The 90 Between

Chapter 15: Letters

Waznah

8 years later...

"You can take the bed and I'll take the couch."

I remained silent as I watched the man in front of me quietly slip into the bathroom, not sparing me a glance. Sighing, I turned to glance at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I couldn't even recognize myself. A deep red dress adorned with gold work covered my body and my usual black hijab was replaced by one the same shade of red as my dress.

My face was caked with more makeup than I had probably put on in my entire life to the point that my facial features felt stiff.

All for a single event. My wedding day.

What the freak.

The past few weeks had been a constant routine of shopping, visiting relatives, and appointments, and now it had come to an end. But at the same time, an entirely new routine had started. One, because I was now married. Two, because I was in Lahore, Pakistan and not Toronto, Canada. I mean not permanently, but for long enough that it warranted adjusting my entire sleep schedule and buying essentials to keep in my family home.

Yet, it didn't matter that I had been here for so many weeks because my ears still rang from the constant honking of cars whenever I stepped outside. Bahria Town was a relatively quieter area compared to the areas of Lahore I was always in for shopping, but the atmosphere that arose from weddings compensated plenty for the discrepancy.

I closed my eyes briefly, mind foggy as I tried to remember the start of this day. What had I eaten for breakfast? Had I even eaten? What time did I go to the parlour to get my makeup done? Weddings were so taxing.

I opened my eyes again and dragged my gaze down to my feet. I was still wearing red heels, a stark contrast against my cream skin tone. Henna covered the expanse, trailing up to the beginning of my leg. My hands were decorated in a similar manner, nails stained red as well.

"You haven't changed yet?"

"Hm?" I blinked a few times, looking up to meet my husband's gaze. "No, sorry I got distracted," I quickly replied, tearing my eyes away from his.

His eyes. One green and one brown. Still as vivid as the last time I had seen them.

He stepped out of the doorway to the edge of the bed, peeling off his sherwani (knee length overcoat) from his broad shoulders. "You can head in now."

"Right." I nodded. Picking up my dress from the sides I carefully stepped into the bathroom. Just to step back out again only moments later. "Um, Qasim?"

"Yes?" He turned to me.

"I don't have my clothes with me. Rida api had them put somewhere when we got here."

"I'll get them for you," he responded.

Soon, steam filled the bathroom as I stripped out of my bridal dress, cold air hitting my skin. I removed my hijab and then the scrunchie holding my hair in a bun, letting my curly hair tumble down to the middle of my back. Stepping into the shower, I sighed in appreciation as the hot water sprayed onto my aching joints, releasing the hours of tension I had gained from sitting so rigidly.

I drew a smiley face on the glass shower door as moisture accumulated on its surface. But as droplets fell, it soon morphed into a frown.

This was all too strange. The man who had disappeared from my life for years had come back, but now no longer as my childhood crush, or my brother's best friend. Calling him my husband was too foreign to my lips and tongue.