I Want To Know (ON HOLD)

The Landing

Yusuf slipped the ring onto my finger that very day. Mehreen aunty had brought it in hopes that I'd agree right away. His proximity felt foreign, his touch left me feeling antsy. It burned in the figurative sense.

I would come to realize in the following days that he was no longer the same Yusuf Ali. He was older, obviously. He was no longer the skinny, tall lanky boy who would be shy and reserved. He was always towering over me, but now his shoulders were broad, his muscles straining against the material of his clothing just slightly. He didn't look like a crazy body builder, but he was as previously mentioned, ripped.

He didn't look at me the same way either.

He either didn't look at me at all, which I was completely fine with, or when he did, it was with this burning gaze, as if he could see right into me. I'm also not sure if this is true, but once, when he and his mother came to my house to drop off the walima outfit, he smirked at me.

Yusuf Ali smirked at me. And it was hot.

Sure, I was pissed at him for all the yelling he did that day. But he also made me realize a lot of things. Number one, I had to get everyone to talk to him again. So I called up the gang one by one and told them the whole situation. They yelled at me for wanting to reconcile, and for marrying him, and then got quiet when I told them what he'd said to me. Mihirmah cried. Ismael hung up. And Safaa got off the phone to call him.

Number two was that he was insanely attractive and I had to watch myself around him. I still hated his guts and he made me sad. But his gaze ignited me.

"Ignited you? What are you? Some Wattpad writer?" Mihrimah was sitting on my bed, helping me with last minute self care activities before my nikkah to Yusuf tomorrow. She laughed hard, leaning back into the pillows as she wheezed like a maniac.

I glared at her. "You're not the one who has to marry their ex-best friend who got an insane glow up."

Mihrimah stilled. "I talked to him today. It was so fluid, just like old times."

I felt bad. "Did I ever make you feel like you couldn't talk to Yusuf?"

Mirhimah got up rapidly. "No. You never said or did anything, I just felt like I'd be betraying you if I did."

I was quiet. "We abandoned him. That's what he said. And I wracked my brain for a response but I couldn't find one. It's true. I gave up on him."

Mihrimah patted my back awkwardly, a solemn look overtaking her features. "We all made mistakes. But we pinned ours on him too. Don't be too hard on yourself. Everything will fall into place."

I nodded, but I felt weird. In less than 24 hours, I was to be his wife. Leaving behind all that I knew to be thrown into an intimate relationship with a man I felt I didn't even know anymore.

"Besides, I always had a feeling you two would end up together." Mihrimah teased, pushing me out of my daze.

I groaned. "Not again. Buttface."

Mihrimah made a face. "You're the buttface, moron."

I laughed, removing the sheet mask and rubbing in the excess liquid. 

"Do you feel ready for tomorrow?"

I gave her a look. "Have I ever felt ready for anything?"

Mihirmah grinned evilly. "I wish I could say yes."

I shoved her, but a smile was playing at my lips. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

///

I made a face in the mirror. "Safaa, do I look like a churail to you?" The kohl around my eyes made me look different, it was thick and brought out the brown of my eyes.

Safaa glared at me. "You look hot. Shut up! I just spent 2 hours doing your makeup, if you even let another complaint fall out of your mouth you'll have two black eyes instead."

Mihirmah wolf-whistled. "She's right. You look sexy. Usually you look like a cow. But today, can I just say 'moo-moo'"

Safaa made a disgusted face as I let out a laugh. "Please, you'd tap this cow's ass any day."

Safaa turned me towards her so that she could pin the off-white dupatta with pink zari-work on my head. I took a deep breath and actually looked at myself. The dress was pretty, a simple crinkle lengha that was peach colored with golden threadwork running through it. The top was an open-shirt, off-white kalidar, that opened at the base of the lengha on my waist. It had three quarter length sleeves and was heavily embroidered with zari-work and encrusted in jewels. The v-neck of the top was offset by the long locket and choker ensemble. The jhoomer on the side of my head matched the necklaces as well as the drop earrings. My makeup was heavy around my eyes, the kohl smeared to create a smokey look and my lips painted a soft pink. The highlighter glowed on my cheeks.

I looked like a bride.

I almost wanted to cry. This was how I had envisioned it to be. But Yusuf? As my husband? That was never the plan. Especially with all this animosity and weird tension between us. I almost felt like a sacrifice. But Mehreen aunty's devastated eyes came into view and I shuddered.

This was written for me, this was planned. I moved a strand of perfectly curled raven black hair past my shoulder. I could see Mihirmah and Safaa behind me, a grave look settled on their faces. Daneen was standing at the door.

It was time to go.

///

When I said the words "qabool hai" into the microphone three times, I sealed my fate. I couldn't exactly see much through the red veil that was thrown over my face, but a tear escaped my eye. I had just destined myself to a loveless marriage. To a person who I hadn't bothered to contact since I was 18 years old. To someone who had hurt me so bad it took me years to even say their name out loud without subjecting myself to more pain. 

I could feel my parents press a kiss on the top of my head and pat my back gently, I could feel the hugs that my friends gave me. I could hear the mubaraks and the congratulations. But nothing could compare me to when they removed the flowered wall from between me and Yusuf and he got up to walk towards me. Nothing could prepare me for when he lifted the red veil and his hazel eyes glanced into mine with earnestness deeply embedded in them. Nothing could prepare me for the tears that were pooled in the corners of the eyes I had once found comfort in. Nothing could compare for when he gently placed his hands on the sides of my face and pressed a kiss on my forehead.

I felt my breath hitch, and I knew he heard it too. He leaned back just a bit and smiled, the first one he had given me since we had seen each other again that didn't hold a bitterness or resentment. It was honest. It was innocent. 

"Thank you." He whispered.

I was the only one there who knew what he actually meant.