Wilted Petals

Chapter 26: Becoming One

There's a saying: history repeats itself. And in my case, I've found that to be mostly true. I ended up growing close to Manish, falling in love with him, doubting my feelings, and going through a whole mental crisis regarding my feelings. And that's just one instance. Today, history is going to be repeating itself once more. In this case, with a slight twist. 

Almost 11 years prior, I went with Manish as friends to Jen's older brother, Irfan's, wedding reception. Now, we're going to her wedding reception as a real deal couple. Thankfully, the twist in the trope was a good one and not one that made you want to punch a hole in the wall.

"I'm leaving right now, Jaya," Manish texts. For some reason, I can't help but feel so nervous. My heart is racing at a million miles a minute, and sweat is starting to moisten my palms to the point where I have to wipe it off on my anarkali. 

With nothing else to do other than hyperventilate, I open my phone camera to make sure my hair and makeup is on point. My gold shimmery cut crease is not off by even one particle of glitter, with the winged eyeliner adding to its sharpness. My cheeks are sculpted as high as they possibly can due to the contour, with the slightest tint and glow from a sweeping of blush and highlight. My lips, which are nervously pressed together, sport a light pink lacquer from one of my favorite pink lipstick. My heavy breathing accentuates the white pearl choker tightly fastened around my neck. 

I put my phone down and tuck a curly lock of hair behind my ear, as my bangles clink in the background. Somehow, the deep breaths barely ease the nervousness that's eating away in the pits of my stomach. How am I not supposed to feel nervous? I'm going to my best friend's wedding with the love of my life. I'm absolutely terrified, partially because this day is actually happening. 

But what if something happens? What if we realize that we're not meant to work out and all my rejoicing was for nothing? What if I trip, fall, break my neck, and die at the reception? I slap myself a little bit at the last one, because my clumsiness can never ever match up to those deadly standards. 

As I take deep breaths in an effort to ease my nerves, I hear my phone buzz again. "Your apartment number is 115, right?" 

I stand up to go put on my heels, while texting back, "Yep." And here comes the hardest part of the outfit. Heels. Because I have always tripped and nearly fallen on my face while wearing them. 

As I slide on my heels and try not to fall and break something, I hear someone knock on the door. A little smile curls at my lips, because I know it's Manish. I dart over to the coffee table to grab my purse and keys, and hobble in front of the mirror to make sure that everything is on point. I adjust the dupatta that is draped over my shoulders a little, and then go to answer the door. 

Before I do, I peek out the peephole to make sure it's Manish and not a serial killer. Surely it is, and without one ounce of hesitation plaguing my mind, I unlock the door and swing it open. Just like history is repeating itself once more, Manish is standing in front of me, with the biggest grin eating up his face. A maroon colored sherwani hugs his upper body like a glove. 

A black churidar on his legs matches the darkness of the top, while his grin adds the brightness needed to counteract his intense clothing. That brightness of his smile transfers to his slight gasp, as his eyes lay on me. "Oh my god," he marvels, as I giggle a little bit. His eyes dart all over me, from my necklace to the anarkali to my makeup. "Jaya, you look gorgeous. Like a queen," Manish stutters, like someone is forcing him at gunpoint to recite the Pledge of Allegiance backwards. 

As I turn around and lock my front door, I can't help but giggle to the point where I feel like I'm going to fall to the ground, holding my stomach. "Thank you, Manish. You look very handsome." Manish then snaps out of his awe filled trance, and then clears his throat. "Sorry, I was sounding like an idiot." He holds up his arm. "Shall we?" With another smile, I gladly take his arm, and he leads me towards his car so that we can start our night of fun and dancing. "Don't worry about your stuttering. I find it adorable," I add, as we inch towards his car at a pace that isn't fast enough for me to trip and die. Manish shoots me a glance with another smile embedded in his iris, before going, "Not as adorable as you."