rah e ulfat

پانچ

D U A A H

It took some time to explain what was going on to Zayn and Zaara. They're very confused.

Even now, as I push my nath through the whole in my nose, they ask question after question and I patiently answer them all. It can't be easy, seeing your mother get married to the one and only Mr meany man.

"Are you going to wear loads of dresses like Mamu's bride?" Zaara asks as they both play with the jewellery I decided not to wear while sitting on the bed.

"No, jaan," I struggle to adjust to the heaviness of the jhumkas but decide it's easier to leave them in than to take them out again "I'm just having one event, in the masjid."

"Why?" Zaara asks again.

I struggle to answer this one. "Because mama only wants to wear one dress."

And also because I don't think I would be able to handle the stress of a full blown Walima. Walking to the stage as everyone watched. God. The thought of it made my spine straighten with discomfort.

"Boring." She murmurs sarcastically, a trait she's definitely learned from her mamu.

I chuckle, looking at both of them through the mirror's reflection. "I know. But it's only one day to dress up. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, mama!" Both siblings say together.

"Do you like Mr meany man?" Zayn asks now and I once again struggle to answer.

"He seems nice," I decide to say "no?"

"He's mean, mama," Zaara tells me seriously, shaking her head "he made Zayn cry!"

I fight the urge to wince. What a horrible mother I must sound like, marrying the man who made my son cry. I look at Zayn through the reflection of the mirror as he keeps his eyes averted from me and fiddles with one of my bangles on his arm.

I stand up, the white sharara isn't too heavy but it is heavier than the salwar kameezes I usually wear. I walk over to the bed to sit besides them and they both look up at me, waiting for me to speak.

"You know how much mama loves you?" I ask the both of them.

The twins stretch both of their arms out as much as the could possibly go, Zaara even falling onto her back onto the bed to emphasise the amount.

"Thiiss much." Zaara says, still, impossibly, trying to stretch her arms out.

"Hmm," I nod, then look at Zayn "and you know mama will only ever do what's best for you. I would never marry Mr meany man if he was really and truly mean, okay?" 

Zayn looks up at me now. "Promise?"

His voice is so nervous that it cracks. I can't help but pull him into a hug, Zaara joining in immediately.

"Big promise."

~

We pull up in the parking lot of the masjid and my hands, sweating profusely, are trembling with nerves. I inhale a long, shaky breath and look in the rear view mirror to see Ibrahim already looking at me. He nods slightly in a way of asking me if I want to do this. I nod back, assuring him.