With Love

Chapter 2: oh, burdensome heart

Sometimes Israh wished she had another sister, or that at least her best friend was allowed to come over anytime she wanted, because Israh really needed someone.

Freaking out was an understatement. Israh was breaking down, unable to breathe, to think or to speak. Her palms were sweaty, an acute headache beginning to form on one side of her head, and it was unbearable.

They were coming over. Aunty Ruqayya, Uncle Ahmed and...him. Oh God! Israh was not ready. She wasn't ready to commit like that, to bear the weight of more relationships, of having to please more people than she already was. She already felt next to non-existent, an engagement or a marriage or a promise even, would erase her completely.

And would he even like her? She had nothing to offer. She wasn't smart or exciting or funny or pretty or anything much at all. She couldn't rely on any part of her personality, couldn't even act a little bit more interesting. He was going to see her and talk to her and realise in the very first minute that she was empty.

And maybe that was good. Maybe Israh wanted to be rejected. Maybe she didn't want him to like her, to say yes to anything, to marry her. Maybe she didn't want to marry at all, so in that case...her boring personality would really help.

But the embarrassment. The complete and utter humiliation upon realising that she was nothing, and that too by someone else's disappointed gaze...she wouldn't be able to bear it. If he looked at her disappointedly- like Israh was worse than even the lowest expectations he carried- she'd die inside. His judgement would be her last straw.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Even her body, the only thing she had left to base her hopes on, did not look like that of a woman's, a wife's. Her eyes were droopy, her nose a little too big, her laugh lines too emphasised, hair that was always unruly, allergies all over her skin, acne scars on her back, dark hair on her arms, breasts that'd stopped developing past 16, thighs that touched...there was so much wrong with her!

Frustrated, she walked away from the mirror and sat down on the bed, head in her hands. Great, now the tears were burning her eyes. Could she just be brave and stop crying all the time? It was infuriating. Israh found herself despicable. What did aunty Ruqayya even see in her, to even fathom having Israh as her potential daughter in law.

Once again, in the safety and darkness of her room, Israh pressed her hand to her mouth and muted her sobs. Like she'd done for the past decade or so. She'd learned early on not to let her parents know that she was sad or upset, or they would be, and it would just make things worse. She didn't like seeing them walking on eggshells around her. 'Don't do this or Israh will be upset.' 'Don't say that or Israh will cry.' She hated that. Parents shouldn't be so helpless against their children. They looked good giving orders and bearing giant smiles.

As she took deep breaths to calm herself down, she lectured herself quietly. "This day is inevitable. You knew it was coming so just be brave and face it. You can't spend your whole life alone. You can pretend to be someone better and one day it'll become reality. You deserve love. You love love and you want to marry. You don't want to spend your life alone. You believe in romance. You believe in being happy. You believe in having a soulmate. There's no point denying your heart's demands. You can't keep lying to yourself Israh."

Whispering tough words to herself, Israh finally got up from the bed. She washed her face several times to make the redness go away, combed her hair back into a low bun, put on her hijab. Just as she was about to grab her foundation, still struggling to breathe a little, her phone rang.

Now, Israh was so mad at her friend Tamannah. How could she not be available when Israh needed her the most? She was calling after three hours!

She took in a deep breath and attended the video call, leaning the phone against her jewellery box on her dresser. Tamanna greeted her sheepishly, with her dimples and naturally rosey cheeks and beautiful, shiny, long hair that Israh was so envious of.

"Seriously?"

"I'm sorry. I had to go get groceries with my mum, but I'm here now."

"You're here after I already had a near-mental breakdown! So, thanks for that."

"Hey, Israh!" Tamanna paused, waiting for Israh to relax and focus back on her.

Israh messed with her hijab restlessly, before finally sighing. Her shoulders sagged and she knelt down on the carpet, facing her hands in her lap.

"It's going to be fine, babe. Seriously. Don't you remember how absolutely terrified I was when Shaan's parents came for me? I was like you too, but then they came, and it was literally so natural and easy. We both overthink way too much, and sometimes things aren't even as hard as we thought. This is going to be another one of those instances, I promise."

"What if it isn't? What if they hate me?"

"Nobody can hate you, Israh. You're literally the most loveable, most amazing person I have ever met. I'm not even being biased!"

Israh rolled her eyes, but a small smile managed to quirk her lips. She sighed again and looked up at the screen at Tamanna and how trustworthy and genuine she looked, and Israh thought, maybe she was right. Maybe it wouldn't be as hard as Israh was thinking right now. And besides, her parents assured her there was no pressure to say anything at all. So, yeah, it was all going to be okay.

Tamanna quickly started teasing her instead and Israh lost herself in light laughter and shyness. She'd seen Asad in pictures whenever aunty Ruqayya would post pictures with her family, but she still felt as if he wasn't even real. He was some far away caricature conjured up by her mind, someone who she never really thought about in any way whatsoever. He was just...there.

But unwillingly, she had this really gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach, an annoying little butterfly of excitement flapping its wings wildly inside her. How would he look like in real life? How would his voice sound? What kind of things would he say, and how would he look at her? The more she talked to Tamanna, the more she found herself thinking about him.

She wasn't certain she was up to his standards, but judging from his pictures and mom's compliments, Israh knew he was way out of her league. Tall and handsome, a chef, earning more than enough, very patient and giving...(yes, her mother gave her all the details).

Patience. She looked for that in people more than anything else. Living in a household with anger issues for so long was detrimental for one's mental health. Israh was tired. Whenever she thought about the future and her life partner, she put 'understanding and patient' at the top of her requirements list. She didn't care for the looks or for the money or for anything else, but that. She wasn't even looking for love.

If Asad could respect her and understand her, then there was no necessity for any more consideration.

Sidra came into the room and smiled. It was clear on her face that she was excited for Israh, that she really liked Asad and wanted Israh to say yes at the first instance. Maybe Israh would do it for her, just to keep seeing that beautiful smile on her face. If this alliance would make her parents happy, then there was nothing else that would make Israh happier.

"I pressed that new suit I brought from Pakistan. Wear that today, okay? And do a little bit of make up as well. Not too much though."

"I know, amma."

Sidra sighed and held her by her shoulders. "I thought I still had a lot of time with you but look at you. All grown up. Time flies by."

"Well, mama." Israh grinned and held her mother's hands. "It's not fard, is it? You don't have to send me away from you."

Chuckling, Sidra squeezed her hands. "If it was up to me, I'd keep you here forever. But this is part of life too, and a very beautiful one indeed."

Israh rolled her eyes almost and stepped away from her mother. If marriage was so beautiful, then how come she hadn't seen a single good relationship so far? All everyone wanted was kids and to hell with the rest of the relationship.

Nevertheless, she knelt back in front of the mirror and continued putting on her foundation. She applied a very soft pink eye shadow on her eyelids, mascara and a pink tinted lip balm on her lips before finally getting up from the floor and looking at herself head to toe again. If not beautiful, at least she looked more presentable than before.

She wore the white salwar kameez with pink embroidery and an equally pink dupatta. She adjusted and pinned the dupatta on her shoulder and took in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.