The Letter ✓

The cool breeze slapped across my face gently, blowing away locks of hair that had slipped out of my hijab. I inhaled the salty scent of the ocean as I tucked them back in, watching my husband trudge back to the front door from our mailbox. He held a couple of envelopes in his hand, one of them clearly marked in blue—characteristic of the DMV—and the other was plain white.

Another useless letter from some bank. I thought to myself as my husband handed me the letters.

"One of them's from Pakistan," he informed me, meeting my eyes briefly. Pakistan?

"Why would someone send a letter?" I wondered, walking back into the house behind him. Everyone who mattered had my Whatsapp number or landline.

I shut the door gently, my eyes still trained at the messily scrolled return address. 510 Divine Homes, Phase 7, Bhatta Chowk, Lahore.

I raked my brain, trying to remember who lived at that address.

"Who's it from?" My husband asked from across the room, refilling his tall mug of coffee.

"I'm not sure," I whispered, perching myself on the edge of the couch.

I ran my hands over the envelope, touching it's smooth edges before finally flipping it over and tearing it open from the side. A letter slipped out easily, a thick card in gold engraving followed after.

I read the thick card first, the shiny embossing attracting me instantly. As my eyes greedily took in the text, I felt my heart skip a beat.

Mahnoor Hussain weds Ali Raza Hasan.

"Ya Allah!" I exclaimed, jumping up in joy.

"What?" My husband hurried over, abandoning his coffee.

"My best friend, she-she's finally getting married!"

"Wait, you have a best friend named Mahnoor?"

"You don't know her," I explained, throwing myself on the couch once again, joy touching every corner of my heart. "She was- no, is my best friend since the first day of school. We were together until we graduated high school, and then I moved here."

A chuckle left my throat as I hugged the wedding invitation. I couldn't believe that someone so close and special to me was getting married.

"I have to go," I announced, already making a list of things to do so I could be at the wedding in time.

"Hold on, you haven't gone back in four years, what's so special about this friend?" Zain wondered, standing only a few feet away and observing me.

I could understand his astonishment. I was never expressive about my joys, or sorrows for that matter, and neither did I talk about my past. But this was special, Mahnoor was special.

"You won't understand," I stated, unfolding the letter that had come with the wedding invitation.

My husband didn't know much about my past, and neither did he have any interest in finding out. We had started a new life with the promise that we wouldn't delve on our pasts, whether happy or sad.

Familiar handwriting that I had criticized countless times printed the notebook paper. Colored markers and highlighters brightened the text, hearts and smiley faces littered generously on the paper.

I grinned to myself. Mahnoor was a doctor now, yet she had held on to her immature writing style.

I began to read her words, slowly losing myself in memories of the past.

Mahnoor had been my first friend, my only friend when I had started school. There had always been problems at home, problems that had made me hesitant to step outside of the house, let alone go to school for a large portion of the day. I could recall crying for the first forty minutes of school every morning, right from the moment my Baba, my foster-father dropped me at the gate till the moment we had our morning assembly in the school ground.

Mahnoor had been the one who had held my hand, comforted me and told me that she would be with me the entire day. She had her problems too, being the youngest in five siblings, mostly ignored or the butt of all jokes. But for her, school was an escape, a haven where she could hide away her pain and make others laugh.

That was the thing with Mahnoor, she thrived on making others happy.

I let out a giggle as I recalled how she made it a point to write me notes or love letters as she used to call, giving me small gifts throughout the year which she would buy around Valentine's Day. A certain red balloon came to mind, it's white 'I love you' cracking me up instantly. I still had the balloon, it was deflated and the white text was almost worn off now, yet I could vividly remember the day she had pulled me in the corner of the classroom when the teacher left to use the bathroom, shoving the balloon in my hand along with a bright red card that expressed her love for me.

Back then I had felt like she was a bit clingy, always staying near, calling me twice a day—sometimes right after school—and fighting with others to be paired up with me in assignments.

How much had she changed, I wondered.

I had definitely moved on from the grumpy and broody girl I used to be. I had never believed in expressing my feelings, hiding details of my life I didn't think others deserved to know, closing myself off and pushing away those who cared. Yet Mahnoor had broken through those walls, crashing each one as she forcefully made a place in my life.

We were like day and night. She was the sunshine, brightening everyone's day, radiating warmth regardless of who it was, and guiding others no matter how draining it was for her. I on the other hand was like the darkness of the night, cold and distant, refusing to open up or show some light.

I had asked myself countless times in the duration of our twenty year friendship the question of what she saw in me. Why had she stayed close to me for so long? Was it because we were convenient for each other, me balancing her light with my darkness? Or was it because my presence reminded her of what she didn't want to become? What had it been?

I want you to be by my side when I sign the marriage contract. I want my best friend, who has been by my side in all my milestones to be next to me when I begin my new life. You'll be there for me, won't you?

Tears rushed to my eyes as I read her request.

Her words were nothing but the truth. We had been together through it all. From growth sprouts to puberty to picking out our farewell saris to picking colleges. We had been with each other in our first driving lessons, on our school trips, we had stood by each other at every point in our journey of discovering ourselves. I had tutored her for hours when she failed her English GSCEs, she had in turn comforted and defended me when rumors had spread about me regarding something I had buried deep within my heart.

A shaky sigh left my mouth, suddenly draining me. I shook my head, dismissing all thoughts. It wasn't right to let my mind wander away from Mahnoor. She deserved my undivided attention after all that she had done for me.

I walked over to the window and glanced out at the seafront. The waves lapped across the beach in the distance, their blue glittering under the afternoon sun. I had been in the water only minutes ago, tasting its saltiness, feeling the coolness of each drop, and the unevenness of the seafloor under my feet.

Mahnoor had played a huge part in getting me here.

Images of the night I would regret my entire life poured back in. The screams that had left my mouth, the ache in my legs as I ran, the blood that had stained my clothes for days. I could see Mahnoor shoving the ticket in my hand, along with the thick envelope of cash she had been saving for years.

"Just go!" She had yelled, pushing me out of the car.

"I'm sorry," I had yelled back, tears blinding my vision.

I had tried to memorize her face at that moment, knowing deep down that perhaps that was the last time we would see each other.

"Sehrish?" My husband called out, pulling me back into the present.

"Yeah?"

"So, will you go?" He asked.

"Yes, I won't miss it for the world."