Twice Shy

16 Twice Shy

I HAD JUST noticed the absence of the platinum band on my finger leaves a thin halo of light, the kind you'd see behind a lunar eclipse. I had not realised it had been so long since I've had this on that it would leave a mark, but when I look at the soap and then my flushed finger, these would definitely beg to differ.

A breath leaves from me without realising, turning to fog in this cold winter. This should've felt good- freeing. Instead, I feel like I've been laid out bare and the absence of this metal makes me void.

"Ilyana, are you in there?" Ilyaz's yells from outside, jostling me from my thoughts, and I hurriedly put the ring back on.

"Baas thora waqt aur!" I call back, before giving my outfit a quick glance in the mirror before I walk across the corridor and stopping to put my heels on.

It was the day for our pre-reception photoshoot
that his mother desperately needs to add to her album titled llyaz's Wedding the next edition beins Ilvaz's child as she's already reminded me countless times. I'm confirmed this lehenga weighed more than I did. It was a slim silhouette of silver fabric covered in heavy embroideries, the sleeves fell over my shoulders while the back dipped almost frighteningly low, which I was planning to cover up on the actual event.

I had to admit it to myself, the work was breathtaking.

"Yaar, itna saaj ne ki kya zaroorat hain? Waisehi kaafi der hochuki hain, upaarse bahar kitna thaand hain," I felt like taking the ring off again.

This was, whether I liked it or not, the only time I am ever getting married. Once was enough, I should at least be allowed to relish every privilege that comes with it.

Besides, Ilyaz is thinking too highly of himself. I have no reason to look good for him, how can he be so sure I was trying to clean up to please my husband instead of spilling my own blood on a pentagram and putting hexes on him?

"Lyana," he begins again, banging against the door.
I slam the door open before his face. As a result, his fist flies towards me, stopping right before it can bruise my flesh. I'm almost confident I'll die by my husband's hands someday, or he will by mine. We'll be each other's culprit till homicide do us apart. Our happily ever after begins with the door slammed against his face, a stiletto aimed towards him, barely an inch away from puncturing the eye, in defense of his fist against my cheek. I can't help but smile at the ominous thought; Till death do us part.

llyaz looks back at me with a gaze I thought I'd almost forgotten, how it's barely there anymore. He stands completely still, despite this proximity. I take in his appearance from a nostalgic view, especially the way his eyes take me in. The way in which within a second, the line of sight of two converged to become one, narrowing into slits and roaming over my flesh, before finally meeting mine. Meanwhile, the one presiding underneath my own flesh, the organ I had thought had almost rusted, my heart, had gone haywire. It beat arrhythmically frantic- all simply to stand before him in this nuptial fabric just as I'd imagined only less than a year ago; alas, all but a fool's imagination we had both conjured of in fleeting rosy memories, now abandoned with time.

I become the one to break the silence first, clearing my throat quietly. "I should put these on," I manage to get out, shivering once I step away from him and the winter wind finally takes effect.

As I bend down to tie my heel's laces, a warm fabric pulls over my back, covering my bare skin. Ilyaz bends down before I can respond, his hand moving towards my feet. My hand moves to his shoulder for support, while he places my feet on his knee to tie the laces of the heel, lifting the lehenga further up my knee. Every hair on my skin stands the moment his fingers press over my skin, and I grow freakishly alert of my own presence. He rises after a while, my hand still placed on his shoulder.