~
Green hydrangeas: New beginnings
~

When I arrive home, exhausted from crying but strangely relieved from the moral quandaries that had been burdening me, Ihsaan is waiting for me in the dimly lit living room. He jolts at the sound of my keys and rushes towards me.

"You're still up?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes. "I texted in the family chat that I would be late—"

"She said yes!" Ihsaan says breathlessly, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me back and forth.

For a moment, I stand in the dark foyer and squint at my brother, trying to process his words. He must sense my disorientation because he shakes me again and laughs breathlessly, as if he can't believe what he's saying. "Aneela said yes!"

After the clusterhell I've been through today, I had almost forgotten where Ihsaan and my parents went. His words throw me for a loop before my eyes spark with comprehension, a bout of happiness consuming me.

My response is too delayed, however, because Ihsaan squints his brows and cocks his head to the side. He pulls me into the light and examines me. "Hayat, what the hell happened to you? You look horrible. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." My voice comes out too high, and I plaster on a wide smile. "I'm so, so happy to hear that, Ihsaan. Genuinely. You guys will make the most beautiful couple."

He knits his brows, giving me a worried look. "What's up with you? You're not teasing me or making snarky jokes." He tugs at my hand and leads me to the living room, setting me on the sofa. Folding his arms, he stands in front of me, blocking the possibility of any exit.

"I'm okay, Ihsaan," I say reassuringly, massaging my temples. "Just tired."

A spark of understanding flashes in his eyes. "Does this have something to do with Rameez?"

My chest tightens at his name. "Can we just not talk about it, please?"

Ihsaan's expression turns soft, the lamp light spreading an ethereal glow over his face. For the first time in months, his dark circles have considerably lightened and the tension in his shoulders is almost nonexistent. "Whatever it is, it's for the best, Hayat," he murmurs.

Even though his words are true and I want nothing more than to smile and be happy for him, for the hundredth time today tears prick at my eyes. I try to turn away, but Ihsaan is too quick. He leans down in front of me and ducks to look into my eyes.

"I know it's for the best and I know I did the right thing. I have no regrets. But God, if it's for the best," I whisper, chin wobbling. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Ihsaan laughs softly. "Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us of what's important." Ihsaan grasps my hands gently, and I'm too upset to be shocked by the uncharacteristic touch. "It helps us grow. It keeps us human. Years down the line you'll look back and be thankful for every experience that led you to where you are. Be brave, Hayat." He rubs a soothing circle on my knuckles. "I know you're brave."

I give him a weak, watery smile.

We sit that way for a while, brother and sister, silence and a comforting touch saying all that words might never say.

. . .

Early in the morning, I wake up for tahajjud.

I've probably prayed tahajjud just about a handful of times in my life, but the need this time is so strong that I don't even set an alarm. When I pray, I sit on the mat for a long period of time, so lost in crying and making du'aas that I'm startled when I hear the fajr adhaan.

Later that day, to distract myself by talking someone whose presence always calms me down, I decide to surprise Aneela with a visit at the hospital.

She had sent me her schedule a while ago in case I ever needed anything. I check it and see that she has a shift later in the afternoon before one of her classes. After eating a late breakfast with my parents, I kiss them both goodbye, saying that I want to congratulate Aneela in person.

Once I reach the hospital and have went through all the necessary formalities, I'm making my way towards the internal medicine unit when a sight causes me to stop short.

The hospital cafeteria is relatively empty, save for a couple at one table and a family with a squabbling baby at another.

At a third table nearby are Aneela and Mikaal, both donned in the short white lab coats. Although they sit across from one another, they maintain a respectful distance. Aneela is earnestly saying something to him, her hand movements indicating it's a serious conversation. A frown grazes Mikaal's face as he trains his eyes to the tabletop.

Normally I'm not the kind of person who would eavesdrop on a conversation like this, but the tension in the air is almost palpable and piques my curiosity.

Discreetly I make my way towards them, making sure to remain out of their sight. I quickly settle at a table nearby and turn my back to them, pretending to be on my phone. Straining my ears to listen, I hear the tail end of Aneela's sentence: "...didn't realize what happened, but do you know what you want to do moving forward?"

"I'm not...I've never..." Mikaal's voice is strained, and I shift my head slightly to hear him better. "I never realized she felt that way."

My heart jolts. Oh, God. Please tell me they are not having the conversation I think they're having.

"Can I ask you something?" Aneela says. "Do you feel anything for her?"

Oh, God. They are having that conversation. When Abeer and I weren't talking, I had ranted to Aneela about the whole Mikaal situation. She had asked me if I wanted her to get to know what his thoughts were. In my panicked and frustrated state, I had asked her if there was a way she could discreetly find out the way he felt about me, if anything.

I wish I could take the words back.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mikaal in response to Aneela's question. There are a few tense moments of silence as I hold my breath before Mikaal says, "To be honest, I don't think I've ever...I've never...I've never thought of her that way."

I think deep down, I had subconsciously been aware of this. But hearing the words feels like being dunked in ice cold water. My body trembles with a shiver, and I blink to keep the sudden tears at bay.

"But you care about her," Aneela says matter-of-factly.

Again, silence. I wish I could turn around and see the expression on his face. "I mean...yes."

I inhale a sharp breath.

"In what way?" Aneela prompts.

"She's...my late best friend's little sister. I've known her for years." Silence hangs in the air, thick and tense, as both Aneela and I wait for him to continue.

But he remains silent.

"So you feel responsible for her?"

Mikaal blows out another sigh. I risk turning my head slightly to see the expression on his face, but his head is bent towards the table, his hands wringing behind his neck.

"Mikaal, look," Aneela's voice is gentle but firm. "If you're not willing to give this responsibility a name, don't give the girl any umeed."

Sharp tears prick at my eyes. I turn away from them and swipe roughly at my face, angered by my out of control emotions.

Mikaal must have lifted his head because his voice is clearer when he asks, "Do you really think she has feelings for me?"

"I don't think, I know."

When Mikaal speaks again after a few moments, his voice is tinged with sorrow. "A couple weeks ago, I felt like things were getting...risky. We were on shaky ground, and I felt it was best to keep my distance. I respect her not just as my best friend's sister, but as a woman as well. So I told her we should keep our distance. I don't have any regrets on that front, but I really didn't mean to hurt her. She seemed to be in a very vulnerable place and it was almost as if..." He takes a deep breath. "As if she was relying on me as a source of comfort?" His sentence comes out a question. "Like a reminder of her late brother."

"And you thought that since she was already hurting, you didn't want her to get emotionally attached or cause any emotional damage to herself," Aneela says quietly.

Mikaal's silence is answer enough.

Aneela's voice is conciliatory when she speaks. "All of what you said may be true, but so are Hayat's feelings. I don't think anything she told me was insincere."

Suddenly I no longer have the strength or the desire to listen to this conversation. God, what am I doing? Things are finally going well at home, I'm going to Princeton in a little over a month, and I really don't have the energy to focus on other matters. I want to put everything else behind me and just focus on my family and myself.

I swipe at the tears that have been rapidly streaming down my face and quietly stand, making my way to the food cafeteria's exit.

"Hayat?" Aneela's voice rings out, stopping me in my tracks.

Oh, God. My heart beats rapidly against my chest as I wipe my face with my sleeve and plaster on a bright smile before turning around.

Aneela scrutinizes me with a narrowed gaze, honing in on my reddened nose and dampened eyelashes even from a couple feet away.

Mikaal's head snaps towards me before he immediately looks away, a remorseful look passing over his features.

"Salaam, guys!" I chirp, my voice dripping with false cheer. "What a surprise. I was just...passing by and...meeting a friend."

Mikaal throws me a look of disbelief, but it's only halfhearted as his eyes are still marred by guilt.

Aneela glances between the two of us, then clears her throat. "Oh, perfect!" she says cheerfully, attempting to dissolve any tension. "Wanna grab a coffee and sit for a bit? I have a few minutes."

Mikaal takes that as his cue to stand. "I'll leave you guys to it," he murmurs. "I gotta get back. Salaam." He nods at both of us before exiting the cafeteria and disappearing from view.

An ache sears throughout my chest.

"Hayat?" Aneela's voice brings me back to earth. She walks towards me and envelopes me in a breathless hug. The familiar scent of her washes over me—strawberries and peonies—and I hug her back fiercely.

"You okay?" she whispers as she pulls back, eyes tracing my blotched features.

I muster the courage to smile. "Yes."

Either she doesn't think now is an appropriate time to extend this conversation, or she senses I have no desire to dwell on the topic. Whatever it is, I'm grateful when she nods and leads me to a table.

After she buys me a coffee and settles down in front of me, I voice the real reason for my visit. "I wanted to congratulate you in person."

A pleased flush creeps up Aneela's cheeks as she beams. The sight brings a smile to my face as well, dry tears creasing on my cheeks. "Thank you, Hayat."

I ask what I've been thinking of since Ihsaan broke the news to me last night. "If you don't mind, I'm curious to know...what made you say yes?"

She settles her chin in her hands and gazes thoughtfully into the distance. "It's the qadr of Allah." Pause. "Ihsaan is a good person. A good man, a good son, a good brother. I have no reason to say no. I trust that he will be a good husband as well." Her eyes glaze with contemplation. "I felt guilty at first, felt like I was betraying Arafat. But after praying istikhara and thinking about it for a bit, I came to a decision. As much as it hurts, he's gone, Hayat." Her lips tremble slightly, but she takes a deep breath to gain her bearings. I reach forward and grasp her hand in mine. "Life...has to go on. And it isn't fair to myself or to his memory to keep turning people away."

I startle. "Keep turning people away? Have you been getting a lot of proposals?"

"A few," she murmurs humbly.

My lips lift in a smirk. "And Ihsaan is the one you said yes to."

Aneela ducks her head, but I don't miss the smile inching across her face. "Like I said, Ihsaan is a good man. And it feels as if...our destinies are connected." She locks gazes with me and squeezes my hand, eyes sparkling with an indecipherable emotion. "So yes, I choose him."

. . .

December dawns frosty and bitter cold. Snow blankets everything and holiday decorations adorn the entire town, casting a peaceful glow on the shining snow. In a little over a month, I'll be leaving for Princeton University. And since many people are on holiday breaks or leaves around mid-December, everyone sees no reason to delay Ihsaan and Aneela's nikah.

Both of them wanted to keep it small and have a larger walima when Aneela graduates med school, so we're having the nikah at our house. But as a result of being Pakistani, small still means extravagant decorations and over-the-top arrangements. My brother and his fiancée have tasked me with taking care of the floral decorations, a duty I am both overwhelmingly excited and nervous for.

When mid-December rolls around and the day of the nikah arrives, everyone is frantically running around the house and making sure all arrangements are taken care of. Papa is frantically gesturing to the caterers while Mama is drilling a list of orders to the decorators. Ihsaan's friends are getting him ready in his room while Abeer and I are tending to the floral arrangements.

"Okay," my best friend huffs. "I got this. You go do any last minute touch ups."

"Are you sure?" I say hastily.

"Yes, of course, haseena." She winks at me. "Don't worry, help is arriving."

At that moment, the doorbell rings. I rush to open it and smile at the person standing on the porch. "Salaam, Rumana."

"Wa 'Alaikum Salaam, cutie." Her eyes rove over me as she pulls me in for a hug. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," I say breathlessly. After much contemplation, I had decided to invite Rumana to the nikah, too. It was about time to accept that while Abeer is still my best friend, we have evolved into a configuration of three. It will take some time and adjustment, but I figured this is a good time as any to mend any fissures in our relationship.

Rumana beelines to a struggling Abeer as she wounds a fallen floral garland around the staircase. "Go, dulhe ki behen," Rumana says. "We got this."

I nod gratefully at them as I head upstairs to make sure I look okay. As per the floral arrangements, the color scheme of the nikah is green and white. All my family members are wearing green, while all of Aneela's family members are wearing white. I smooth my kameez over my gharara and adjust my dupatta to fall over my neck and chest. Abeer curled my hair and did my makeup, and I turn this way and that in the mirror to observe my appearance. After spraying yet some more hairspray and touching up my lipstick, I head back downstairs to see that everything is under control.

The guests arrive an hour later. Even though we intended to keep it small, there are still somehow fifty people in my house. However, as my eyes roam around the crowd and the twinkling lights and the decorations, a lightheartedness spreads throughout my chest.

When the rest of Abeer's family arrives, I catch Rameez's eye and tense, unsure of what reaction to anticipate. We haven't spoken since we parted ways about a month ago, and although it hurt like hell at first, the ache considerably lessened and has almost disappeared altogether. At the end of the day, I know I made the right decision. And I've honestly been too busy with Ihsaan's nikah and prepping for Princeton to focus on anything else.

But Rameez surprises me by throwing me a tentative smile and a little wave, and my shoulders relax. I smile back, nodding in greeting, and it feels as if another weight has been lifted off my chest.

When Ihsaan's friends walk him downstairs, everyone cheers and whoops. I clap so hard and grin so brightly that my hands and cheeks hurt. It takes all of my willpower to keep my gaze trained on my brother and not on a certain med student walking by his side, whom I have been religiously avoiding for the past couple of weeks.

When Aneela walks into the living room, accompanied by her mother and sister, all the women gasp and ooh and aah. She looks positively regal in a white gown, a white hijab, and an embroidered veil with Ihsaan ki dulhan written across it. I grasp her hand as she walks by and she squeezes it softly, as if I'm the one who needs reassurance.

I cry when Ihsaan and Aneela say "Yes, I do." I cry when the imam makes a collective du'aa for them. I cry when they exchange rings. I cry when both our parents place floral necklaces around their necks. I cry when Ihsaan's eyes shine with adoration as he looks at Aneela and gives her a hug. Abeer keeps chiding me that I will ruin my makeup, but she wraps a comforting arm around me and rests her head against mine all the same.

When the food is being served, Mama asks me to go around and make sure all the guests are helping themselves to dinner. I do as she asks, flitting around the living room, the family room, and towards the few brave souls who have ventured to the terrace despite the bitter cold.

As I'm heading back inside, I turn the corner into the living room and almost slam straight into Mikaal Zaman. I was so preoccupied with making sure all the guests got food that I forgot I was trying to avoid him. I panic and swiftly turn around, but his voice rings out and roots me in place.

"Hayat, can we talk? If you're not busy."

I squeeze my eyes shut, debating if I should pretend I didn't hear him. I must be lost in thought for too long, however, because he coughs and says, "Hayat, I know you heard me."

My eyes fly open and I turn around slowly, willing myself to wipe any sheepishness off my face. I plaster on a huge smile as I say, "Mikaal! Did you have something to eat?"

His lips quirk as if he knows I'm trying to throw him off my tracks. But he remains, as always, polite as he nods. "Yes, I did. Thank you for asking."

"Great!" I chirp, grabbing the ends of my dupatta and playing with the ornaments. "Please take some more food! There's plenty."

I turn to go, but once more his voice freezes me in my tracks. "Can we talk, please? I know you've been trying to avoid me, but I promise it'll just be for a few minutes." He gestures to the hallway, where we will still be visible but won't have to fear any eavesdroppers.

I laugh, and it comes out too high and too breathless. "Avoid you?" I squeak. "Nonsense. I'm just busy."

He sighs and steps into the hallway, and I'm forced to follow despite wanting to flee. Mikaal runs a hand through his locks. I hate how endearing I find the motion and immediately shift my gaze.

His next words do enough to distract me. "I know you overheard us at the hospital that day."

My body tenses, triggering my fight or flight response. If I choose fight, my chances of leaving this conversation with my dignity and self-esteem intact are probably slim to none. But if I choose flight, my chances of maintaining any dignity or self-respect are also pretty slim.

The odds are not in my favor today.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you or make you feel weird. I know this must be awkward." Mikaal averts his gaze, tugging on the sleeve of his royal blue kurta. Something about the motion thaws at my heart, and I find my eyes softening as I regard him. "I've honestly been wanting to talk about this for a while but didn't know how to approach you."

"It's okay," I murmur, looking away to quell the ache that has begun to form in my heart.

I make the mistake of locking eyes with my brother from across the living room, whose gaze darts between Mikaal and me. He frowns, then raises his brows in question. Everything okay?

I give a slight nod, and his shoulders relax. He turns back to Aneela, a softness appearing in his eyes as he listens to her speak.

Mikaal's voice jars me back to attention. "Look, I just"—he shoves a hand through his hair—"I wanted to apologize."

My brows fly. "Apologize? For what?"

He rubs a hand behind his neck. "I'm sorry that I've—I'm sorry if I've ever"—he presses his lips together, a frustrated blush creeping up his neck.

My heart thuds painfully against my chest. I take a deep breath and raise my gaze to the ceiling, blowing out a sigh. "Stop, Mikaal. You don't have to apologize for anything."

"I do—"

"No." I straighten my head, locking gazes with him as a sudden bout of surety consumes me. I don't know where I muster the courage to form my next words. "Look, I have no control over my feelings. But there's no reason for you to feel weirdly indebted to or responsible for me. You have no obligation towards me, Mikaal Zaman."

Even though it hurts, I can see the tension physically decreasing on his face. He shakes his head, the cleft reappearing between his brows. "I've made some mistakes. I—"

"Stop." I hold up a hand and inhale a sharp breath. "Yes, I have some sort of strange feelings in regards to you. Yes, they confuse me and I wasn't sure how to deal with them, which is why I spoke to Aneela. Yes, I've been restless ever since I started feeling this way. But..." My eyes take in his 5 o'clock shadow, his neatly combed hair, his crisply ironed kurta, and suddenly everything makes too much sense.

"It's okay, Mikaal," I say gently, the truth coming to me hard and fast. "We're both at very different junctures in our lives. I'm heading to college for my Bachelor's, you're going to be finishing up med school, we're both at very different points in our lives. We should focus on that."

An emotion I can't place shines in his eyes. Surprise? Pride? Whatever it is, the force of it causes me to shift my gaze and swallow.

"You don't have to feel responsible for me anymore, Mikaal," I say quietly.

Silence stretches between us as the seconds tick by. I dare to glance at him after a few moments and find him fidgeting with the sleeve of his kurta again. Finally he says, "I still want to apologize. I'm sorry if I ever...led you on or gave you any sort of expectations or umeed. That genuinely wasn't my intention and I'm truly sorry if that's the case. I do not want to hurt you. Not now, not ever."

I smile softly, a strange lightness spreading throughout my chest despite the dull ache at his words. At the realization that I'm yet again coming to the end of something. "It's okay, Mikaal. Don't burden yourself with thoughts like that. You're not responsible for how I felt or thought."

For a moment, he seems as if he wants to argue before he shakes his head. The ghost of a smile flits across his face. "I'll be making du'aa for you. For your happiness, your success, your well being."

I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and continue to smile, although it feels too forced now. "Likewise."

After a moment, Mikaal gives me a nod and turns to go.

"Wait," I call out. He angles his body towards me and furrows his brows. "There's...a flower stuck to the bottom of your kurta."

He looks down at where I'm pointing and chuckles softly, shaking his head. I ignore the ache that forms in my chest as he plucks the tiny green flower off. "Must have caught on from the decorations." Mikaal sweeps his gaze across the arrangements, pausing on my terrace garden in the distance. He looks back at the flower and murmurs, "I'm assuming you know which one this is?"

A corner of my lips turn up. "Hydrangea."

"Mm." He nods thoughtfully, twirling it around in his fingers. For some reason, as my eyes track the bright green flower, something compels me to tell him what this particular flower symbolizes.

This time when I smile, it's real.

"For new beginnings."

. . .

Assalaamu 'Alaikum,

Ahhh my heart is at peace. I love this story so much.

One more chapter and an epilogue left! If I'm feeling ambitious I might update earlier than Monday ;) but no promises.

Thanks for reading!