. . .
❝Once upon a time, a girl fell in love with her husband and made the stars realise that they'd gotten her soulmate wrong.❞
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It's a daunting thing, your first love. It's new, making you unsure and doubt whether it's love or just a mere...
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• TOGETHER WITH THEIR FAMILIES Fatimah Khan and Zayaan Haidar Invite you to celebrate their marriage ON SUNDAY 2ND AUGUST 2020 At 1PM Venus Park Venue, London
Followed by an Evening Reception At Raven Park Hotel, London
R. S. V. P BY 17TH JULY 2020
May Allah Bless This Nikah
جَزَاكَ ٱللَّٰهُ •
I FLIPPED OVER THE invitation again, miffed at but also admiring its perfection.
The wedding invite was absolutely beautiful, with a colour scheme of rich gold and ivory with black hints here and there. It was printed on pearlescent paper, which gave it a little sparkle — a shimmer and soft glow on top for added elegance. It was an Amelie laser-cut design, the two parts on each side of the main part, folding into a "lace" envelope style of sorts. In short, it was absolutely stunning; a simple design with rich and fancy hints, making it exactly what I'd wanted since I knew what weddings were.
But, of course, just like every other monumental event in my life, I'd imagined that wedding with Logan, with his name decorated under mine. Now, the dream couldn't even stay a dream as it had started to burn into ashes. Despite the new plan that we'd worked out.
"Your glaring a laser into the invitation isn't going to change anything."
I turned to stare at the side-profile of my fiancé. But the only thing that stood out to me as usual was his chiseled jawline, clean-shaven and freaking perfect. It seemed that I always found myself in awkward situations with him, alone, and in a car. But this time, I was determined to make it as less-awkward as I could.
"Nope; just admiring its perfection," I responded to his comment, watching his lips tip up at my half-lie.
"Of course."
"Zayaan," I called, hesitant and hoping that he wouldn't refuse my request.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go on," he said, eyes still firmly focused on the unfamiliar roads of Istanbul. The two weeks in Iran had gone by in a flash, the myriad of faces I saw blurring together, but the luxury and opulence of everything still vivid in my head. Now, the two of us were in Turkey as per plan.
The day before, we'd been in Şanlıurfa, giving invitations to distant relatives there, and since the car travelling distance between the two cities was a little over twelve hours, we'd had to stop and stay at a hotel. Zayaan had asked for two rooms, and I didn't know whether I was disappointed I couldn't talk and find out more about him, or relieved that I'd have my privacy.
