Accidentally yours

The sun, streaming through the windows, irritated the girl sprawled on the bed. After five minutes of silent protest, she finally sat up, ruffling the bed sheet in annoyance. She was contemplating her life decisions in her groggy state when her phone dinged with a notification.

This is Alayna. A 23-year-old on the brink of graduation. Most people would be thrilled, but for a desi girl, graduation isn’t a celebration; it’s a countdown. It’s the looming sword of marriage, ready to behead her and her dreams of, well, anything other than being a bride. Marriage itself is a tedious concept, but for Alayna, it feels like a particularly personal and unavoidable doom.

She picked up her phone from the side table and squinted at the notification bar.

Zara… typing Ding

Before she opens the messages, she needs to be in the right headspace. It’s not that she ignores people, she just likes to be attentive. You know, give people the courtesy of her full attention. Basic decency, right? Right.

After freshening up, she picked up the phone. Zara never messages this early. She’s been a night owl since forever, while Alayna is the morning person. During exam season, Zara would be the one messaging at 11 PM for notes, long after Alayna had tucked herself into bed at 10. So, an early morning text was a surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise nonetheless.

She opened their chat and was met with a digital card, a PDF, and a text that simply said: “You have to be there. NO EXCUSES!!”

“Oh, she invited me to her brother’s wedding,” Alayna thought, sending a heart reaction to the message. “But when is it? I hope it’s not this month.” She thought

She opened the card.

*Zara weds Daniyal *

Below it was a whole list of events. A whole week of events.

“WHAT? WHATTTTT? WAIT A SECOND.”

She started typing furiously, then deleted it. Then typed again.

“Hey… hello, Zara? What is this? When did this happen? Like, I mean… what?”

The reply was instantaneous.

“Walaikum salam to you too. And yes, I’ve sent you the itinerary and details. You’re invited to my wedding. And not just the barat if that’s what you’re thinking. Aesa nahi hoga. You have to attend every single event. You’re my bridesmaid, girl!”

“Ok.”

That was the only thing Alayna could type in response. Her mind was a blank screen.

I mean, Zara and Alayna were friends. Good friends, even. But they weren’t the show-up-in-each-other’s-wedding kind of besties. Alayna had never really been anyone’s priority before. The kind of friend you call for the big stuff, but not the really big stuff. And now, to think Zara had not only invited her to her wedding, but looking at this itinerary, it was a week-long affair, and she was invited to all of it. The thought just hung there, a strange and unexpected warmth in her chest. But a confusing one at that.

…………

Alayna is no longer at the age bracket where she can use her “ mama baba nhi maneingy” excuse.

She is complicated. She gets social anxiety in crowds. From the outside, she comes off as shy and Introverted. The kind of girl who’d rather study the birds and patterns on the floor than make eye contact.

But here’s the thing about Alayna, if you actually get to know her? If you push past that initial wall? She’s a certified yapper. The floodgates open. And she would spill her lifetime secrets in a single first conversation.

But events? Spaces where she knows absolutely no one? She dreads them with every fiber of her being. Opening up to new people feels like presentations, technically possible, but exhausting, and she’ll probably mess it up halfway through. Or she might actually zone out mid conversation.

A weeklong desi wedding. As much as she was happy for her friend. She dreaded the upcoming events as it was going to be whole lot exhausting and miserable…..

………………………………………………

“Mmma?” (Not looking up, obviously busy with something)

“Hmm”.

“Mama?”.

“HAAN.” She replied annoyed

“Mama wo Zara ki shadi hy” Alayna told her mother.

“Acha. so “

“She invited me to her wedding”

“Toh chali jaana.” Ammi waved a dismissive hand. “When is it? If you’re worried about going there, take your brother. He’ll drive you.”

Alayna took a breath. Here it comes.

“She invited me to all the wedding events. It’s a seven-day affair.” She rushed the next words out before she could lose courage. “The nikkah and first four events are in Bhurban, and the rest in Islamabad. I can’t commute every day. Plus….” she added quickly, “Zara has booked rooms for guests.”

Silence.

“Let me talk to Zara’s mother first.” Ammi’s tone had shifted more like neutral tone from the previous careless one “Tell her I want to talk to her mother.”

Alayna’s heart did a strange little flip. “Maazrat karne ke liye?” she asked, assuming the worst. Assuming Ammi would politely excuse her on some made-up grounds , family commitments, ladki ka akele jaana theek nahi.

Because here’s the thing: Alayna’s family was the chill-but-conservative kind. The kind that trusts their child completely but doesn’t trust the outside world one bit. The kind that never lets her stay anywhere except her cousins’ house. The kind where this week-long wedding, strangers, hotels, boys ..should come under scrutiny and careful consideration. everything else she is allowed.

And yet.

As much as she dreaded the events, the crowds, the strangers, the performance of being fine .something in her chest tightened at the thought of not going. Zara had invited her. Specifically. Out of everyone Zara could have chosen, she chose Alayna.

It would look bad if she didn’t show up.

Worse, it would feel bad.

The most mama would probably allow. Staying at her khala’s in Islamabad for the events there. Attending in parts, pieces, never fully there. Always the guest, never quite the bridesmaid.

Classic Alayna.

And to top it off? A destination wedding.

A destination wedding. In the mountains. With events and outfits and the whole thing.

It would be something, wouldn’t it? It would be so much fun.

………………………………………………………………

If what you’ve gathered until now is that Alayna is an anxious mess?

Wait.

Just wait.

Because you haven’t met her bad luck yet.

A week after the wedding invitation, Alayna found herself in Islamabad. Two reasons: helping Zara with wedding prep (because apparently that’s what bridesmaids do), and shopping for dresses.

Emphasis on the dresses.

SHE NEEDED DRESSES.

Like, multiple dresses. For multiple events

And yes.

Before you ask.

Yes, what you’re thinking is absolutely correct.

Alayna’s parents said yes.

TO ALL OF IT.

The Islamabad events. The Bhurban events. The seven-day, two-city, multiple-outfit, hotel-stay, destination wedding.

All of it.

Ammi had talked to Zara’s mother. And something in that conversation convinced her. Completely. Thoroughly. Enough that when Alayna came downstairs that evening, bracing for the hum soch rahey hain, Ammi had just looked at her and said:

“What are you going to wear on zara’s nikkah?”

Just like that.

Alayna had stood there, mouth half open, waiting for the catch that never came.

And now here she was. In Islamabad. With a to-do list as long as her arm, a best friend who wouldn’t stop screaming every time they found a good outfit, and absolutely zero awareness of what was about to hit her.

Because Alayna’s bad luck?

It hadn’t gone anywhere.

After a long and exhausting day at shopping malls and bazaars. During which she been been dragged into thirteen different shops, and heard Zara say “yeh le lo, yeh bhi le lo, OKAY FINE final yeh le lo” at least eight times, it was finally time to go back.

Alayna stood by the roadside, feet aching, bags hanging from both arms, waiting for her khala to pick her up

And then she saw it.

A car. Pulled over on the side of the road. Headlights blinking. Blinking again. Signaling. Waiting.

Her khala.

Alayna practically sprinted toward it, bags swinging wildly.

“Coming, coming,” she muttered under her breath, yanking open the front door and collapsing into the passenger seat. She slammed the door shut, dropped the bags at her feet, and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

Finally.

Then she felt it.

A presence.

Wrong presence.

The kind of presence that makes the hair on your arms stand up because your brain is screaming something is off but you haven’t caught up yet.

She looked to her right.

A stranger sat in the driver’s seat. Staring at her. Brows scrunched. Mouth slightly open. Very clearly confused.

Alayna’s heart climbed into her throat and lodged there.

And then, because the universe has a sense of humor, her phone started ringing.

She looked down. Khala’s name flashed on the screen.

She looked up at the stranger. Still staring.

She looked back at the phone. Still ringing.

She answered, voice barely a whisper.

“Hello?”

“Where ARE you?” Khala’s voice screeched through the speaker. “I’ve been waiting since forever! Do you want me to get a fine? Do you know what these traffic wardens do?”

Alayna’s eyes stayed locked on the strangers. His brows had somehow scrunched further. A feat she hadn’t thought possible.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then, in a voice that came out about three octaves higher than normal:

“SORRY. SORRY. WRONG CAR. WRONG CAR. SO SORRY.”

She fumbled for the door handle. Tumbled out in a hurry. Grabbed her bags, she didn’t care and ran.

Not walked. Not hurried.

Ran. Like a criminal. Like someone who needed to be in a different postal code immediately.

Behind her, the stranger’s car didn’t move.

He probably needed a moment to process what had just happened.

Honestly? Same.

…………………………………………………………………………..

About walking a few steps ahead. At some point she stopped running or it would have been more embarrassing.

That’s when she saw it.

Parked about twenty meters ahead, hazard lights blinking, exactly where she should have been looking in the first place.

The same car model. Same colour. Same silver Toyota.

With her khala standing next to it. On the phone. Looking around impatiently.

Alayna’s brain did a quick replay of the last two minutes.

She should dig a pit and bury herself in it as she was embarrassed beyond anything.

Wrong car. Wrong street side. Wrong everything.

Two identical cars. On the same street. Within fifty meters of each other.

In her defense and she would like it noted, for the record, that she was not a lunatic who randomly climbed into strangers’ vehicles the cars were practically twins. Same Toyota. Same silver. Same year, probably.

And Alayna?

Alayna had been running on three hours of sleep, and whatever remaining sanity she’d started the day with (which was, admittedly, not much).

So yes. She got into the wrong car.

Yes. She screamed at a stranger.

And yes. She had now, technically, committed herself to never being able to show her face in this part of Islamabad ever again.

But at least khala hadn’t seen any of it.

Small mercies.

Alayna stared straight ahead as the car pulled away.

Some embarrassments?

You take to the grave. or might just tell your friends when you have nothing left to spill on a random day.