Paasban

Chapter 12

Mahabat hawa ki tarah hai, aap isay daikh nahin saktay, lekin isay mehsoos ker saktay hain~

🦋🦋🦋

Zyra's POV:

It had been three long weeks since that day, since I had finally spoken up for myself. But ever since, Amma and my sisters had given me nothing but cold shoulders and silence. Even today, the day of my nikkah, the distance between us remained.

Kinza stood behind me, her fingers adjusting my dupatta with care, a bright smile plastered on her face as if trying to make up for the tension. Maria, meanwhile, was busy wrapping delicate white gajra flowers around my wrists, her excitement bubbling over. She kept throwing playful glances at Shaheen, who lounged on the sofa, completely unbothered, munching on chips and staring at her with a goofy grin.

I turned my gaze to the mirror. For a moment, the reflection caught me off guard. I looked... beautiful. More beautiful than I had ever seen myself. The soft pastels of my bridal outfit, the delicate shimmer of my dupatta, the subtle yet flawless makeup that Maria had insisted on—it all came together perfectly. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, a part of me still felt hollow. As if something was missing.

My eyes moved to the window, and I could see Abba outside, pacing around the lawn, making sure everything was in place. The decorations had transformed our small yard into a fairytale setting, with delicate floral garlands hanging everywhere and soft lights casting a golden glow over the space. It felt surreal—like something out of a dream.

The nikkah was going to take place here, in our home, with close family and friends. It should have felt perfect, but the pit in my stomach told me otherwise.

"Your Amma's still not happy, you know," Kinza whispered, interrupting my thoughts. "She’s sitting in the living room, all dressed up but fuming. Can’t even look in your direction."

I sighed, already knowing what she would say. Of course, Amma wasn’t on board. Not truly. She had been overruled—by Abba, by Shaheen, by the reality that Musa hadn’t backed down. But that didn’t mean she’d accepted it. Not by a long shot.

I looked at Kinza through the mirror, trying to find some comfort in her cheerful face. "I know," I whispered back. "I knew she wouldn’t be."

Maria, ever the optimist, leaned over and smiled brightly at me. "Forget about all of that, Zyra. Today’s your day! Everything will be perfect, trust me." She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, just wait till you see the look on Musa’s face when he sees you in this," she teased, winking.

I tried to smile, but the weight of Amma’s absence still hung over me like a dark cloud. I had hoped, in some small part of my heart, that by today she would have softened, that maybe, just maybe, she would look at me with some semblance of love. But all I got was indifference—borderline hostility.

"You really do look beautiful, you know," Shaheen piped up lazily from his spot, his tone casual as he tossed another chip in his mouth. "Musa won’t know what hit him."

I managed a soft laugh, thankful for the lightness he brought to the room. But inside, I was battling a storm of emotions—excitement, fear, hope, and sorrow, all mixed together.

Maria noticed my silence and placed her hand on my shoulder, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "She’ll come around, Zyra. Maybe not today, but eventually."