Hikayat ✔

Chap. 32

Airra puffed up her hair and pouted her lips. Then she turned her head scrutinizing her appearance left to right for the hundredth time before pursing her lips and nodding.

Even after that, as she left her room to present herself in front of her mother, a wave of insecurity passed over her.

She tightened her fist, strengthening herself.

"Mama?" Airaa knocked on her mother's door, softly. Then pushed it open.

Fatima Kamran turned away from her reflection and stared at her daughter with narrowed eyes.

Impeccably dressed in a gorgeous black sari, that hugged her form perfectly, adorned in glimmering diamonds with her make up excusite, giving her a sharper, regal look, Fatima Kamran looked every bit as the ideal woman Airaa wanted to be.

She gulped walking closer, wishing she could be more like her mother but she could never do anything right.

"Is this.. Is this f..fine..?" She asked her mother, hating the uncontrollable stammer of her tongue. It came about unexpectedly when she got truly scared or nervous. When she was little she'd completely stop talking when this happened but now she tried her best to speak slow and keep it away.

Her mother's cold fingers pulled on her collar and straightened the front.

"Hmm...." sharp eyes inspected her make up and jewellery, "Yes, it's fine." She patted her shoulder and turned back to the mirror setting her pleats.

No, 'MashaAllah bete.'

No, 'Ahaa, meri beti kitni pyari lag rahi hai.'

Of course not, this was Fatima Kamran not Hafsa Abdullah. Beauty was secondary to perfection. So she focused on perfection. Noticed everything keenly and never smiled more than necessary.

Still, the approval made her heart beat evenly again.

Airaa sighed and gave her a small smile, "Okay, then I'll go check on the cake." she informed.

Fatima rolled her eyes. "I don't even know why you have to bake it yourself. Just a waste of time. You'll have chefs for you—"

Airra sucked in a breath, this wasn't the first time she was hearing this, "I wanted to mama." She spoke softly.

"Jani, why? This wasn't what was in my mind when I allowed you to learn baking. I just thought you wanted to learn a new skill, that's it. Not for you to make a habit of it. I am not going to tell the guests my daughter likes cooking and baking, like a regular middle-class girl, who has nothing more to do other than learn new dishes in hopes of getting a good husband. That's not my daughter. You're Airaa not Hania, V—"

"Mama—" she spoke up before Fatima could complete. Just that name got her uneasy.

Fatima raised a brow and she let out a soft breath deflating a little, "You don't have to let anyone know... That's not why I do it—"

"Then why?" She repeated confused.

If she was anybody else perhaps she would have cried in that moment. Her mother couldn't understand, couldn't grasp the simple concept that her daughter enjoyed cooking and baking, just because it was too typical of a hobby and Airaa had to be unique.

Clenching her jaw, she smiled and shrugged. Unable to reply.

Fatima turned away from the mirror, putting her hands on both of her shoulders and made Airaa look into her eyes, "You know, I love you baby. Hmm? And your father and I, we only want the best for our daughter. You're not an Ordinary girl, Airaa. You're unique. Haina?"