Enwrapped

Chapter 04

Five days and two interconnecting flights later, Saboor was heading back towards home.

Home: a place she never felt as comfortable and relaxed as people around her described it to be. Instead, whenever she went back home, she had to cover up and protect herself.

She had to wear special shoes for the eggshells she would have to walk upon all times. She had to cover her head with a helmet, for all of the insults her mother gave her. A pair of goggles for the intense, killing gaze her father gave her. A steel cover for all the arrows pushed into her heart.

And yet, most of it was never enough, because, despite all the protection gear, Saboor would often get hurt...on the inside.

Leaning a last time in the backseat, she drew in a deep breath. Her mind began formulating a list for once she reached home.

Apologise to ammi and tell her you're ready to get married. Check up on Aynoor and take her out on dinner. Ask her about this proposal...and the man.

The car stopped at her doorstep, and she took her cue to pay the cab driver. Hauling her suitcase into the driveway, she cast a wary glance at the house and its surroundings, and then, pushed the bell button. Within moments, Aynoor was at the door, a smile on her face, welcoming her elder sister.

"You should have told me, aapi, I would have come to pick you up," she said, following the home comer, and dragged the suitcase for her.

"The flight got delayed five different times. How many trips would you make to the airport?"

Internally, Aynoor was relieved. Who wanted to dress up and down over and over and wait chauffeuring the entire night?

Once Aynoor was gone, Saboor undressed and walked into the shower. She washed her hair and did her skincare all over again, for the night had been long and she didn't want to be all oily and sticky. Drying her locks in front of the hazy mirror, she mentally prepared herself once again.

"Apologise to ammi, apologise," she muttered, trying to convince herself. She shuddered over and over thinking about the impending conversation.

"Just once, only once."

~

With damp hair and a weeping heart, she entered the kitchen, where her mother was, busy watching some video on YouTube while she embroidered a bedsheet. Ammi had worn her reading glasses, and her eyes were bent down and squinted in concentration.

"Assalamu alaykum," Saboor muttered, only loud enough to her mother to raise her eyes.

"Walaykum assalam," ammi replied, her gaze wary and haunting under the glasses.

"Israa auntie...had she called?" Saboor questioned.

"Yes..." Feroza trailed, knotting a stitch in the back of the sheet. She took out the thread and took out another thread in green colour. She tried threading it into the needle, but despite her glasses, failed.

"Here, thread this for me," she said, handing the thread and needle to Saboor, who was patiently waiting for the conversation to continue. She threaded the needle for her mother, knotted it at the end in caution, and handed it back to the elder woman.

"Tell Israa auntie that I'm ready for marriage," Saboor finally stated. Her mother's eyes rose, delusion clouded in them. She was wondering if her daughter was really saying what she wanted to hear.

"What did you say?" she asked. Saboor repeated the words.

Feroza poked the needle in her bedsheet and placed in on the table in front of her, and stood up. She immediately turned away from Saboor, and Saboor's heart sank in dejection. But little did she know what was to happen. In mere minutes, a plate of hot paaya soup and another plate with roti was presented to her.