The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

I stared at Zoya, and she stared back as if challenging me to decline. It sounded too perfect, seemed too flawless to have Zoya's support and I almost nodded my assent but the loose thread in my heart still coiled around in aching circles, the truth and meaning of it skirted past me and instead of a nod, I found myself shaking my head. I won't run away and leave my family in tatters of shame, to be laughed at and unable to show their faces in any event. I couldn't. I remembered sitting on the sofa in Shifa's flat and telling her about the cousin who eloped with a Hindu boy. I remembered my mother telling me all about the worsening condition of her mother, the weeping, the wailing and then the praying to keep her daughter safe wherever she was, with whomever she was and keep her happy in her new life. And at last, hoping that she returned home because only death awaited her. How could I do that to my parents? How could anyone? But then I remembered Shifa's voice claiming to do the same if left with the only choice. I did not have the courage and heart to do that and still be able to face myself in the mirror. Besides, I hadn't even seen my choices.

"What? No? Adia, this is the last chance, if you don't wish to marry Wahab then you run."

My head shook again, with more vigour than before and I stood up. The new strength powered through my veins and turned to the mirror. Trying my best to avoid glancing at the two of them. Too afraid of what I'll see.

"My makeup must be reapplied."

For the sake of my sanity, neither of them talked again and the makeup was done in an eerie silence. I kept my eyes on my lap, lifting them only when Divya applied a layer of kohl. 

I didn't know how it happened, the whole ordeal went in a dazed blur of sound and colours, but I found myself sitting on the low cushioned stool. On my side, my mother sat with other female relatives of my family. The quiet followed the commotion and I raised my eyes. Wahab sat before me, a huge smile on his face and his gaze already on me. My stomach dropped and then I heard it, the voice of the qazi, reciting the lines from his booklet and I watched as he announced the dowry, the amount of my first night's gift from Wahab, my zakat, an assurance that I would not be left with nothing to my name if Wahab ever decided to divorce me. I followed the nod of Wahab's head and when I was counting to ten and praying for it to be done, my eyes betrayed me and went past my almost-husband and landed on Shifa.

 My breath paused where it was and suddenly the large space felt too small. Her stare, I realized with a flash of shame, was harsh and unmoving as if she couldn't believe she would be seeing me there at all. Had she thought I would run away too? The heat of her disappointment and something I couldn't touch my finger on compelled me to hold it. Whatever she gave, I took, however scorching. If it was anger, she had for me, then so be it. But then her face softened and her whole face broke into a pained smile and ever so slightly, she bowed her head. Like looking at was too tough a task. My heart struggled inside the cage and my palm itched with a burning desire to reach out to her and hold her hand in mine and—

"Adia!"

My trance broke with a loud snap, my mother's hand still grasping my elbow and I looked back at Wahab. His forehead was creased, and my ears burned hot. The qazi repeated his sentences to me, this time I tried to listen, but the air was waning, and my lips parted in a silent gasp. I needed the air to breathe, but it was so difficult to inhale, there was nothing to hold onto.

"No. Please, please. The air—please."

Everything happened in a hurry that I didn't get time to fan my face and I was back in the room. To cool down the sweat. No one would reapply my makeup if I ruined it with my tears again but the need, the burning and the ache made it so hard to control the urge. I was still grasping, hoping Allah would show me mercy and just let me breathe, I was undeserving but still, hoped that He take pity on me.