it became noisy. Hoorain and Shaheen had escorted Zoha down the stairs, making sure her long kameez didn't get stuck anywhere nor she accidentally tripped on it. Before this, Zoha hadn't seen the living area decked out like this. The placement of furniture had altered the entire look. And over that there were lots of guests. More than she expected.

As she made her way to the embellished swing, designed one and only for her, the ladies looked in awe and curiosity to see, who was Shehryaar's bride. There were few murmurs of Ma Shaa Allah. Haven't ever seen her. She is so pretty. Naseeb daar. May Allah keep them happy. Some young unmarried girls rose from their seats and started clicking pictures before they missed the once-in-a-lifetime moment. The older ladies stayed seated and watched.

Saliha stepped in the front, as Zoha sat down and Hoorain and Shaheen fixed her into a comfortable position. And gave a sadka, casting away the evil eye, from her daughter-in-law. Yumna was there too. Like always she recited a dua and blew it on her for the protection.

"Ma Shaa Allah. Allah bus nazr-e-bad se bachai," Saliha said. She put a hand on Zoha's head.

Hoorain and Shaheen stepped on the side so Saliha could unwrap the cellophane from the sweet plate and start with the sweet feeding rasam.

Zoha's hand were a bit shaky. She did not look up much so she didn't feel nervous and self-conscious. There were so many ladies who looked directly at her, observing her clothes, her face and about everything from head to toe.

As she sat there, being fed gulab jamun, laddu, kalakand, and sohan halwa, she grew thirst of water. Her mouth was too sweet. She felt like eating something spicy or salty, which was direct opposite of sugar. But she knew she wouldn't be fed anything like that. More people meant more sweets and waiting longer for all of this to be over.

"Hoorain," Zoha called in a low voice. She made an eye contact with her so if she hadn't heard her, she got the signal Zoha needed her.

When Hoorain looked-sitting in the circle of girls, singing and clapping, while some expert old aunty played dhol, (drum-like instrument considered traditional in Pakistani culture in weddings) she immediately excused herself out of the moment and came over to serve her bride-friend.

"What happened? Do you need something?" she asked Zoha, bending over close to her face.

"Can you bring me some water?"

"Because of the sweets, right?" Hoorain laughed. "I will bring it." She went away.

Zoha quietly cleared her throat and fixed the kajrey in her hands, as they kept sliding down. Her palms were clammy from keeping them in one position, one hand over the other.

Fariqa got up from among the guests and came over to Zoha and sat with her.

"Zoha, you look really pretty," she said that every time she saw Zoha, and Zoha sometimes shied away and sometimes said thank you. It was too overwhelming for her.

"You must be tired of sitting right?" Fariqa said.

"I am more tired of eating the same sweets," Zoha chuckled.

"Bilkul." Fariqa laughed.

"Hoorain went to get water. My mouth got too sweet." Zoha was tasting the aftertaste. It started to turn weirdly sour.

"Oh acha."

"Bus jaldi aiye."

Fariqa fixed Zoha's dupatta from the side that was stuck under the velvet cushion.

After couple of seconds, Hoorain returned holding the glass of water, protecting it from the people passing by.

"Here." She carefully handed the glass to Zoha. "I could hardly find the glass in the kitchen. I looked in all the cabinets."

Zoha took a sip of water to quench her insane thirst and then said. "Wasn't Rumina there?"

"No."

"Weird. Today is the big event and she is not there."

"Maybe Saliha aunty sent her away," Hoorain said, watching as Zoha drank.

"I don't know if she had."

"Khair," Hoorain said. "Be ready. There is going to be another rasam. Haldi wali. (Turmeric paste)."

"Waqai?" Fariqa jollied.

"Why do they do that?" Zoha said.

"It gives a glow to your skin. When tomorrow you dress up for the Nikah, you will look extra beautiful."

Zoha felt shy whenever anyone mentioned her about looking beautiful. She didn't think she was that beautiful. She was decent looking.

After Hoorain told there will be another rasam, Zoha started imagining how all the tumeric paste would look on her. This was the rasam that she wasn't really aware of, because she never went to anyone's mehndi function nor was she never invited to one. Hoorain had a big family and she always had something going on. That was how she knew so much about wedding events and Zoha often found herself lucky to be best friends with her. She always guided her.

"What about my mehndi?" Zoha said.

"There are two girls who will put it on," Hoorain said. "Hold up." She got up.

"Take this glass too," Zoha said,

Hoorain took the glass that had some water left and placed it on the table nearby. Then went over to the two girls who looked about in their early twenties; they were dressed in decent kurti and matching tights. Hoorain spoke to them and after some sort of agreement they came over.

"They are going to do your mehndi," Hoorain said.

"Okay." Zoha settled in the position she was most comfortable sitting and took off her flower bangles.

One of the girl, in medium long ponytail, wearing sea-green designed kurti, and white tights, sat on the left of Zoha. While the other one who was a bit taller than her, sat on the right. They picked the mehndi cone and tested the mehndi for its flow consistency. For the most part it came out good on the tissue. It little bit got stuck in the beginning, which was normal since all cones worked that way.

When they finally started putting the mehndi, Zoha made sure she didn't move. She thought holding her breath would stop her shakiness. But it made her more out of breath and then pant. So she determined to stay normal and go with the flow.

After some time, Saliha came around to see how things were with Zoha. She was smiling ebulliently.

"Chalo mehndi toh start kardi. I was just about to ask the girls." Saliha's dupatta was hanging down her shoulders, covering half of her body. It didn't seem to bother her, as if she had dealt with the georgette enough and had given up.

"Jee aunty. I just told them," Hoorain said.

"Thank you, beta. You are a good help," Saliha said, giving a wide, blissful smile.

"Arey, aunty, koi baat nahi."

Saliha didn't stick around for longer. She went back and blended in with the guests.

Hoorain sat near Zoha and watched the process. "Now I really feel like getting mine's done."

"Why don't you get it done too?" Zoha said.

"I don't know if we will have the time after yours?"

"Agar ho sakey toh tum bhi laga lena." (If you get a chance you should get it done also).

"I know. I want to get it done. Otherwise wedding doesn't feel like wedding. I always got it done when I was little remember?" Hoorain laughed. "Those childhood days and all the preparations."

"You should definitely get it done," Zoha said, intending not to move.

"I will. I really want to. It won't be fun without it."

"Yes of course."

With incredible speed, one of the mehndi artist finished left hand and waited for it to dry. The other one had slower speed, but her designs were very intricate. She was working her way to the palm with perfection.

"Have you seen Manal anywhere?" Zoha asked. She had been so caught up in mehndi that she barely realized she hadn't seen Manal. The whole time.

Hoorain wandered her gaze among the guests. "I don't know. I haven't seen her either."

"Shouldn't we ask bari ammi?" Zoha concerned.

"I will go ask her." Hoorain never stayed in one place. She always obliged around with small tasks.

Zoha sighed, wishing for the mehndi process to be over so she could ease her back. There were still her feet left for which she would had to move around. It was laborious to sit still, sticking her body in one posture for so long. Her mehndi clothes were fancy. With her hands filled up, she felt helpless to slide the dress this way and that way.

When Hoorain came back, Zoha immediately asked her to fix the dupatta first and then switched to asking about Manal.

"Saliha aunty is saying Manal is not feeling well. She has cold and a slight fever," Hoorain said.

"Since when? Why didn't she tell me before?"

"I don't know, yaar. Manal is in her room, resting. Poor girl."

"I feel so bad now that I didn't know Manal was sick," Zoha said.

"Who knows if it happened today."

"But Bari ammi should have at least informed me. Manal must be missing out all this so much."

"I know."

Zoha planted her gaze at her hand and fell thinking.

"In Shaa Allah she will feel better by tomorrow if she rests today," Hoorain said.

"In Shaa Allah."

"Do you want to eat something? There is appetizer."

"Just bring me something that is not sweet. And water too."

"Okay." Hoorain got up again.

Zoha was alone on the swing. The mehndi artists were sitting on the ottomans. They had been busy since the past hour and a half. Zoha asked if they would like to take a break and perhaps munch on some appetizer. When Hoorain returned with the plate of chana chaat and a glass of water. Zoha told that mehndi artists were taking a break. So they went away to grab something to eat, while Hoorain fed Zoha.

**************

Saliha kept making sure that ladies had taken the appetizer. She called Rumina for help, when earlier she told her there wouldn't be anything to do. There were gifts of Zoha that were heaped up on the glass coffee table. She asked Rumina to bring them all to Zoha's room, neatly place on her bed since they were her Nikah's clothes, jewelry, sandals, bangles and other gifts from Yumna.

Since everyone was busy with each other, enjoying and eating, Saliha slipped into check Manal. She worried about her fever. Last time she checked was one point one. It wasn't worse, but she didn't seem to feel better either.

"My love, please. You have to take medicine to feel better," Saliha said.

Manal laid under the comforter, torn from her sleep when Saliha came into the room and flipped on the lights.

"Mummy, please," she resented the disturbance. Her eyes could barely open in the sudden flash.

"Mera bacha, I know you think I am bothering by coming again and again. But I am worried that your fever will shoot up." Saliha pressed the back of her hand on Manal's forehead. "Come on, beta. You are my good girl, right?"

Manal coughed dry and a tear trickled down the side of her face.

"Look you still have the dry cough."

"I don't feel like eating anything," she whined, rubbing her eyes.

"You have to. Tomorrow is Nikah and you can't be in bed like this, my child." Saliha slipped her hand under Manal's neck and tried lifting her back.

On the wall near the curtains, was Manal's mehndi dress, hanging on the hanger, ironed ready to be worn. On the dressing table there were her bangles and a jewelry set. But because of her sudden sickness everything was left untouched.

"Do you want to eat so then you can take the medicine?"

"I just want to drink water." Manal slipped out of comforter and sat up on bed.

Saliha looked on the bedside. The jug of water was empty.

"You also have to eat something."

"What is to eat?" Manal said.

"We are gonna have dinner soon. There will be pilau."

Manal paused and thought for a moment. Then looked at her mother staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"Okay," she replied.

"Good girl." Saliha gave a smile. "Go wash your face and hands. And make your hair."

Manal scrambled out of bed and went to the bathroom on her crutches. Saliha took the jug of water and stood up.

"I will make your plate as soon as the food is set," she said before leaving the room.

************

She went to the kitchen, filled up the jug with warm and little bit cold water. And left it on the counter. She stood there and thought. She invited Rubab and Faiza for the mehndi since she had attended Faiza's wedding last month, forgetting the past and offering another chance to make their relationship better. But today Rubab didn't come on mehndi. Saliha remembered when she called to invite, Rubab said yes. I will come if I get a chance. Saliha said, you have to come. There are no excuses. I will be more than happy if you do. That small part of the conversation kept playing in her head. She recalled how excited she was that Rubab would come and things were finally changing for the good.

But today. She had left Saliha thinking about the past mistakes that she thought she wouldn't have to think about. At least not when she was embarking on the new path of bringing her own family together and doing her best to keep them happy.

She lifted the jug of water from the counter, feeling the glassy weight sitting on her hands and started heading back to Manal's room. She had just reached the living area, that she noticed two guests, the older one dressed in decent pale yellow embroidered kameez with white shalwar, and the younger one, wearing darker shade of green kurti and yellow capri style pants, walk in.

Saliha was at disbelief. She blinked twice, adjusting the jug in her both hands and gazed at those two guests.

Rubab?

Was that her with Faiza?

She still couldn't accept the sight of them two in her house after such long time.

Instead of going to Manal's room, she placed the jug on the table nearby and incredulously marched to her sister.

"Rubab?" Saliha shocked.

"How are you?" Rubab said. "The house looks beautiful."

"I am good. I thought you weren't gonna come," Saliha couldn't resist her thoughts from pouring out of her tongue.

"I got late because of Faiza. Azhar had some work so he came home late and then he drove her to my house. "

Looking at Rubab for a while made Saliha forget that Faiza was standing by, lips pursed in silence.

"How are you, beta?" she asked. "How's Azhar?"

Faiza took no serious interest in Saliha's formality. She maintained her silence and kept looking somewhere else.

"Chalo ab andr bhi aaney dogi ya nahi?" (Are you gonna let us in or hold us here?) Rubab laughed and dusted off the one-sided interaction between Faiza and Saliha.

Saliha smiled. "Oh no, come in."

Rubab looked happy. She was constantly gazing at the decoration that had already stolen every guests' attention. Saliha escorted her sister to a nice place to sit and ran to grab a plate of sweets from the food table.

"Here, Rubab. Muh meetha karo,"she said, offering her laddu.

Rubab's smile gradually died away, and she looked at the sweet. Then pierced a glance at Saliha, like what was she offering.

Saliha was surprised at her hesitancy. She was standing in front of her, paused in her gesture.

"Rubab, muh meetha karo." She picked the laddu and started feeding it.

Rubab lightly clasped Saliha's hand and backed it away from her mouth. "This is not necessary," she said.

Saliha's merry smiled curved down. Flush of wavering humiliation imbued her face, as she withdrew her hand, unable to form words in her defense and put the laddu back in the plate.

"I just came here for you," Rubab said. "Don't mind this." She looked at the plate of sweets.

Saliha's lips were sealed in silence. She very much didn't appreciate how she displayed their personal conflict to others and gave them a reason to gossip their relationship. She knew it wasn't the best idea to offer her the sweet, but she was also well aware that most of the guests knew Rubab was her sister.

Without saying anything, she turned around and walked away, hoping in her heart that no one noticed the slight uneasiness on her face. She put the plate on the table and headed to Manal's room.

On the other side of the bed, back turned to Saliha, Manal was sitting, her head hung low. She was coughing and sniffling her stuffy nose. Saliha realized that she had forgotten to bring the jug of water. Her daughter was suffering like this for how long, she wondered.

She hurried out of the room, picked the jug from the kitchen and darted back.

"Sorry, beta, for taking this long." She filled the glass of water and gave it to Manal.

"Mummy, my throat is hurting," Manal moaned. "Please do something."

Saliha shifted her thoughts from Rubab and paid her mind to her daughter. "I went to see if the food was delivered, but.."

Manal drank the water, troubled at every swallow. Her lips were ashen. Her eyes were weary from sickness. When Saliha halted at "but," she looked at her with an inactive curiosity.

"What?" she said. The glass was sitting on her lap.

Saliha charged her uneasy gaze on Manal, unsure if it was a good idea to already mention about Rubab.

"You know...your Rubab khala is here?" Saliha said. "I just met her when I went out." Knocked with surprise.

Manal looked at Saliha.

"I had invited her, but I didn't expect her to come."

"When?"

"I didn't tell anyone about this except Zoha."

"But why?" Manal was already irritated and after hearing that she seemed flustered. "Mujhey khala bilkul achi nahi lagtin." (I really don't like Rubab Khala)

"I only invited her because she...she invited us on Faiza's wedding." Saliha realized how much of a fool she was to just even say that, far alone doing it.

"I am happy I didn't go. That girl doesn't deserve such respect," Manal spat. "You shouldn't have invited her."

"Now I think that too."

Saliha was lost in the collection of thoughts. She imagined the relationship between the two sister like a crooked line of crack running down the middle of the mirror and the reflection in it was worse than the reality. She realized, unlike all the other times, that it wasn't her fault. She did her best to save their sisterly love, but Rubab wasn't just getting over the old things. She had fixed her mind on one intention and that was to keep the distance from Saliha. Treat her like the enemy from the past and shine light on what once happened between them.

Saliha's guilt swelled in her chest. She tried to tell that even when she had done bad to her and had broken her daughter's heart. She didn't mean to do them on purpose. As much agony Rubab suffered. Saliha went through the same pain. Her sister was the only person who she loved the most and feared the most of losing. She couldn't let it end like that. Not even in her most terrifying nightmare.

"Is Faiza there too?" Manal irked.