When The Sun Sets

One

Bismillah

Noor ul ain throws her head back and laughs, her curls bouncing with the movement. The lights strung in the backyard catch in her eyes as the flurry of pre-wedding festivities takes place around her.

"Noor ul ain!" her cousin chides, playfully smacking Noor's arm with one hand as she grasps a henna cone in the other. "Stop moving, please!"

"I'm"—Noor hiccups in between giggles—"sorry, Soraya." She covers her mouth with one hand in an attempt to stop her hysterical giggles.

Soraya shakes her head, pausing her henna design and watching Noor with an amused expression on her face. "It wasn't even that funny, Noor."

Noor warbles incomprehensible words in between her laughter, to which Soraya replies by shaking her head and folding her arms. "Miss Noor ul ain, sister of the bride, aap ka aaj mehndi lagane ka iraada hai ya nahi?"

Noor inhales deeply and tries to catch her breath. "Okay, okay," she says, eyes sparkling with mirth as lights twinkle around them. "I'll stay still, I promise."

Soraya resumes applying henna to Noor's hands while the latter presses her lips together to contain her laughter.

A few feet away stand two guys, one engrossed in his phone and the other holding a glass of soda, eyes narrowed and jaw twitching at Noor.

One of his eyebrows is naturally arched a fraction higher than the other, giving him a look of perpetual surprise. As he watches Noor ul ain with a murderous glare, his friend locks his phone screen and turns to him, raising his brows.

"What's your problem now, Zunair?"

"I have only one problem, Ayaan."

Ayaan sighs. "Kya bigaara hai us bichaari ne tumhara?"

Zunair's head snaps towards Ayaan. "Bichaari? Did you hear the way she laughs? It grates against my ears. And she's always laughing."

Ayaan playfully punches his friend's shoulder. "Leave her alone, man. It's her sister's wedding."

Zunair cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Ayaan. "You and your tendency to defend Noor ul ain is starting to become suspicious."

"And you and your cynical, skeptical thought process is becoming exhausting." Ayaan adjusts the collar of his kurta and smiles over enthusiastically. "Now, if you've fulfilled your daily 'I-hate-Noor-ul-ain' quota, let me remind you that Beenish auntie asked us to set up the chairs."

Zunair groans, setting his glass of soda aside and adjusting his black kurta. "I hate weddings."

"I know. You hate anything that remotely brings anyone joy. Now come on."

As Ayaan leads a grumbling Zunair towards the patio, Noor ul ain bounces up from her seat as she admires her henna. "Thank you so much, Soraya! This is beautiful! Let me show Mama."