Romanza In Rome

|25|

• Lilah's outfit •

• Lilah •

Life works in ways that are nothing but a collection of memories. The essence of it varies with time and age. It is transfixed upon the pedestal that is your mind, rotating around its planes with nothing but a gold glow. It rivals the growth you dream of, ripping it away from the soft hands, leaving shards of glass embedded deep into the skin. From the bleeding reds do flowers bloom then, their soft — sweet sterling scents with the fuchsia shades take over. The rosy glasses are taken off thrown on to the dust ground as reality in truth becomes a collection of vivid pink lights, with deep red ambers flaming in.

Lilah's fingers twitched with unease at the heavily embellished dress she had chosen for her henna ceremony. The past two weeks were a flurry of colors and drives, her mind in a whirlwind as they drove in and out of famous fashion houses, searching for the perfect dress. Her engagement had followed a few days after her grandfather's birthday, and Taimoor's family had been adamant about the wedding taking place in the middle of December — which was just two days away. Thankfully, Lilah had thirty days of paid vacation saved up to use for emergencies and with Christmas arriving, more holidays piled up, giving her ample time to adjust to the happenings in her life and prepare for the big move.

All her dresses with their heavy trains and elaborate work, on the expensive fabric had been her own preference. At the time of selection, excitement buzzed through her being as she sifted hanger after hanger. Her fingers grazed the work, loose strings and beads pricking her, making them a simple no go. Lilah and her mother had visited almost every designer, searching for attire that had minimum seams and cloth that would lay softly against her tanned skin. In her excitement though, she just realized that the heavy orange, parrot green and pink dress that she selected for the henna was itchy.

The dress comprised of a fitted blouse with a sweetheart neckline, heavily covered in sequins and zardosi. Attached to the top half was a loose flowing chiffon fabric, rust lace with a metallic finish arranged on it in neat, straight lines. The color of the chiffon itself a light green that cut under her navel, showing off the lehnga. It too was of the same mint — almost pistachio green, covered in pink and orange threads and a thick lace that ran through the borders, tying the look together. She scratched the skin of her tender underarms, the loose tilla digging into it.

Lilah had to restrain herself from crying as the make up artist swiped a deep orange almost red lipstick on to her lips. The cheekbones already covered in her favorite coral blush and champagne highlight. The faux lashes that had already been snipped to a length as small as possible, weighed her eyelids down and she wished she could rip them off. Her scalp already aching as the bun covered in flowers began to feel heavier, tugging at her hair. She gripped her dress tight, ignoring the way it pinched her palms, hoping that one of her parents or brothers would walk in at any moment.