❥Sobia❥

I leaned against the wall, watching as the women applied turmeric to Falaq with playful affection. Today was her 'Haldi' ceremony, and although a part of me felt genuinely happy for her, there was an ache I couldn't ignore. Falaq was about to marry Shahzain, a man who adored her, someone who made her laugh effortlessly and cherished every moment with her.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I observed the scene in front of me. She deserved this happiness. Falaq had always been the optimistic one, the dreamer. And now, those dreams were coming true. But as I stood there, a quiet envy simmered beneath the surface. Why did love come so easily to her, while I always found myself entangled in hatred and betrayal?

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Alina approaching. Falaq's cousin, always sharp-tongued and quick to dampen even the brightest of moments. She was heading straight for the vacant seat beside Falaq, a spot I knew she would use to stir some mischief.

Without a second thought, I moved swiftly, making my way toward them. I slid into the seat just before Alina could claim it. She paused, eyes narrowing as she looked down at me, her lips curving into a tight, forced smile. "Sobia," she said, her voice laced with faux sweetness, "I was going to sit there."

I tilted my head and shrugged, meeting her gaze with indifference. "Well, now I'm sitting here. You can find another spot."

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, I could see the annoyance flash in her eyes. But she quickly masked it, looking around the room as if the matter were trivial. "Of course," she replied with a thin-lipped grin, stepping away to find another seat. But I didn't miss the way her gaze lingered on me, a subtle promise that she wasn't going to let this slide so easily.

Falaq, oblivious to the small exchange, giggled as her friends continued to smear turmeric on her cheeks. She caught my eye and beamed, her happiness contagious, pulling me back into the moment. I reached over and dabbed some turmeric on her forehead, eliciting another round of laughter from the women surrounding us.

But even in the midst of this joyful chaos, the ache in my chest remained. Falaq's happiness was a bittersweet reminder of everything I hadn't found yet. As much as I wanted to lose myself in the celebration, I couldn't shake the feeling that love had always been just out of reach for me.

And somewhere, in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered that maybe it always would be.

I shifted uncomfortably, my mind drifting back to yesterday's incident at home.

~FLASHBACK STARTS~

"Ladkiyan Ki Jaban Shahad jaese hone chahiye, mithaas se bhari hue." (A girl's tongue should be as sweet as honey.) My Phupphu declared, her voice filled with self-righteousness.

Anger had been simmering inside me for the past hour, fuelled by the nonsensical remarks my relatives kept spewing. I kept glancing at my mother, silently begging her to defend me. But I shouldn't have been surprised-like always, she remained silent.

It wasn't entirely her fault. My mother feared that if she spoke up, my father would leave her. He cherished his siblings more than anyone else. If he were ever forced to choose between us and his siblings, I knew he'd choose them without hesitation.

My parents' marriage had been forced upon them. They never wanted to be together, but the elders gave them no choice. In all my years, I had never seen them speak to each other with affection. Their conversations always ended in arguments. Sometimes, I wondered what life would be like if they got divorced, and the thought filled me with warmth.

Most children dread the idea of their parents separating, but I might be the only one who wishes for it. They were just too toxic together.

"Mana Ki ladke ki galte thi, par Sobia ko yu uspe haath nahi uthana chahiye tha." (Granted, the boy was at fault, but Sobia shouldn't have hit him.) My khala chimed in, and all the elder women nodded in agreement.

I felt suffocated, drowning in their opinions. It was no wonder so many women ended up suffering at the hands of men when they were raised by women like this.

Someone once said it perfectly: 'A woman's greatest enemy is often another woman.'

"Toh main kya karte? Bas khade hoke usse mujhe harass krne dete. Aur shaadi ke liye haa bol dete taaki woh mujhe zindagi usse bhi badtar suluk kare." (So what was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him harass me? Agree to marry him just so he could make my life even more miserable?) I snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

"Parveen, do you hear how she's talking back to her elders?" My Tayi Ammi said, her voice dripping with disapproval. "If her tongue keeps running like this, it won't be long before her husband leaves her because of her attitude."

Naive are those who believe that only the relatives from a father's side are troublesome. The cruel truth is, a snake is a snake, regardless of where it comes from. Both sides had their venom.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

"Aese ladkiyon ke ghar nhi baste, Shabnam." (Girls like her never make a home, Shabnam.) My Phuphu said coldly.

If no one was going to defend me, then I would do it on my own.

My anger boiled in my veins at her harsh words, but I refused to let it consume me. Instead, I stood tall, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Aapka bhi ghar bas gaya tha na? Toh mera bhi bas jaayega," I said, my voice steady but sharp. "Aapko zyada fikar karne ki zarurat nahi hai mere liye. Iska haq maine aapko nahi diya hai." (Your home was built, wasn't it? Then mine will be too. You don't need to worry about me. I never gave you the right to.)

The room fell into a tense silence. I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, shock and disapproval radiating from them like heat. They weren't used to being spoken to like this, especially not by someone like me. But I had had enough-enough of their judgment, enough of their outdated beliefs, enough of their attempts to control my life.

I could see my mother's shoulders slump in defeat, her eyes cast downwards as if she had been caught in some terrible mistake. But I wasn't going to apologize for speaking up-not now, not ever.

~FLASHBACK ENDS~

I let out a shaky breath, pulling myself back to the present. The weight of their words still lingered, like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

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"The groom's family has arrived," I informed Falaq's mother the moment I stood before her.

She looked stressed, repeatedly dialing someone's number, her fingers trembling. She gave me a forced, shaky smile, worry etched across her features.

Today was Falaq's wedding, held at one of the grand halls in Mumbai. The venue was beautifully decorated with flowers and lights, creating a magical atmosphere. Children were running around, playing and laughing, adding a lively energy to the celebration.

The soft hum of conversations filled the air as guests mingled, admiring the stunning décor. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with the aroma of rich spices from the food being prepared in the background. Every detail had been carefully arranged to create an unforgettable evening, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of tension-especially with Falaq still nowhere to be found.

I was dressed in a pink embroidered gharara and kameez, paired with a heavily embellished dupatta. My hair was styled in a sleek Sagar braid, and the jhumka I wore perfectly complemented my outfit. My makeup was natural, enhancing my features without being overdone.

"Pata nahi yeh ladki kaha reh gya hai. Parlour mai Tayyar hone ke liye itna time toh nhi lagta." (I don't know where that girl has gone. It doesn't take this long to get ready at the parlour.) She said, her voice laced with anxiety.

I could see the panic in her eyes, the fear that something had gone wrong. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and I couldn't help but feel a knot of unease forming in my stomach.

I glanced around, trying to catch sight of the bride, but she was still missing. The groom's family stood near the entrance, chatting politely, but I could see the growing impatience in their eyes. Falaq's mother was pacing now, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, her face pale with worry.

"Do you want me to call her?" I offered, hoping to calm her nerves.

She nodded quickly, handing me her phone. "Please, Sobia. I've tried so many times, but she's not picking up."

Taking the phone, I dialled Falaq's number, silently praying that she would answer.

The phone rang, but she didn't pick up. I tried again, but this time, her phone was switched off.

A wave of anxiety washed over me as I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what was happening. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more worrying than the last.

I turned back to Falaq's mother, who was watching me with wide, expectant eyes. Her face fell as she saw the look on mine. "Her phone is off," I said softly, unsure of how to break the news gently.

Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with panic. "What do we do now? Sobia, what if something's happened to her?"

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "Let me call the parlour's number. Falaq might be there."

Without waiting for her response, I hurried towards the exit as I dialed the parlour number, my heart pounding in my chest. Something was wrong, and I needed to find out what it was before it was too late.

After a few minutes, I walked back into the hall. To say I was worried would be an understatement. I recalled my conversation with the parlour, where they informed me that the bride had left an hour earlier. By their timeline, she should have arrived by now.

As I moved through the hall, I could hear guests whispering and speculating about why the bride hadn't yet shown up. The murmur of speculation filled the air, adding to the growing tension.

I noticed Shahzain, the groom, looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern. His eyes searched mine, silently asking where Falaq was. I shook my head in response, unable to offer any reassurance. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, making it fall messily around his face.

His eyes were filled with a blend of worry, pain, and uncertainty, reflecting the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him.

Shahzain's expression was a stark contrast to the celebratory atmosphere of the hall. The guests' whispers grew louder, and I could see the mounting frustration and unease in their faces.

I approached Shahzain cautiously, as I said. "We can't reach her. Her mobile is switched off."

"Mujhe fikar hore hai Falaq ki ab." Shahzain whispers. (I'm really concerned about Falaq now.)

Before I could offer any further reassurance, a group of people began approaching us, including my own family, as well as Shahzain's and Falaq's parents. Their anxious faces mirrored the growing tension in the room.

Shahzain's mother, her face pale and anxious, looked at me with a mix of hope and desperation. "Do you have any news?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I shook my head, giving her my answer.

They exchanged worried glances, as if reassessing their options. After a brief moment of silent agreement, they turned their attention back to Shahzain and me, their faces grim.

One of Falaq's relatives spoke up, their voice heavy with concern. "We've been trying to reach Falaq for a while now, and we still can't get in touch with her."

"And as you can see, the guests are starting to sense that something is wrong," another added. "If they find out the bride is missing, our reputation will be ruined."

Shahzain and I tensed, our hearts racing as we awaited the full revelation.

"So, after much discussion," my mother said, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes avoiding mine, "the elders have decided that in Falaq's place, Sobia will marry Shahzain."

The words hit us like a thunderclap. Shahzain's face went pale, and I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me. We had feared the worst, and now it seemed our fears were coming true.