to tell them about your innermost fears, but you worry that it will change their perception of you. But then you find yourself smiling randomly in the middle of the hallway...or at noon conference...remembering the words they once said to you"

"Noon conference?", Maliha interrupted my thoughts.

"I am sorry...I...uh...I meant like in the middle of the work day...", I stuttered, hoping that Maliha would not read too much into the description I had given. I had tried to give her a pretty generic description of being in love.

"Is this about Jawad? Before he turned into a mean old man? Were you falling in love with him?", my sister rapidly fired questions at me.

"No...this is a description I read in Cosmopolitan once...it's not about anyone in particular...come on we have to go!"

Liar...this is about an intern, who you pushed away.

I shook my head, to clear any memories of the last two days of my ICU rotation. This was not the time to dwell on those two days. Besides, words once said cannot be taken back, no matter how much you want to.

We finally made it to the mosque and I took Maliha into the women's enclosure. Mosques in the US, were more like community centers than just places of worship. And this particular mosque was relatively newly built, and had beautiful Islamic architecture with a modern flair. Opposite to the main prayer hall were smaller event halls where events like Nikah ceremonies were typically held.

Maliha and I were alone in the women's enclosure while the rest of our family and some of my parent's close friends went to meet Hasan's family.

"How are you feeling now?", I asked Maliha, who hadn't said much since we had left our home.

She blushed and covered her face with her hands briefly, before looking at me again, "I think I am in love..."

Aww...

I couldn't help but give her a big hug. She was my baby sister and I could not have been more happy for her.

"Hasan is the luckiest man in the world. And you know what...I've seen the way he looks at you, I think he is very much in love with you too...", I grinned at my sister, who was turning a darker shade of pink by the second.

And then we hugged again, and got our necklaces tangled up. But as we untangled them, we both were overcome with a fit of laughter so loud, our mom came in and told us to quit acting like little girls. Not that our mom's stern words could prevent us from breaking our sisterly bond.

We were still giggling when Maliha's tone became more serious, "Madi...can I say something that I have always thought about but never really said to you...?"

"What will you do if I say no?"

I laughed when she immediately said, "I would just shout it out anyway..."

"Ok, go ahead...little sis...what's on you mind?"

She had a serious look on her face, and started speaking slowly, "Ever since I have been a kid I have looked up to you, like literally...whenever I am faced with a decision, my first thought always is WWMD"

"WWMD?", I asked, confused.

"Yes...What Would Madi Do", she said giving me a cheeky smile, "You've taught me and Moin so much, I think we sometimes just assume that you are so strong that don't actually need us. But I know that's not always true. And I am really sorry that I haven't been there for you more often, like a real sister"

"Oh Maliha, I would do anything for you guys..."

My baby sister was all grown up and that filled me such a sense of pride, that I wondered if older siblings were sent to this world as back-up parents. I sure did think of my siblings as my little kids sometimes, and maybe treated them like that too!

We hugged again, this time making sure that our necklaces did not get entangled. But as we separated again, Maliha looked at me and said, "Speaking of WWMD, do you know what Madi would not do? Read a Cosmopolitan magazine! So who is he?"

What?

"No...no one", I managed to mumble before my mom and her friends entered the women's enclosure to escort Maliha to the event hall for the Nikah ceremony.

She didn't say anything more in front of my mom, but as I walked next to her the short distance to the event hall, she whispered to me, "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Porsche driver would it?"

"Maliha...!!", I turned towards her stunned that she had seen Omar drop me off. It wasn't a secret, and I wasn't doing anything wrong, but as a general rule I was not the kind of woman who sat in cars with men I wasn't related to, especially that late at night.

Omar was different...but still, I felt bad that I hadn't mentioned it to anyone and when dad asked me how I had gotten home, I just said a friend dropped me off. Which I am sure he thought was a female friend.

Ok, focus Madi...not the time to get distracted by him.

Maliha was now surrounded with women from her in-laws side as well our side, so I stepped aside and let them 'ooh' and 'aah' over her.

Soon the Nikah ceremony happened, both bride and groom said 'Qabool hai' (I accept) and the Imam pray for the couples health, and happiness and longevity. It was a simple ceremony, with about 15-20 people from each side of the family, but for Maliha and Hasan it meant that the budding romance between them had no bounds now. It was so obvious that they were in love, the way they gazed at each other, and leaned into each other and giggled, and the way he gently touched her elbow to guide her to a nearby table that was set up for them.

Just like Noor and Salman...everyone can apparently find someone, except me.

It was almost noon so I congratulated Maliha and her husband again and told my mom that I was going to go start setting up lunch, which we had gotten catered from a nearby Mediterranean restaurant. But maybe I should have stayed a bit longer among people, because as soon as I stepped into the kitchen area where all the delivered food was kept and the quietness surrounded me, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what had happened after I left Noor's room once we had administered treatment for the throat swelling she had developed.

I had just reached the residents room when Omar had barged in and declared that he would never have forgiven me if something had happened to Noor, because he hadn't been able to keep an eye on her while he was roaming the hospital looking for me. Even though I was beating myself up about the same thing, when he said it, it was like a fuse was lit inside me and everything exploded in to that residents room.

I accused him of neglecting all the other patients on our service, and only being concerned about Noor. I told him that he needed to quit being in love with her, and that he should be ashamed of harboring those feelings for a married woman in the first place. The resident room was unfortunately still empty other than the two of us at that time, and so I had continued my rant telling him that I didn't want to be his senior resident anymore, or his colleague, or friend...and that if he was so hell bent on surgery, he should just leave the internal medicine program right away.

He had tried to say something initially, but then gave up and just stood there listening to me. His expression going from concerned, to disbelief to anger. The only reason I stopped yelling was because Jake had entered the room, but that made me take things a step further.

"Jake, is Liam still being a pain to you?", I has asked him, and he when he nodded I told him, "For the next two days you'll be my intern and Omar can work with Liam. I am going to request the residency office to change the call listing right away"

Omar's expression was icy cold when he turned on his heels and left the room. But if I expected that my deranged speech and actions would make me feel better, that is not what happened at all. I felt worse than I had ever before, I was heartbroken, but also embarrassed and full of self-hatred.

I didn't hear or see him again for another week when he stopped me after noon conference, and simply said,

"Madi...I have no idea what happened in the ICU, but I'm truly sorry for saying what I did. I just wanted to let you know that I did apply for surgery residency. I'll be out of here as soon as I get a spot"

There was no warmth in his eyes, or softness in voice when he said that. It was as if he was a different person and it was all because of me.

I had mumbled an apology to him too, not because I wasn't truly apologetic, but because I was just caught off guard and hadn't been able to get the words out properly before he turned round and left. After that I had seen him a few times during conferences and in the hallways, but he didn't even so much as glance at me.

I deserve that...as much as I also deserve feeling empty inside.

Over the weeks my regret had only increased. I realized that even if Omar was never into me romantically, he had done something to me. I had never felt more alive than I did working with him, and maybe having him as just a colleague or a friend was worth it after all. Because without him, I felt stuck in the same rut that I was in before him.

"Helllooooo, are you high or something", my brother's irritating voice cut through my misery.

"Moin...behave yourself!", I retorted, "What do you want?"

"Mama told me to bring all the food out...but since it is still in neatly packed containers I will come back in a little while...", Moin winked at me and tried to turn and leave, but I caught him by his collar just in time.

He may be half a foot taller than me, but he was also 8 years younger than me, so I was free to treat him however I wanted.

"Not so fast, Moin...help me take this stuff out"

"Oww...you're manhandling me...", he complained but got to work anyway.

Moin and I managed to lay all the food in fancy platters on the nicely decorated buffet table. Us three siblings had come by the day before and laid out all the nice cutlery and dinnerware and did some basic decorations of the tables we had set up. For a 40-45 people Nikah and lunch party, I would say that the place looked pretty decent.

I stood by the table as the guests took food, keeping an eye on which dishes needed refilling. I may also have threatened Moin a few times, when he didn't listen to me and go to refill the dishes as needed. Papa was manning the beverage table and the dessert table, while Mama and Maliha's mom attended to the newly Nikahfied couple.

I had just sent Moin to the kitchen to get more naan bread, when I heard a voice behind me.

"So you're my counterpart on Maliha's side of the family?"

I swung around to see a man of average height, with a head full of hair that was swept to the side, neatly trimmed beard and glasses, who with his business suit and rolex watch looked like he had just come out of a board meeting.

"Hi...I am Faraz. Hasan happens to be my thorn-in-the-side little brother. I hear you run the show in the Ahmed family", he smiled holding out his hand.

I shook his hand and replied, "I am Madiha, call me Madi. And yes, somehow I end up running the show whether I like it or not..."

"Yeah...tell me about it. I've been running around all over the country talking to our investors while little brother here insists on staying in Chicago", he nodded towards Maliha and Hasan, but then quickly added, "Don't tell Maliha I was complaining though...I am not, it's actually nice to travel alone"

"Your secret is safe with me...", I chuckled.

"And I hear you're a physician? At University Hospital of Illinois? That's an amazing institution. You must be the smartest one in the family as well!"

I nodded along and when he finished said, "Isn't that part and parcel of being the oldest? Being the smartest, most responsible sibling"

We both laughed and chatted a bit more before he left, leaving me thankful that Maliha was going to be part of a such a nice family.

The reception later in the day was a success. Since it was at a hotel, the staff there managed the dinner and decorations etc, so I was able to kick back and relax at my only sister's wedding. Maliha looked radiant in a traditional red gharara and her husband wore a sherwani. I actually felt bold enough to wear a turquoise saari with gold embroidery.

I got some compliments and lots of hugs, but then also some weird looks from the extended family members. Unfortunately, I soon overheard a conversation between two women, neither of whom I knew, which explained the weird looks.

"Bari behan ke features tou buray nahi hai, leikan bechari ka rung pata nahi kyun itna sanwla hai. Shukr hai Maliha ka rung sahi hai (The older sister's facial features are not bad, but I don't know why the poor thing's color is so dark. Thankfully Maliha's color is ok)", aunty #1 said.

Aunty #2 chimed in, "Bari behan ki mangni bhi tooti hai abhi recently. Koi keh raha tha, doctor hai, or career bananay ke khatir shaadi se inkaar kar diya tha (Older sister's engagement also broke recently. Someone was saying, she is a doctor, and in order to make her career refused to get married)"