With Love

Chapter 8: flawed beauty

Israh had forced Tamanna to come over as her moral support for the dinner that was about to happen in a few hours. They'd already finished making the main dishes and now Amma was finishing the little things, the salad and the chutney.

In many ways, Tamanna was like Aneesa. Israh was sure that if Aneesa was still here, she'd persuade Israh to get ready like a damn bride just for the dekha dekhi alone, and this wasn't even dekha dekhi. Tamanna was the same. She managed to convince Israh to put more than just a simple surmah, handing her a foundation, a blush and a lipstick. She managed to hide Israh's blemishes while still keeping her face intact and natural-looking.

This time, Israh was finally able to excel at the looser style of hijab instead of the usual tight one that made her big face look like a potato. Despite the mind-shattering anxiety running through her bloodstream, she saw a hint of excitement as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked pretty. Fresh. Hesitant but hopeful. Israh didn't know what this hope was exactly about, but she believed in what Allah had planned for her, and she cherished the feeling for His sake, instead of tainting it with her pessimism.

A knock echoed in the house, or maybe Israh was just hyper aware. She instantly got up from the bed where her and Tamanna were sharing funny reels with each other, her heart in her mouth at the sound of his voice. She stood at the step of the stairs, just a little to the side where the guests may not be able to see her well enough. She crouched down as she sneaked a glance.

Aunty and uncle were walking ahead as abbu called them in, and Asad was behind them. He wore grey slacks with a white shirt, the top button undone, and his hair perfectly styled to give an illusion like he just woke up handsome as heck. She felt Tamanna's arms around her as she too crouched down next to Israh and looked. Asad and Israh's abbu were hugging, and just before they disappeared into the living room, Asad gazed up, startling Israh.

She tried to step back quickly, and in doing so bumped her head against Tamanna's chin. Tamanna yelped as they fell back against the wall, a loud thud resonating through the house.

"Israh beta, are you girls okay?"

Israh pushed past Tamanna and crawled back into her bedroom, before responding. "Ji abbu, everything's fine."

Tamanna followed her to the bedroom as well and stifled her laughter. Israh slapped her arm to stop but couldn't help her own chuckle. This was so reminiscent of their high school days.

"You didn't tell me he was so handsome!" Tamanna shrieked almost.

Israh slapped her arm again and fixed her hijab. "Shut up. You have a fiancé."

"Oooh, possessive abhi se hi?" (possessive, already?)

Israh rolled her eyes and turned away from her to grab her dupatta. "I'm saving your relationship, you idiot."

"Uh huh." Tamanna appeared behind her, resting her hands on Israh's shoulders and pressing the sides of their faces together. "You look so pretty! My baby's grown up so well."

"Oh my god, Tammu! Stop that." Israh laughed.

"Okay, but on a serious note," Tamanna turned her around. Her mischievous expression had faded into one of worry, "don't settle for the bare minimum. Once you guys are done talking, if your heart isn't satisfied, then don't..." Israh saw the struggle in Tamanna's gaze, the words she wasn't able to speak entirely. "Just don't make yourself miserable. You can blame everyone for everything else that you've been through...but if things don't workout now...you'll have to take full responsibility, Israh. So, don't do something you know you're gonna regret later."

Israh nodded. As she looked at Tamanna and took her hand into hers, she couldn't help but feel immense joy and gratitude that she had such a beautiful soul as a best friend. Sometimes Israh forgot just how blessed she was, and these moments humbled her, reminded her that there were so many things out there to live for.