𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 - 𝘡𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

Betrayal

It wasn't death that scared him, it was what happened after. Pondering mortality became one of his favorite past times. Reaching for books that swore they knew all the answers.

He searched for a million answers every since he was a kid. Noise was the playlist of his life there was always someone louder than him, he was a quiet kid who became a quiet teen who became a quiet adult. And it wasn't like their was a lack of thoughts in his head, he just didn't find it necessary for the rest of the world to hear them.

Which is why he stood in solitary watching his mother iron his gold embezzled sherwani, watching her carefully dote after all the wedding preparations. Trying her best to be the perfect Pakistani mom, even though her skin said other wise. He knew his mothers journey into being his fathers wife was difficult, his fathers side disapproved of the gori his father brought home.

He had always had a cultured upbringing, thinking of himself as Pakistani not half white. He spent his weekends at the neighborhood mosque and watched Bollywood movies on Saturday nights. His relationship with Allah was difficult, he found comfort in the prophets words and embraced the Islamic part of his life, he just didn't fiercely identify with it like the rest of his family had. For a long time he felt broken in that sense, in culpable of understanding the universe he was brought to.

And maybe that's why he faked a smile, while trying on the gold sherwani which had emerald jewels on the color, that shone and played tricks in the bright lights of the wedding hall. The color reminding him of him. It was his nikah he should be overjoyed if anything.

"Sonshine," he heard his mum's soft voice beckon for his attention. "You look dashing."

"Thanks mum," Zayn smiled in return. Gazing at the wedding guests, woman draped in vibrant magenta's and periwinkles saris and men in decadent Kurtas and sharp suits. His eyes scanned the wedding hall looking for one in particular.

"Looking for someone?" His mum questioned her brown knitted in a slight furrow.

"No just looking," he smiled, assuring her that everything was fine.

"You know," his mum started, "I really like Jelena, wow," she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with her dupatta, "you guys are growing up so fast. You know it's crazy that wow we did this."

"Awe mum don't cry," he held his mum as she sniffled. The matter of Jelena was more complex that it may seem, on the outside it was a beautiful union of two individuals. And perhaps it was, Jelena or Gigi and him had loads of similarities, both of them being biracial with white mums and being confused religiously. She was a great friend, and they spent hours in college getting high and discoursing about the mixed kid diaspora.

So when, the prospect of marriage was brought up within the two families who was he to outright deny? He smiled and said yes, because Gigi was perfect right? Beautiful, educated, slightly ignorant at moments. So he asked her baba for her hand in marriage, and this happened.

The problem was that she wasn't him. She wasn't the dimple cheeked boy who had emeralds for eyes. She was soft and feminine in all the places he was lean and strong.

His eyes scanned over the wedding hall one last time looking for his reassuring smile, and thumbs up. He reluctantly invited him the day prior, he left a text and voicemail when he didn't pick up the phone. He knew he saw the text? And was only hoping for his presence.

"Beta, are you hungry?" Noor Auntie came from nowhere, the overwhelming blend of her cheap perfume and samosas infiltrated his nostrils. "Looking so handsome. Mashallah!"

"Thank you Auntie, and no I'm not hungry I ate before don't worry," he said in scrambled Urdu,

"No no," she tutted under her breath, "look how skinny you've gotten, I will get a plate for me just wait." She waddled out of the room.

"It's almost time for the nikah beta," his mother whispered under her breath. Before leaving to help in the kitchen.

His father came to his quarters later, his father the man that probably didn't even realize how much he impacted Zayn. Ever since Zayn was a kid he looked up-to Yaser as some kind of a guide, the lighthouse that shown over his sea of hopes and dreams. His dads approval meant so much more to him then what he let on. He studied his dads mannerisms ever since he was a kid, because he was the masculinity he looked up to. In a house of sisters his dad represented to him what a real man was. A gentle giant, someone who stands his ground and moves it for others.

His father made a few remarks before he left, something Zayn told me too keep private as I'm writing this anecdotal portrayal of Zayns life.

But as Zayn approached the hall for the nikah, feeling the gaze of relatives burn holes into the back of his turban. His hand reaching to sigh the contract, Gigi's veiled face. The prayers muttered by the mullah, his gaze lowered.

When the nikah was over, and the after maths of the ceremony took over. The food, perhaps the best part of the ceremony, the younger Zayn would argue. He reached for a paper plate which was later taken away from him and filled to the brim with food.

He ate and kept a smile greeting relatives and friends. His large brown eyes searching for green eyes.

And he spotted them. In the back of the hall, dressed in trousers and a jumper looking obscurely out of place. It was almost as if they air became all too hot in the span of seconds, his sherwani felt itchy and the emeralds flashed too loudly. His world was spinning and he kept staring at those emerald green eyes, and Harry's eyes found Zayns large ones. And it was like a spark exploded between them. A million emotions captured in a single gaze. Hurt, happiness, devotion, reminiscent of love, but mostly betrayal woven in Harry's eyes.

Betrayal.