Today, I'm donning my finest attire, as I take on the role of bridesmaid for my dearest friend Alyna's wedding. It's not just any wedding, mind you, but a grand South Asian extravaganza. Everything is dialed up to eleven, for today marks the celebration of her henna ceremony. I find myself draped in a resplendent red saree, a garment that exudes elegance and tradition.
Surrounded by the jubilant whirlwind of preparations and the joyous aura of love, I can't help but ponder my own future. It's as if the universe conspired to nudge me towards the path of matrimony. My mother, her eyes glistening with hope, gently pushes me in the direction of holy wedlock. It's not that I'm averse to the idea; it's just that I haven't stumbled upon someone who truly comprehends, cherishes, and loves me for the person I am.
As we busily assist Alyna in her bridal transformation, she quips, "You're next, girl." I chuckle and respond, "Yeah, right, as if he even exists." Alyna, ever the optimist, counters with, "Why don't you give that trendy dating site a shot? You might just surprise yourself."
Throughout the ceremony, those words resonate in my mind like a persistent echo. Perhaps it's time to contemplate settling down instead of drifting aimlessly through life. Those peculiar men from my college days are now fading memories, and here I am, entering my second year of university. The specter of remaining single looms, a prospect I'd rather avoid.
After the revelry subsides, I return home, my thoughts consumed by the idea of seeking companionship. I decide to take the plunge and create a dating profile. The process is akin to embarking on a major project. I meticulously input my details, upload recognizable photos, and even undergo a selfie verification, as if I were purchasing property rather than seeking a potential life partner. Exhausted, I hit the proverbial "submit" button and drift into slumber.
Two days later, on Alyna's wedding day, I steal a moment to check on her upstairs. She's adorned in resplendent Indian jewelry, a breathtaking head-to-toe red gown that makes her resemble a princess from a fairy tale. To add a touch of magic, she arrives in a white horse-drawn carriage.
I inquire about her nerves, and she radiates confidence. In a selfish moment, I confide in her about my dating profile. Her reaction is swift and eager. "Show me!" she exclaims. I retrieve my phone and display it proudly. "You have a match," she remarks. Sure enough, I do. "His profile says he's 6'1, in the medical profession, of Pakistani heritage, has completed Umrah, never been married, and is devoutly practicing." I recite the details.
Alyna winks and teases, "You go, girl! Who knows, soon you might be in my place while I'm the bridesmaid." I smile and, after a deliberate pause, summon the courage to match with him. As the imam arrives to bless Alyna's union, she makes her way downstairs to her future husband, her face breaking into a radiant smile. The night concludes, and we all disperse to our respective homes.
Returning to my normal attire, I drift into sleep, promising myself to text Alyna in the morning to discuss last night's events. However, fatigue has other plans. At 3 a.m., a visit to the bathroom jolts me awake. Glancing at my phone, I see a notification from the dating site:
"Heyy beautiful,"
it reads, from Haris. My heart skips a beat, and I'm suddenly overcome with nervous excitement, deciding to address it in the morning light.
YOU ARE READING
His Past
Mystery / Thriller"What is it?" I demanded, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "I swear it's not what you're thinking. I know there were times when I felt pressured during our conversation, but..." He began, but I didn't allow him to finish. "Cut the crap! I und...
