Yours, Eternally

Her Decision

© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

Tara

I was very unhappily helping Mama cook dinner, muttering complaints throughout. I'm deeply ashamed to admit that I'm a very lazy person and I avoid housework like vampires avoid the sun.

"It stinks." I muttered as I added the ginger and garlic paste into the pan. Hot oil splattered, making a sizzling sound and I backed away.

"Tara, grow up, beta." Mama sighed, looking absolutely exhausted.

It was almost Halloween, which meant that Mama had a busy time at the bakery, making Halloween-themed cupcakes and goodies that kids loved so much at this time of the year. She had overworked herself today, and she had been complaining about her feet hurting. 

"Mama, sit down. Zoha or Misha can help me." 

"Zoha is working on a lesson plan for tomorrow, and Misha has a class test coming up." She brushed her hair off her forehead as she made roti.

"Mama, I'll do it. Go and rest." I told her, gently. "Seriously." 

She looked at me, as if she didn't expect me to manage the kitchen without creating a national disaster, before sighing. "Thank you, sweetheart." She washed her hands and walked out of the kitchen, but I knew she wasn't going to sit and relax. She was probably going to start tidying up the living room. I just knew it.

I covered the pan to let the dish cook, and then continued making roti. Unfortunately I burnt one, while two broke off as I held them over the flame. During all this I got dough in my hair. Ya Allah! I really am a national disaster.

It took me a long time to cook everything and clean up the kitchen after that. I was just washing up when I heard the hoover running inside. "Mama!" I rushed out and saw her hoovering the rug in the living room. We had laminated floors, but there was a large Persian rug in the living room, something that Mama adored. "Can you ever take a break, woman?" 

The landline started ringing. Yes, we still had a landline because Mama and Papa like it. It made the nostalgic or something. 

"Go answer that." I told her, taking the hoover from her. I know I said that I was lazy, but not at the cost of seeing my parents suffer due to it. 

Mama answered the phone, sitting down on the sofa beside it. "Hello? Oh! Walaikum Assalam, Arzoo Bhabi..." She waved a hand at me to stop hoovering, and I flopped down on the sofa, grabbing a bridal magazine from the coffee table, something that Zoha was obsessed with these days. I was bored as I flicked through the magazine, until my eyes caught something beautiful.

"That dress..." I muttered under my breath, my eyes widening. 

It was a beautiful golden lehenga with a heavily embroidered maxi. The dupatta was net with a stunning golden border and silver beads dotted over it. I traced my fingers over the outfit, awed. I would get married just to wear this dress. 

"We haven't thought about it yet, Bhabi." Mama said. I saw her glance towards me from the corner of my eye. "Our Zoha's wedding is in February, In Sha Allah, and Tara's still in her final year of university.

I frowned at those words, looking up at her.

"I will discuss this with Tara and my husband, and I will let you know. Allah Hafiz." Mama hung up after a long discussion.

"What was that about?" I asked, even though I totally suspected it.

"They're asking for your hand in marriage to Zain." She informed me.