"Shut up, stupid! Do you want to pay that huge amount of fine?"
"As if they're standing outside our door with their ears pressed to it."
"They could be."
"Are you for real? What kind of psychos do that? People can be doing God knows what in their ro...
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Ifrah felt like fainting.
Her surroundings were closing in on her and the fact that she was surrounded by so many people— ladies to be exact, along with the imam, was worsening her already jumbled up state.
She didn't want to be here.
“Ifrah beta,” her mother's voice snapped her out of the little panic mode she had went to and she slightly raised her head to see that the room had gone quiet and all the women were now staring at her in anticipation. Her eyebrows creased together in confusion before her mother placed her warm hand on her cold one in a gentle manner and whispered in her ear.
“The imam has asked the question, sweetheart.”
Oh.
Right.
Ifrah had forgotten that she had to repeat the dreaded words three freaking times before she officially became that idiot's wife. Just the thought of him brought tears of sorrow but she swallowed them down and said the words for the third and last time that day, sealing her fate.
“I do.”
The room erupted into a series of congratulatory remarks and Ifrah felt her mother kiss the side of her head through the netted dupatta before all of the hands raised to pray for the newly weds. But she didn't feel happy at all. Ifrah wanted to run away from there. Her eyes shone like crystals due to the unshed tears when everyone was finished and her gaze raised up to see her father standing in the doorway, a fond, watery smile on his face.
Oh yes, baba will understand. He will let me slip away from here, maybe even help me with the money to fly to another country.
Right?
All of her hopeful thoughts went down the drain when she watched her father embrace the imam on his way out and she couldn't help the scowl that appeared on her face. Her mother was now guiding the ladies to the main hall and she was standing there, throwing daggers at no one in particular. The only thought playing in her mind right now was;
I'm surrounded by traitors.
“What's with the expression?”
Ifrah's head whipped to the side to see the girl she least wanted to meet standing there with a small smile on her lips. Her scowl deepened. Sarah Zia was the only person she could label with the word 'hate' in her life after that man.
Who was now (unfortunately) her husband.
She quickly masked her expression into one of an indifference before asking; “What do you mean?”
The raven haired girl bit her lip and came closer. “You were glaring at the poor, innocent old imam just now.” Ifrah's eyes rounded slightly as she continued. “Is marrying my cousin that horrible?”
