Syra Amir loves travelling the world. So it helps that she works as a photojournalist for a popular travel magazine.
So when she accidentally selects the wrong destination when booking a flight, she decides to go with the flow and travel to this pla...
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Syra
I wore my cream coloured gharara with light golden embroidery over it, and a light blue sheer dupatta. I hated this overdressing, but my mother thought it was mandatory for the Muklawa as well, when Musa came to pick me up from my parents' place the night after the Valima.
But as I had been brushing my hair, Musa's text had made me pause.
<Musa: We're going to Khwabpur tomorrow. Lubna Aunty and Dilawar Uncle have invited us for a dawat.>
I had immediately smiled as I had read that. Khwabpur had won my heart and now the thought of going back made me truly happy.
There was a knock on my room door and I walked over to open it.
"Musa Bhai is here." Ifra grinned widely at me.
What is he doing messaging me when he's right downstairs? I was amused. "Coming."
"You look beautiful, Ma Sha Allah."
I rolled my eyes. "I feel like a Christmas tree."
She burst out laughing. Reaching out, she draped the dupatta over my head. "Now you look like a sharmili dulhan."
*Blushing bride.
"Sharmili? Do you not know me?"
She just giggled. "Let's go!" Grabbing me by the wrist, she rushed me towards the stairs.
"You know, I made a friend called Jannah. You met her at the wedding. You'll get along very well with you, because you're both equally annoying."
She looked at me over her shoulder. "She's cool, so I'll take that as a compliment."
Fortunately, I was wearing golden khusay, so there was no risk of me falling on the stairs and dying.
The moment we reached the bottom of the stairs, Ifra turned to face me. "Okay, deep breaths."
I raised both eyebrows at her. "Ifra, you are more nervous than I am."
"Or...and I believe this is true...you are nervous, and you're just covering it very well, like always."
Again, I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."
"It's a childhood habit of yours, Sy. Every time you have no argument, you say 'whatever'."
Being only two youngers younger than me, being my Khalla's daughter, and with us basically grown up together, Ifra was no less than a sister to me. She knew me truly well. And again, she wasn't wrong in her knowledge of me.
