Healing

37.

𝐻𝑒𝓇𝓈 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

I wake up the next morning to my mom obnoxiously knocking on my door.

Ramadan isn't until next month, why is she waking me up like this?

"Yes ammi, what is it," I groan.

"It's 11 o'clock why aren't you up yet," her muffled voice behind my door sounds agitated.

My body instantly shoots up. "It's already 11?" I yell. "Why didn't you wake me up for Fajr?"

"I thought you had already woken up," my mom tells me as I rushedly open the door.

I don't respond as I go to the bathroom to make wudu. I had missed Fajr and the feeling was eating me up alive.

My mom sits on my bed and observes me as I pray.

After I finish, she nonchalantly starts a conversation up again. "Our family is going to be having lunch with Omar's family today. His dad is back and he wanted to meet you before the wedding took place."

I stare at her for a few moments before her words fully registers. I was meeting his father. My soon to be father-in-law. "Why today of all days." I fold my prayer mat and put it back into its place in my drawer.

"You'll be perfectly fine my dear. Omar sent you a dress to wear." She hands me a black box with the word Balmain imprinted in gold lettering on the top.

"That's so cute," I say as I carefully untie the bow and lift the top.

"Take it out," my mother urges as she nosily peaks over my shoulder.

A slight gasp leaves my lips as I let the fabric roll down.

It was a gorgeous floral white saari. The border was a textured good.

Definitely from London, I think. But when did he even have the time to pick this out.

The blouse had balloon sleeves and the neck line was high so I wouldn't have to wear anything underneath.

It was beautiful.

What was more is that it genuinely looked like something I would pick out for myself.

The more I thought about it the sweeter it got. It was traditional in Bengali culture to wear a saari when the bride and grooms family saw each other. And he went out of his way to give me something he knew I would be comfortable in.

"There's something else inside," my mother reaches into the box and grabs a red box.

I stop as I look. Every single Desi person knew what this red box meant.

But why was he giving me gold now?

I open it and take a step back.

It's a set with a large choker necklace, jhumkas, and a tikka that matched the saari perfectly.

I take it in my hand and inspect it closely.

"You'll look beautiful in it. Tonight will be fine my child," she rubs my back in reassurance.

I nod as she takes out the saari and helps me into it.

She pins it in about a million separate places and leaves when she's done. Afterwards I pick out a satin hijab to match the dress and sit down at my vanity, reaching for my mascara.

But then my arm stops.

I look at the mascara again for a moment alongside the eyeliner that I was going to wear and then drop my hands to my lap.