Hey guys remember to check out the original author's page and other fanfictions, just click the external link :)
enjoy!
The days following the engagement party were chaotic. Father and Mr. Azad had arranged a wedding date for Zayn and I; it was merely a month away from the engagement. I was too distraught to process this information, and remained in my room until I was dragged out by Lisa, the maid I was fond of. I had dress fittings to attend to, she had told me. That was a hell of its own. I must have went through at least twenty ill-fitted dresses, before one of Mr. Azad’s highest female officials, Marie Lynn, decided on what dress I would wear. I didn’t have much of a say but, to be honest, I didn’t really care. The dress had laced-long sleeves, with white flowers and lace encompassing the length of it. Real pearl and crystal created spiral designs at the bottom of the dress. It was tightly fit, especially around the chest, and clung to my body for the rest of its length. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a chest to fill in the deep cut of the neckline, so it had to be custom-altered to include breast cups and all kinds of insanity. It was a Versace design, Lisa had informed me. That explained its ridiculous price after all the alterations.
Aside from wedding dress fittings, I had the responsibility of picking a honeymoon destination. The prospect of spending a vacation in an exotic location with Zayn made me extremely uncomfortable. I spoke with Marie Lynn, who was now somewhat of a bride of honor in this wedding and persuaded her to allow our honeymoon to be pushed back a good five months after the wedding. I used heavy rational, claiming that Zayn had a place to maintain at the Industry and it would be best if we waited before leaving the country. She couldn’t say no to that, as she was also a part of the Industry. It was sound reasoning and I even patted myself on the back when she had left the room.
The majority of wedding preparations, besides the dress fitting and honeymoon planning, were taken care of by Malik Industries. All kinds of wedding planners from various locations in the world were called in to plan one of the largest, most expensive weddings of the decade. I read in a newspaper article from the Rapport that the wedding reception of ours would be featured on three news stations, two national and one international. I also learned, through this article, that there were a number of English, American, and Indian celebrities expected in attendance, including Julia Roberts, Shahrukh Khan, and Cheryl Cole. My jaw dropped when I read Shahrukh Khan’s name; he was the biggest actor in India. That had to be a rumor.
Days turned into weeks and, before I knew it, the wedding date had arrived. It was all a dream-like state for me and, perhaps, that’s why I wasn’t very nervous. I allowed the fitters to zip up my white wedding dress, the beauticians to apply an abundant amount of makeup onto my face, and the hair dressers to cause all kinds of pain before they settled on an extravagant up-do. It wasn’t until I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror that the horror of what was happening actually sunk in. I was only twenty-one and this was it, I was getting married. Where had my life gone? I thought. I felt tears of regret brimming against my eyes, which the beauticians mistook as tears of happiness. They all told me not to cry, as it would ruin my makeup. I wasn’t going to cry, of course.
The ceremony itself was unnecessarily long. Father linked arms and walked me down the aisle, just as was expected. I saw all unfamiliar faces on the church pews, except for the face of beautiful Rebecca Bronston. I had been to a few weddings before, always watching from the church pews. I had seen the bride walk down the long, flower-petal aisle, blinking away tears of happiness as her loving father weakly attempted to hold back his own. At the end of the aisle would be the handsome groom, watching with a bright smile as his future wife came towards him. When they held hands together in front of the priest, they wouldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. Finally, when the priest would say the words, they would share a long, romantic kiss.
I realized that none of this would happen in my wedding. My father wore a stern expression which meant one thing only: business. He wouldn’t cry tears of happiness or sadness, even though I would spend the rest of my life away from him in England while he stayed in India. Zayn, at the end of the aisle, looked disgusted. He didn’t even try to hide it. He wasn’t staring at me, with love and care and admiration in his eyes. No, he was watching his own life melt away as I drew closer. The same could be said for me.
When I finally let go over my father’s arms and stood across from Zayn, he didn’t take my hands. He didn’t even look at me. The priest began speaking. He spoke all kinds of nonsense about loving the other indefinitely, until death would do us apart. It was all nonsense to our ears. When he gave Zayn permission to kiss me, I didn’t even react. Zayn merely placed both his hands on my shoulders and brushed his lips against mine. It was hardly a kiss, but I didn’t mind. I was too fixated on the fact that my father had excused himself from the ceremony moments into the priests lecture to attend to a phone call. He still wasn’t back and had missed the majority of the ceremony. The seat beside Mr. Azad was vacant. Just like my heart at that very moment.
***
This was a sad chapter :(((
Any who PLEASE vote and comment!
XX
