Because, honestly, I love you for who you really are. But I just don’t want you to lose who you are. “It doesn’t matter, Zoya,” Sara says after a moment of silence. And right after the mishap, her parents would forget about it since they believe it is a phase as soon as she gets married.īut she doesn’t want to keep it up anymore. They were blasting heavy metal music and singing their hearts until the heat of the moment got to both Sara and Zoya.
What is she supposed to do when she loves her parents without breaking their hearts? They were upset when they found her and Sara kissing during one of their study sessions (and she is still ashamed of thinking about that moment). She doesn’t mean to hurt Sara when she has to go through marriage proposals one after another. “This must be hurting you,” Zoya manages to say since her throat feels tight. Zoya notices Sara’s black lipstick is smeared, so she fixes it up with her thumb.
The tension ebbs away before Sara’s lips peel from Zoya’s, but not too far. Her eyes widen before she closes them, taking in the kiss and the embrace she is receiving from Sara. Without any hesitation, Sara leans her face close, pressing her lips against Zoya. And you shouldn’t need your parents’ approval such as this.” Sara rests her forehead against Zoya’s as she cups her cheek. “Hate to break this to you they think they know best, but they don’t. She feels a hand on her shoulder, and Zoya turns to see Sara giving her an empathetic smile. “If I don’t go through with this, my parents…” Zoya shrugs while hugging herself as she looks away. “And going through this marriage isn’t one of them.” “You have options,” Sara exclaims loudly before clearing her throat and speaks softly this time. “You know, you don’t have to go through this, Zoya.” It’s usual for newlyweds to be nervous.” Then Sara’s expression slightly turns somber, concern written on her face. Zoya plumps down on the bed next to her friend and holds her knees. “I don’t look like myself, right?” she asks as she looks back at the mirror before staring at Sara. Her face lightens into a smile as she looks at her friend. “No need to be that aggressive, Zoya.” Sara chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed. “You know me best.” She then chugs down the crisp golden liquid down and slams the glass on the desk drawer her vision shifting for a moment, however the panicky feeling dissipates-replaced by a burning sensation. Zoya rolls her eyes playfully but takes the glass off the tray and pours the cider. The smell of hard cider wafts into her nose. “I hope you’re in the mood for some drinks before the big moment,” her friend, Sara, jokes, as she extends the tray with two empty glasses and a pitcher. Her black hair with blue highlights are swept to the side. To her relief, a woman dressed in a suit and tie comes in, grinning. Zoya doesn’t have time to answer when the door opens. All she sees is a doll.Īre her thoughts normal, or could she be imagining things? Zoya looks like a princess, but she doesn’t want to be one. The elegant bun, the red lipstick, and the pink blush. Her stylist and her friends helped her with her hair and makeup. She shakes her head and glances at the mirror. Everyone wears colorful kurtas, saris, or lehengas, and to them, it feels lightweight.īut the red and gold lehenga Zoya wears feels heavy. Everyone is chatting and laughing, while the kids are running around playing whatever games they came up with. Music is blasting from the speakers, while the decorations and food are laid out. Glancing down from her bedroom window, the festivities are going on without her. She keeps having this mantra that it’s going to be ok. And her lungs are constricted, and she wonders if it’s the blouse or last-minute jitters like any person who’s getting married. Her head and neck feels stiff from all the adornments she’s wearing.
There is so much weight around her arms as it is her skirt.
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