"Y-ye a-aap k-kya..., (W-what a-are y-you..)" I abruptly shut up as I saw him giving me a hard look through the mirror. Lowering my eyes, I tried my very best to ignore the fact that a man was seeing and touching me in such an exposed state, but tha...
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I am so, so sorry for the late update! I wasn't feeling very well this week, islia thora late hogaya 👉👈🥺.
(Baraat stage^^)
Anyways, time for Baraat!💃✨
Let's dive in...
Enjoy 🌸
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Hooriya's POV:
A beautiful red, printed lehenga lay on my bed as I stepped out of the bathroom. I walked over to the dressing table and took out a hair dryer out of one of the drawers. After I had thoroughly dried my wet, raven locks, I put the hair dryer back and pulled my hair aside so I could easily do my makeup. Mansha and Madiha had practically, being the drama queens that they are, threatened me with their lives if I didn't put on an ¨acceptable¨ amount of makeup today. I sighed at their childishness and walked into the dressing room to get changed.
And as if on cue, my dreaded hair again decided to show its evil colours once again. I sighed at the utter audacity these dreadful raven locks possessed.
Why were they so hell-bent on testing my patience?
After what felt like an eternity, I finally gave up. Texting a quick ¨HELP ME!!!¨ to Mansha, I continued to somehow untangle my messy hair from the zipper. I heard a knock on the door whilst I was in the midst of at least trying to get somewhere, and mumbled a ¨come in¨. I bent over and put all my hair on my face, hoping it would separate my entangled hair from my free one, and left my nape and half my back completely bare.
¨Yaar Mansha zara yahan ao aur meri madad karo. ALLAH puche ga inn kambakhat lambay baalou ko! (Mansha come here and come help me, will you? May God perish this stubborn, good for nothing hair!)¨ My frustration was at its peak, and the fact that I still had to get ready for the wedding wasn't helping either. I grew irritated at how slow Mansha was and was just about to turn around when I felt a pair of fingers take a hold of my hair and zipper.
Rough and calloused fingers.
I abruptly turned around and came face-to-face with a blue blazer clad chest. I gulped, knowing exactly who it was. I raised my head and was met with dark, charcoal eyes. As our eyes collided though, all the troublesome memories of the previous night rushed into my brain. The shock, the nervousness, the fear, everything.
Just how much longer will this keep going on for?
Suddenly, as if I were struck by lightning, I immediately released my state of undress, again, and rushed over to the bed to grab my dupatta. Well, I almost rushed over to the bed. I felt a tug on my arm and was soon caged between a hard chest and the dressing table. Not again, I gulped. And as expected, my infamous blush soon made it's way to my face. I could literally feel Suleiman's eyes raking over my figure, darkening as they eyed my back and nape. My back was practically glued to his chest.
Why must I always end up in such embarrassing situations?!
