You Are Most Welcome Alpha

ll੧੭ll A Promise...

It wasn't white. The fabric was of soft cotton; the lengthened kameez to the folds of my knees, caressing my skin rather than hugging at every curve but still cupping at my small chest. As on request, the upward turnt collar was no more than an inch of the fabric neatly done with some reinforcement within, and encircling the neck with shimmering black fabric as the chunni before dipping into the shortened heart neckline. My two collar bones stuck out against the paleness but I attempted to cover it quickly.

The salwar was pale, matching with the kameez. Bands of golden laced all the hems for the kameez, the sleeves ending at my elbow as well as the front, with a piece of classic black fulkari encased between. The maroon, emerald and brown embroidered chunni, the fulkari, was similar to the classic fulkari done with the borders, cut from the same clothe and sandwiched between gold bands. The chunni was unpinned and wrapped around my head. It was somewhat of a favored preference in suits here, the traditional Punjabi artwork done into many shawls and suits. 

I glance at the veil around my head from in the mirror, touching its coarse material from where each stitch was overlapping and returned to the memory of Greysan holding me pinned to the wall the day of Vasiakhi in his house. I had worn black then too. He said I was beautiful. He actually met my eyes when talking, touched me and held me like I was a human. Touching was forbidden with the opposite gender here. Boyfriends and girlfriends did not exist for the fear of their parents and retaliation.

My face was makeup free, plain and scarred, eyebrows recently plucked. Snapchat was my best friend for these blemishes, though my friends said my face was better than most. They said my proud cheekbones were the most prominent of my features, naturally honed and defined. I wore my gold chain, gifted by my loving grandmother a few years back, despite not wanting to look at my neck, with same silver hooped jhumka adorning my ears as the day of first meeting Greysan.

We were due to go to the temple. It was a place where we hadn't been here for months now which wasn't exactly ideal. My parents could not have been more indifferent. We spoke a sister language to what was expected of us, worshiping an entire culture was harder -especially for me. They never understood how it hurt me.

I was on the driveway when I spotted the dark-haired Luciano on his driveway with a few of the Alpha's sons gathered by his door. I sucked on my breathe.

They were nothing more than troublemakers, jacks as we called them here, our versions of the stereotypical American jocks, thinking they're so full of themselves and showing it off shamelessly when they haven't worked a day in their life. Everyone knew it was their parent's money, the money they earned from countless hours of work without breaks for no one but their kids. It was a norm here to accept that all the fame and wealth the jacks had was mostly because of their association with gangs although many contradict. Just like how all gang violence is covered up here, the truth goes unheard because of how it's twisted.

On the drive I was so lost in my thought I hadn't realized Luciano was watching me until he was gone from view. I wasn't permitted to wear glasses, my parents saying it look ridiculous with a suit. They believed I was to blame for my bad vision, by reading too much when I felt alone or upset though they didn't know, and sometimes made me suffer the consequences of my choices by not allowing me to wear them.

My finger slide to the peak of my nose, above my diamond stud piercing, where Greysan had pushed the bridge of my glasses back one day not too long ago. I sigh. I thought more about him recently, his name a constant fog over my sense.