"Have something Zaara, you've barely had anything," the matriarch of the family passed her a smile.

"It's fine, I'm not really that hungry anyways." She shrugged, nibbling on a piece of naan.

"Pehli dafa ai ho, bhookay pet kaisay jaanay dun?" Shubana clicked her tongue.
[You have come for the first time, how can I let you go empty stomach?]

Zaara awkwardly looked around the rest of the table. She had noticed the tension that was between the elder woman and her daughter-in-law, not once had she doted over her grandson, Dawaar, instead all her energies were being spent on her. The attention made her feel out of place simply put. She was not used to being the centre of attention, let alone at a stranger's home. She sighed, glaring at the sage green ceramic plates, the golden grains of rice, pulao, her favorite, had never appeared so unappealing.

The thick silver spoon moved back and forth in the the well of rice her uncle had served her — the wide eyed stares had not gone unnoticed. They were a peculiar duo for most people, uncle and niece, who happened to be the best of friends? It was a rare sight, and they were often stared at as if they were extraterrestrial beings. She furrowed her brows, gently pushing the star anise to one side, scooping the still lukewarm bite into her mouth. Her nervousness had rendered her mouth to have no taste, the ice cold waters doing nothing to help her.

"Zaraa do you want something else?" Kaleem whispered under his breath.

"Can we go home?"

"Thori deir mein chaltay hain".
[We'll go in a bit.]

Zaara nodded her head, pushing the curled lock of hair behind her ear. A heated gaze bore into her shoulders, eerily cold eyes stared at her, the mans fingers rolling his fork with smoothness. She clenched her jaw, the flutters inside her heart, the quivering in her lower belly annoyed her to beyond any extent. Her breath was shaky, lips coated in a maroon lipstick stained the rim of her glass, the icy waters not doing much to subside the fire inside her veins.

"Zaara what are you doing these days?"

There it was, the question everyone wanted to ask. It was the couple's daughter, Mariam that had finally had the guts to voice it. Her shrill voice breaking the bubble of peace she had built around herself.

"I'm studying Finance."

Her reply was curt, as she looked at Mariam for a few seconds, confidence dripping from her words. Her eyes flickered to the man with a grey cloud over his head, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she caught his eye.

"Really? I wanted to study that in university too!" Tayab said.

"Why didn't you?" Zaara spoke.

She was stunned, why had the man not pursued what he had passion in?

"He'll be taking over as CEO of our company, it's best if he studies something more suited to the position". Amir Jahangir, was not one to let a young woman undermine his decisions.

"Of course. You're probably going to get a hefty inheritance, marry a rich man so you don't even need to make a practical choice over what suits what". Tayab added.

"That's some really nice mentality right there," Zaara spoke, "whatever I do is not something that should bug you. Finance is an amazing major and in fact, is projected to have one of the highest growth rates in the future, but best of luck!"

"Acha acha choro in sab baaton ko, yeh batao abhi tak mangni huwi hai keh nahi?" Rumana said.
[Okay leave this topic, tell me have you gotten engaged yet or not?]

"I have not, my father is in no hurry to marry me off".

"Bateein hai sirf yeh".
[These are all claims only.]

"Yeh tou humaray ghar ki ronaq hai, rishtay tou aatay hain magar Khubaib sab ko mana kar deta hai. Usay kisi shehzaday ka inteezar hai apni Zaara keh liye".
[She is the light of our house, proposals come but Khubaib refuses them. He is waiting for a prince for his Zaara.]

Kaleem's gaze ran towards Dawaar. He had noticed the way the man was staring at his niece, it reminded him of the way he had once started at a woman. His love was unrequited bur Dawaar's wasn't, if Zaara's impatience, and they way she stared at him time and again was a indicator of anything it was probably that. He smiled slyly at Mehmood, a man he knew like the back of his own hand. There was a silence agreement. Secret smiles were shared and as they left, private whispers were uttered inside one another's ears, and the next thing they knew, Dawaar's hand was proposed for Zaara.

It was three days after Eid that Mehmood along with his wife and son had come over to the Khawar house for tea. They had stated their intentions, which alarmed the eldest daughter-in-law of the house. She had imagined Zaara as her bahu, not someone else's. All she could hope for now was that Zaara would reject Dawaar and chose her own son. For he too was madly in love with the woman.

Zaara sat by her father and grandmother, blushing as if she were already his bride. Her hands clasped around her father's wrist in a tight grip, with sneaky glances she looked at Dawaar. His frame would tower over hers no doubt, but there was a gentleness in him she could not ignore. They way he talked to his mother and father, how his head was bowed in respect in front of their elders, the cold hearted gaze he threw in the direction of her cousins — had him winning respect inside her heart faster than he could realize.

"Mehmood this isn't an easy decision for me to make. Zaara is my daughter,  how can I just agree to it after knowing the kind of family you come from — no offense of course."

"I understand Khubaib, but I assure you we'll keep Zaara happy. Dawaar will keep her happy," Mehmood took a deep breath.

"Khubaib bhai, as a father you have every right to be concerned. I would be too if I had a daughter like Zaara. I've been married to Mehmood for almost thirty years. Whatever his family is, he isn't like them, and neither is Dawaar."

"Beta hum ap ki baat samajh rahay hain. Asal mein Zaara aikloti hai, laad sai pali hai hum nahi chahte keh koi aisay jaga uska rishta ho jaye jahan uskay dil ko toda jaye." Saleema tried to explain.
[Child I understand what you're saying. The thing is Zaara is an only child, she has been raised with love we don't want to marry her in a family where her heart might be broken.]

"Can I— can I say something?" Dawaar spoke.

His crisp voice managed to cut the thicket of tension brimming between the two families. He looked from his parents to the family of Zaara, his hands fisted tight. His nail bed turned white with the force he put on them. Heads nodded in his direction, his mouth opening and for the first few seconds he was stunned— speechless almost.

"I moved my parents out of our family home. We have no link to them save for familial ties. If anyone from them ever wrongs Zaara, I'll deal with them myself. You need to take a leap of faith, trust me".

"Words are easy, actions not so much". Kaleem spoke.

"This is Zaara's decision. Give her time, whatever she says, is what will happen!" Saheefa spoke up after a few seconds of deep contemplation.

📜

Thin baby breath wreaths wrapped the bannister entirely, weaving in and out of the white chiffon cloth that had been tied around it. Fairy lights twirled with majestic grace from the roof of the home, illuminating the street in the dead of the night, as if the moon had itself come down on earth. Trees that had been growing in the soil of the Khawar family home were lit up with shades of oranges and green, inviting the guests that had flown in from cities far and wide. The family that had long since spread across the nation and borders was in one place, the extended families and cousins all thronged to the bride's side, as the groom and his family arrived.

The beating of loud drums, the shouts and screams of excitement were euphoric. The bride's father and uncles greeted the groom, placing the flower necklaces on his neck, patting his back in affection. A large part of the open veranda had been covered in a white sheet, gold cushions thrown around with a flower curtain hanging in the centre. Gentle music played and took over the loud sounds of the dhol. The grooms part that had entered dancing and cheering, dissolved into their own-selves, shouting in excitement over the cold groom.

Zaara looked out from her large window, the one that opened into the veranda. Her henna covered hands, that were redder than the cherrywood of her bedroom cupboards sat on her skin with such grace she could not help but let out sighs of awe. The half sleeved blouse of her lehnga, had a round neckline, covered in floral gotta, the cotton net was a contrast from a usual bride's raw silk or net dresses however, Zaara had fallen in love with the white dress at first sight.

The lehnga started a few inches below her blouse, the hemline extended beyond her sight. Sequins were stitched all along the train, with a pink almost red thread and lace running between the rust shaded gota. Her hair were curled and then tied into a low bun, a few strands left to frame her face. The pastel blue veil with silver mirror work along the edges rested on her head, a thin gold necklace with rubies covered her neck. She looked every inch a regal bride and nothing more.

The excitement of getting married had her rolling over the balls of her feet in joy. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pinching the goosebump covered skin in impatience. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, reliving the events of the past few days. Her aunts and uncles had tried their best to get her to reject Dawaar Mehmood. To them Zaraa being married off was not just all about her happiness, she was a walking bag of money, and she had gauged that by their reactions.

Haya her aunt had cornered her not once but many times leading up to the wedding. Convincing her to reject the man who was notorious for having a cold attitude, a rude outlook towards people. She weighed the pros and cons in front of her, for her marriage to Aurangzeb. Zaara had almost been convinced, but the letter that had come attached to her wedding dress written in his cursive hand writing won her over with ease.

Khubaib wrapped his arm around her hand, squeezing it in reassurance as they walked out of the bedroom towards her groom.

"You still have a chance do you want to abandon this wedding Zaara?"

"Abu! Don't add rebellious ideas inside my head!" She squealed.

"Whatever you want, will happen."

"I want to marry Dawaar, please."

Khubaib nodded his head, finally relieved. He helped her to the cushions, arranging her dress around her before taking seat by her side. The other one occupied by Kaleem, behind them her grandparents stood. As the marriage proceedings began, every eye filled up with tears, tears of joy. Zaara's hand shook furiously as she signed the papers. A tear fell from one of her curled lashes, acting as a dot above the i in her father's name.

The curtains were removed. The boxes of sweets were exchanged, hugs and smiles were gifted around as the bride and groom sat down on the stage, hand in hand. Her sweaty one inside his cold ones. She noticed his palm was larger than hers, making hers look like a child's hand. Dawaar passed a small smile to her, before his eyes fixed themselves on the crowd, warmth inside his body disappearing and replaced by the infamous steely gaze inside his eyes.

Finally seated inside their car, on their way back home did Zaara finally strike up conversation with him. Sliding her hand inside his, she placed her lips on the back of his hand. Grinning as she saw him stare at her with a peculiar gaze, as if she was completely crazy.

"Dawaar?"

"Zaara?"

"Mujhe boriyat sai maar nahi dena, okay?"
[Don't kill me of boredom okay?]

"What? Is this what a bride says to her husband the first time she sees him?" He said.

"I mean — meri tou pehli shaadi hai, kuch keh nahi sakti. Agli baar keh liye pata chal gaya keh yeh nahi kehna," Zaara giggled.
[This is my first wedding so I can't say. Now I know for the next time that I should not say this.]

"Next? Yeh hum dono ki pehli aur akhri hai, samjhi?"
[Next? This is our first and last one, understood?]

Zaara nodded her head, pursing her lips. Unlike she had imagined as a child, there were no tears shed at her wedding. Instead, she was beyond excited at the prospect of getting married to a man like Dawaar. Someone respected, independent and simply amazing. She had lost her heart to his side profile, her fingers running on his jaw out of their own accord, a deep red shade spread across her neck as he glared at her. It was going to be a long night.