From Aliya to Hafiz

Eleven.

Aliya.

"No Auntie I really don't mind. You and Ummi can decide."

"But you're the one that's going to be wearing them right? You should at least give us your opinion."

"I mean it's not like I'll be able to wear atampha and lace there right? Just get me some loungewear and casual wear," I said, feeling drained. "And ordinary pyjamas, thank you."

"And if you're going out to some function? What would you wear then? Baggy hoodie and sweat pants?"

That's not a bad idea.

"I doubt I'll be going anywhere."

She snorted. "You'll be surprised, Aliya."

Exasperated, I said, "Look Auntie, I trust your tastes. Ummi's too, so please just buy whatever."

She went quiet on the other end of the line before sighing. "Okay. Sorry." And then the call ended.

Annoyed, I threw the phone on my bed and sprang to my feet, pacing back and forth. It's been five days already and even though there wasn't a peep from Hakimi scum Jr. and Hakimi pompous senior, auntie and mom have been running around preparing for the—Rahman helps me—wedding.

So far, they've already readied twelve boxes and are on the last one; the one for underwear and nighties. Honest to God, I didn't even know what was inside all those boxes, like what could they possibly fill up thirteen boxes with?

I knew underwear, nighties, and causals would be in there somewhere. I don't use makeup up so that was off the list. Sanitary stuff can be bought over there so that was also a strike.

Thinking about all this was making me anxious and sick. Fed up, I decided to head to the garden for a breather, before I lost my mind.

I settled down on the bench in the middle of the garden, the one overlooking the different assortment of carnations. My head was blank.

At least I thought it was.

Or it was just the countless thoughts running too fast for me to make sense of them. I didn't know.

I think there was a voice in my head repeating something over and over again. It went like 'No matter what, you have to endure it. You can't back out of this.'

What was weird was that I couldn't remember anyone telling me this. And I definitely wasn't the one who told myself this.

Feeling somewhat disillusioned, I closed my eyes and sighed. Just then, the sound of footfalls came behind me. Surprised they were back already, I asked, "You're back? That's fast."

The steps stopped and there was no reply to my question. Just when I was about to look back, someone sat beside me. From my peripheral view, I caught sight of a crisp white shirt and navy blue slacks.

Wide-eyed, I looked at him straight, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

Hafiz stared out at the carnations, not sparing me even a side glance. Before I could ask again, he turned and looked at me, eyes dark and blank.

Or at least I didn't have the mind to decipher what the look in his eyes meant. Excited that he just appeared before me and that we could maybe work something out to make this sham of a marriage go up in smoke, I gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly.

"Oh my God, you're here! Finally, I can talk to you! Listen to me, we have to—!"

"Get your dirty hand off me."

His voice came out cold and authoritative, my hand just dropped to the bench as I sat there, stunned.

Perplexed, I watched him slowly unbutton his shirt, too shocked by the frost and disgust in his voice to give him privacy. He took off the shirt and threw it away with a repulsed scowl before looking back at me.