15.

ANAM'S POV

The days leading up to the Niqah were a whirlwind. Not only was the pressure of the ceremony mounting, but my exams were also just around the corner. I couldn't help but feel a constant weight on my chest as everything seemed to pile up at once. I had been quietly enduring the tension at home, but Ayub noticed. She had become more observant of me lately, especially since I was becoming increasingly withdrawn.

She came to me that morning, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Anam api, we're going out today. We're going shopping and to the salon! You can't say no."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. "I'm not in the mood for shopping, Ayub. I have to study."

"But you need to relax before the exams, and you'll need to look perfect for the Niqah," she insisted, her voice light and teasing. "Trust me, this will be fun. You haven't had a girls' outing since forever!"

The idea was tempting, especially with everything happening in the house. Maybe some time away would do me good. I was surprised when Ayub also made an appointment at the salon for waxing, hair treatments, and facials. She was adamant that I should be pampered... something I could hardly refuse after seeing the happiness in her eyes.

I agreed reluctantly, still unsure. But as we got ready, excitement started bubbling up inside me. The thought of being with Ayub in a carefree setting, away from all the chaos, seemed like a moment of freedom I desperately needed. We were heading out for some fun, and I couldn't deny how much I craved it.

Just as we were about to leave, Chachi came into the living room, her face already scrunched in disapproval. She looked us up and down, her eyes narrowing as she assessed our attire. "Where do you think you're going, looking like that? And Ayub, what on earth are you wearing? You're dressing up Anam like a princess, but she's just... this?" She gestured to me with a dismissive hand. "Do you think this will make you more attractive, Anam? You're just... too much, really. How are you ever going to keep Feras' attention if you look like that?"

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the anger that flared inside me. Chachi's words always stung, but it was her obsession with my appearance that was getting unbearable. She was the last person I wanted to listen to right now.

Ayub, however, was having none of it. She stepped forward, her face stern, and looked Chachi squarely in the eye. "Chachi, enough. I don't care what you think about Anam. She's perfect the way she is, and if you don't like it, then stay out of our way."

For a moment, the room was silent, but then the tension was broken when Ayan entered, his presence always a breath of fresh air. "Kya ho rha hai he yaha pe?" he asked, his tone playful, looking between Chachi and Ayub. (What's happening over here?)

"I'm not letting them go out. What good is it if Anam keeps dressing like this?" Chachi snapped, crossing her arms.

I looked at her in horror, I was dressed more than appropriately, with my hijab on place and a huge chadar draped all over my body.

"Chachi, seriously," Ayan said, stepping forward and shrugging on his jacket. "Let them go. And look at her, she's dressed more than modestly, plus Anam deserves to have fun before all the chaos of the Niqah and exams start."

He turned to Ayub and me. "Let me give you two a lift. I was about to leave anyway."

Chachi huffed, but Ayub and I were both more than happy to accept. It was an excuse to escape, and Ayan always had a way of easing the tension. We walked out, Ayan leading the way to his BMW.

Once in the car, Ayub sat up front, Ayan driving, while I sat in the back, my head against the window as I tried to clear my mind of everything.

"I can't believe she still gets on your case about everything," Ayub muttered from the front, shaking her head. "Wo samajti kya hain apne ap ko, apni beti to smalne nahi hoti, hame chali hain modesty ka meaning samjhane." (Who does she think she is? Can't even handle her own daughter, and here she's lecturing us on modesty.)

Ayan glanced at her with a grin. "Yeah, well, Chachi's an expert in finding flaws, par tum bhi kuch kam nhi ho, mai sun rha tha tum kayse tar tar ke jawab de rhi thi unhe. Akhir unhi ka to takht sambhalna hai tume" (Yeah, well, Chachi's an expert at finding flaws, but you're no less. I was listening to how you were snapping back at her. After all, you're the one who has to take over her throne.)

She pouted glaring at him. "Akhir bolna kya chahte hain ap bhai?" (What are you trying to say bhai?)

"kuch nahi, hamari kya aukaad ke hum kuch bholein ap ke samne?" He laughed, his easygoing nature lightening the atmosphere. (Nothing. Who am I to say anything in front of you?)

But it didn't last long. The bickering between Ayub and Ayan started again, their playful back-and-forth like a normal sibling exchange, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else beneath it all. Ayan's teasing was gentle, but there was an edge to it, as if he were trying to get under Ayub's skin, just enough to provoke a reaction.

I watched them for a moment, the way Ayan would look at her when she wasn't paying attention, his eyes lingering a bit too long, as if there was something more there than just sibling affection. I kept listening to their conversation in awe, they're just too cute.

As they continued to bicker, I couldn't help but feel like there was an undercurrent of something else...something unspoken... between them.

Eventually, Ayan bhai parked outside the mall, the conversation easing into silence.

As we walked into the salon, a slight sense of self-consciousness crept up on me. Ayub had already made the appointment for me without telling me beforehand, and I hadn't expected the whole process to be so... well, meticulous. She had insisted that I treat myself to a full pampering session... hair, waxing, manicure, pedicure... and I couldn't say no to her enthusiasm, can't refuse, I myself am excited. But as the door opened and the soft hum of hairdryers and chatter greeted me, I suddenly felt a small, inexplicable wave of insecurity.

I glanced at my reflection in the glass door as I entered, my eyes instinctively flickering to my body. My curves, especially around my hips, had always been a point of self-doubt, especially when surrounded by people with more... conventional beauty standards. I had never really thought too much about it before, but today, as the cold air of the salon wrapped around me, I couldn't help but feel just a bit awkward. What would they think? What would they say about my thick body hair?

Before I could spiral any further into the self-doubt, a soft, welcoming voice broke through my thoughts.

"Hello, you must be Anam!" The stylist, a middle-aged woman with warm eyes, stood up from behind the counter and walked toward me. "I'm Samana. I'll be taking care of you today. Ayub has already told me what we're doing, so we'll get started right away."

Her kind tone and her genuine smile made the nerves ease instantly. I smiled back, feeling a little silly for letting my insecurities take over for even a second, I should seriously stop overthinking so much.

"Thank you," I murmured, my self-consciousness gradually melting away as she led me to the chair. The lady was so attentive, so gentle, and she made everything feel effortless. The warm towels, and the delicate handling of my hair,  seemed to transport me out of my own head. For once, I let go of the weight of my thoughts.

As the stylist worked on my hair, I glanced at Ayub who was happily chatting with the receptionist. She didn't seem to notice my quiet retreat into my own mind, and honestly, I didn't mind. It was nice to have a moment to myself to just relax.

Once we finished, Ayub took me straight to the shopping mall, and we breezed through the bustling hallways filled with people. My mind shifted, distracted from my earlier worries, and I let myself enjoy the process of choosing clothes. Still, the thought of the upcoming Niqah lingered. I wondered how Feras would treat me after everything, after the ceremony. Would he warm up to me? I hope he does, because I don't think this fragile heart of mine will be able to handle the cold and distant treatment from my own husband.

I chuckled at my thoughts... "husband"

I shook the thought off, smiling at Ayub, who was tugging me toward the next shop. But as we passed a small bookstore in the corner of the mall, my gaze shifted almost involuntarily toward the display window. The sight of the neatly stacked books caught my attention, and before I knew it, my feet had carried me toward the door.

Ayub, noticing my distraction, raised an eyebrow. "You're looking at books, Anam api? I thought we were here for clothes." she lifted her left eyebrow.

I grinned sheepishly. "I know, but I've been eyeing Jannat Ke Patte for a while now. I've promised myself I'll get it once exams are over."

She rolled her eyes but smiled in a way that made it clear she wasn't going to stop me. "Alright, go on. You deserve it."

As I entered the store, the smell of fresh paper and ink enveloped me. It was like walking into a different world. I made my way straight to the section where the book I had been waiting to buy was displayed. Jannat Ke Patte—I had watched a lot of reels and edits about it. Its title spoke to me in a way I couldn't quite explain. I had wanted it for so long, but with the constant pressure of university, I couldn't afford to get distracted.

Promising myself that I wouldn't open it until my exams were over. I touched the cover and felt happiness surge through my body.

But then my eyes drifted over the shelf, and before I knew it, I had five other books in my arms... stories of faith, struggles, self-discovery, and ahem ahem... romance. I hadn't planned on buying more, but in that moment, it felt right. I felt a small thrill of excitement, imagining how I would spend my nights after the exams, curled up with these books in my room, lost in their pages.

.....

After the bookstore, Ayub tugged me toward another section of the mall, her excitement practically bubbling over. "Okay, bookworm," she teased, glancing at the bag in my hand. "Now that you've got your precious books, let's focus on the real reason we're here... your Niqah dress!"

I laughed at her enthusiasm, feeling a warm bubble of happiness rise in my chest. She had a way of making everything feel light and joyful. Ayub's cheerfulness was contagious. For the first time in a while, I found myself genuinely looking forward to the outing.

The boutique she led me to was elegant, the walls adorned with rich fabrics and glittering embroidery. The sight alone took my breath away. Ayub had impeccable taste, and I trusted her completely when it came to picking out something special.

As we browsed through the racks of dresses, I felt a renewed sense of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out. I'd been so caught up in my worries about Feras and how he'd treat me that I hadn't allowed myself to fully embrace the joy of this new chapter in my life. Today felt like a fresh start... a chance to feel beautiful, confident, and deserving of the happiness I hoped for.

"Oh, look at this one!" Ayub exclaimed, holding up a stunning maroon lehenga adorned with intricate golden embroidery. "This would look so regal on you."

I reached out to touch the fabric, the smooth silk gliding beneath my fingers. "It's beautiful," I admitted, though I couldn't quite imagine myself in something so grand. "But don't you think it's a bit... too much?"

Ayub rolled her eyes dramatically. "Anam api, it's your Niqah! If there's ever a day to be 'too much,' it's today."

I laughed, shaking my head at her persistence. "Fine, fine. Let's add it to the list of maybes."

As the hours went by, we tried on dress after dress, each one more dazzling than the last. Ayub was relentless, pulling me out of my shell and encouraging me to experiment with colors and styles I wouldn't have considered on my own.

Finally, I slipped into a soft pastel pink lehenga with delicate silver embroidery. It was understated yet elegant, and the moment I saw myself in the mirror, I knew it was the one. The way the fabric flowed, the way it shimmered ever so slightly under the light... it felt perfect.

Ayub clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting up. "That's it! That's the one, Anam api. You look... stunning."

A blush crept up my cheeks at her words, but her smile was so genuine that I couldn't help but feel a little proud. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely." She grinned, pulling out her phone to snap a picture. "Now we just need to find the perfect jewelry to go with it."

As we moved on to accessories, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me. Ayub had always been my biggest supporter, and her presence today reminded me that I wasn't alone in this journey.

On the way back to the car, Ayub and I were chatting animatedly about the day's purchases when Chachi's taunts earlier came back to my mind. For a split second, I wondered if she'd approve of the dress or find something else to criticize. But then Ayub's laughter brought me back to the moment, and I decided not to let negativity cloud my happiness.

As we approached the car, Ayan was already waiting for us, leaning casually against his BMW with a mischievous grin. "Took you two long enough," he teased, opening the door for us. "I was starting to think you got lost in the mall."

"We were busy making sure your bhabhi looked perfect for the Niqah," Ayub shot back, her tone playful as she slid into the passenger seat.

Ayan raised an eyebrow at me through the rearview mirror, his grin widening. "Perfect, huh? Let me guess, you bought half the mall?"

"Only half," I replied with a smile, feeling a little more relaxed in his easygoing presence. "The other half didn't match my vibe."

He laughed, the sound filling the car as he started the engine. "Fair enough. Just don't let Chachi see the bill, warna wo bichari toh be-hosh hi ho jayein ghi." (Just don't let chachi see the bill, or else she'll faint.)

As we drove home, Ayub and Ayan's bickering kept the mood light. They teased each other relentlessly, their banter flowing so naturally that it felt like watching a comedy show. But amidst the laughter, I couldn't help but notice the way Ayan's gaze softened whenever he looked at Ayub. There was something more than sibling affection in his eyes... a tenderness that hinted at feelings he wasn't quite ready to voice.

I smiled to myself, filing that observation away for later.

By the time we reached home, I felt lighter, happier. The worries about the Niqah were still there, but they didn't feel as heavy. I had faith that Allah had a plan for me, and I was determined to trust in that plan.