A/N: Make sure to read 40a first!
Omar
Nestled in the midst of flourishing greenery, the Rukhsati/Reception venue at the Botanical Gardens was a picturesque haven for celebration. Canopies of resplendent flowers, each a vivid brushstroke in nature's palette, adorned the landscape like a living tapestry. The leaves overhead swayed in a graceful dance, stirred by a gentle summer breeze. The setting sun, its warm rays casting a golden glow, transformed the outdoor space into an idyllic haven for a celebration of Madi and mine's love.
Love, that I prayed was formidable enough to get us through every nightmare.
The tranquility of the surroundings was subtly disrupted by visible markers of an ongoing pandemic. Hand sanitizers strategically placed on tables, chairs meticulously set at a minimum distance of 6 feet, and a box of masks awaiting at the entrance—all served as tangible reminders of at least one challenging nightmare our love had endured and overcome.
Sehr and her husband, Aslam bhai, accompanied by a few of his relatives from Chicago, had reached the venue just minutes before Salman and I did. Madi's parents, along with Maliha and Hasan, graciously extended a regal welcome to our small group. Despite the need to maintain an admittedly awkward physical distance, the authentic warmth woven into their words and gestures resounded unmistakably.
A relief for me, considering the tormenting scenarios that had played out in my mind if Madi's parents discovered the note from my mother. Instead, confusion marred my response to Fariha Aunty when she told me to thank Ami for the set she had sent for Madiha.
"You saw it? I am so sorry," I replied quickly, hoping to stem the rightful anger I fully expected to follow. But it never came.
"Why sorry, beta? It was so beautiful, MashaAllah. Tumhare parents ka waqai hi bohat bara dil hai." (Your parents really do have a big heart)
Bara dil? What was she talking about, I wondered. My mother, especially, had anything but a big heart. Yet, Ahmed uncle seemed to be in the same delusion as his wife when he came to join us.
"Bilkul begum. Humari beti ki bohat achi kismet hai ke tum jaisa shohar mila hai uss ko." (Absolutely wife. Our daughter's fate is so great, that's why she got a husband like you)
Mujhe jaisa shohar? The kind of husband whose mother insulted her just three days after the Nikah? I would have asked to clarify, even begged them to trust me with their daughter if they had shown any sign of knowledge about the awful note, but there were none.
There were only calls of MashaAllah and Alhamdulillah when the two suddenly looked right past me, forcing me to turn around as well.
That's when I saw her.
Surrounded by delicate blooms, she gracefully traversed the flower-strewn aisle, her sister and brother following at a slight distance. The birds overhead joined in a sweet melody, while the wind tenderly rustled the leaves in perfect harmony—a nature's symphony, meticulously orchestrated for this singular moment in time.
Yet, the beauty of the Botanical Gardens paled in comparison to the radiant glow on Madi's face. It couldn't rival the crimson smile gracing her lips that I still tasted on my own, or the gleam in her deep brown eyes, locking onto mine with unwavering intensity captivating every facet of my soul. Nor could it outshine the elegance of the dark blue lehnga she wore, adorned with intricate sequins and silver embroidery, a perfect complement to the diamond and crystal necklace gracefully adorning her slender neck.
She was a vision and I was a goner. So alluring it rendered me completely entranced, a spell woven by her sheer presence.
"I think, I need a beta-blocker," I heard myself say.
YOU ARE READING
Mending Broken Hearts
Romance#2 in the desi medical romance series He couldn't get over his ex-fiancé who had unceremoniously broken off their engagement just five days before their wedding. She was engaged to a man who did not respect her or her work. Neither were looking for...
