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Happy chatters arose outside. Girls in pretty dresses, girls in makeup, girls smiling pretty. A girl prettiest of them all was getting married. Covered in a white heavy dress chosen by Dur-e-Fishan, adored in diamond jewelry gifted by Ansar Ali khan, heels which now hurt and bruised her pretty feet, chosen by her own mother. Laila looked pretty, so pretty that girls who saw her felt envious of her beauty. Too pretty, that her brother shook his head muttering something under his breath. Too pretty that she couldn't recognize her own self.
Laila looked epitome of beauty.
Sitting inside bridal room, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. "MashaAllah, I have done makeup on many bridals, but you look prettiest of them all."
The makeup artist didn't say it just out of formality. When she said it, a jealousy with the veil of clear truth could be seen in her eyes.
Laila looked prettiest of them all.
Too bad they didn't know about the ugly side of life she had to face alone.
"Ofcourse my daughter looks prettiest of them all." A proud mother stood on doorway. A smile on her lipstick stained lips and pearls shined on her neck under sunlight. "MashaAllah My daughter looks so pretty."
She came to her and stroked her head lovingly. But that love couldn't find its way to Laila's heart. A memory flashed in front of her eyes.
A mother crying beside her husband. A mother who stood silently with teary eyes when he father decided to marry her to a monster. A mother who loved her child, but not more than her husband's decisions. A mother who lost her child yet was not aware of it.
"May Allah always keep you happy."
Because you couldn't mother.
Laila stood silently. She didn't speak when she was taken into her mother's loving arms. Not when the makeup artist slipped out of room silently. Not when Dur-e-Fishan sent her mother away saying Baba is calling.
Not when Dur-e-Fishan stood in front of her smiling gently.
"I always told you, you are the prettiest one in tha Family Laila." Dur-e-Fishan set a red net dupatta on Laila's head already half covered with white heavy duppata. "So pretty that my husband once asked me to talk about your marriage to his brother."
Laila couldn't smile at her sister. Dur-e-Fishan was her sister yet she couldn't find her face familiar like a sister should.
Tears pooled in Dur-e-Fishan's eyes. A smile of regret and eyes full of resentment. "You must hate me right?"
She chuckled. "I was never there for you. Not when you needed someone, not-not when baba wanted to get you married to that bastard."
Hate?
"I don't hate you Dur-e-Fishan." Dur-e-Fishan looked at her shocked. "But I also don't love you."
"You were a sister, but not the sibling I wanted." Aswad showed up at door at the same moment. Whatever he was about to say got stucked on his lips as he heard Laila's words.
