Phool for You |Royal Retelling 1|

Chapter 5: Imperishable Vows

Whenever I'm anxiety-ridden, I unconsciously touch my temples, as if doing so will alleviate some of the tension. Currently, I'm rubbing them as if I am trying to summon a genie from a lamp.

Afshi swats my hand away. "You're going to ruin Pari's hard work."

"I'm sorry," I say aggravatedly. "I feel like I'm going to vomit, or keel over, or maybe both. In truth, I'm hoping for the latter."

She places her hands on my shoulders, as if warming me up before a race. "Calm down. You'll be fine. You'll be more than fine. Just lock your door tonight and sleep with one eye open."

I groan. "Please, stop reminding me. I don't even think I was this nervous for the Medical School Entry Exam!"

"Okay, MSEE was a joke, an infant could pass that exam with flying colors," Afshi says, straightening her beautiful, pastel blue, cropped choli. Where I was extremely conservative, she was just that much radical. She never donned a dupatta, whereas I would never leave the house without one covering my hair. We were opposites in every way possible.

The level of confidence Afshi oozed was one I strived to achieve. If she were in my place, she would've held her head high, and walked into the hall we were positioned in front of without a care in the world.

"Look at me." Afshi forces me to meet her eyes. "You can do this. You've survived a war, two deaths in your family, and medical school. The last one is the most impressive, in my opinion." I give her a look. "If there is anyone I know who can survive a situation like this, it's you. I've said this multiple times, but I need to make sure it is engraved in your brain to the point of it appearing in your dreams. You're going to be okay," she stresses the word and gently places her soft, slightly callused hands in mine.

"I know I come off as confident and arrogant, but I don't have half the bravery you do, and never will. I love you, and I've never been prouder of you for being this resilient. You think I'd be able to do this, but you're so wrong. You're one of a kind, Mahroosa Durrani, and you better stay that way." She pulls me into a tight hug, pressing her cheek against mine.

I hold in my tears and close my eyes tightly to shut out my surroundings. Tremors wrack my body like a flower in a windstorm and I can't seem to inhale enough oxygen. The sound of my heartbeat echoes loudly in my ears, drowning out all other noise. When I open my eyes, my vision is blurred, as if I'm looking through a distorted pair of lenses.

I can't see straight.

I can't think straight.

I can't do this.

Unfortunately, my window for escape comes to a close as Afshi pushes the grand doors open and places my hand in the crook of her elbow.

The music starts up, and that's our cue to begin our long walk down the endless gold-carpeted aisle. I look anywhere but the stage, because that's where the one-way entry gates to my doom and demise stand.

I can feel everyone's eyes on me exerting an unbearable pressure that forces all the air out of my lungs. The undivided attention is making me nauseous beyond measure.

An equal amount of tables line both sides of the aisle, each one adorned with lavish centerpieces in hues of champagne, gold, and cream. The gleaming gold cutlery, encased in cream napkins with gold embroidery, gleams like diamonds in the rough. As I gaze upward, I notice off-white wisteria vines cascading from the ceiling, adding an ethereal touch to the majestic ambience.

The excessive spending on this wedding is truly appalling. The entire island of Surajistan is drowning in poverty, while Rafay swims in luxury, expending money on unnecessary extravagances.