Her marriage day is the best day of her life for every girl, not to mention the most beautiful day, showered with all the pampering from her loved one, the endless shopping, and mainly surrounded by people she loves the most; her beloved family and her friends. It is said that a girl will look most beautiful on her wedding day and why not? After all, the extra pampering and care are given to her and majorly, because of the feeling of meeting her soul mate after all.
This all would have been true for Asmaira if it befell a few months ago; however, for Asmaira, it was far from the reality. Instead of happiness, she was met with fear, emptiness, and restlessness. Instead of being surrounded by her family, she was surrounded by loneliness; instead of thinking about her future with her husband, she was scared to finally face him.
Here she sat on a couch in the room for the past 2 hours, yes, two hours since her marriage, two hours since she became Mrs. Hashmi, a title which was more of a torment than a blessing. Not moving an inch, not breathing loudly so as not to offend anyone, not that there was anyone around her. She has invariably been an introvert all her life, and her only dream was to make her parents proud. She would do anything or would leave anyone for her parent’s sake. Unlike other girls, she never craved attention from anyone.
On the contrary, she would lose her confidence when she set off getting any attention, especially from the opposite gender, since she was old school when it comes to men. Her neck started aching for keeping her head low for so long, yet she dare not to raise her head; by any bad luck, meet HIM, although he was now her husband. She was not scared to face her future in this giant mansion. She already recognized what would come in her way. Still, She was scared of not meeting the expectations she set and was afraid of not fulfilling her promise no matter how much everybody loathed her.
‘Where are you? Why are you not here? Please come and tell me that you will figure out the problem for me as always’. Asmaira thought while a lone tear fell from her eye, remembering her Savior, who always protected her in her difficult times since her childhood.
Though she has been crying since the day she said yes to the marriage, she can’t stop herself from crying anymore. It was her decision wholly and solely to get entangled in this marriage whose foundation was founded on nothing but hate.
Finally, she dared to conjure up her head and observe the room to kill her anxiety. ‘I will die of a heart attack even before he confronts me and kills me,’ she thought, pushing her black glasses over her nose, trying to calm her nervousness. The room was decorated with a class to her expectation, and every bit of it cried out luxury and money. The room was spacious enough to hold a 2 BHK apartment, with minimum furniture, a king-size bed, a sofa, a dresser to make it look spacious, floor aligned with gray soft faux carpet.
Each corner has a lavender plant making them stand out on a white background. One corner has a floor-length book cabinet with a recliner and a contemporary styled floor lamp, making it a heaven for book lovers. ′Just like she always wanted’, thinking about her, she slowly set about observing the room. Every bit and every corner was a reminder about her. The walls were painted to illuminate the entire room once the sun rays fall on them.
Clothes were neatly hung at another corner. Instead, you could say another room as ‘she’ always used to say, ‘I would possess a separate room to keep my high-end clothing collection.’ Asmaira uses to roll her eyes, thinking how could she talk like a wealthy class when they were from a middle class, she and her so-called dream, making Asmaira sigh.
What caught her attention was a bare wall opposite the king-size bed covered with so many pictures of a couple. Merely by the look of it, you can say there is so much in love, with the brightest of smiles. The girl’s smile was so contagious that Asmaira automatically smiled, remembering how charismatic she was. That was her! For a moment, seeing her picture, Asmaira forgot her misery; the emptiness was quickly filled with all the endearing memories. Subconsciously she raised her hand to touch her picture, to feel her as if she was there with her, protecting her like a shield.
Asmaira failed to notice someone else’s presence in her trance, and before she could hold the picture, an arm came and caught her wrist with an intense force that made her turn to see who it was. Unfortunate for her, he was right in front of her. The man who she was praying not to meet ever. His face was grim and gloomy, eyes filled with so much hatred that she had to bow her head not to die out of the horrible feeling his stare was giving. His cold gaze was enough to make her forget the pain she was enduring. This happened to be their first meet though they were connected before by intense hatred towards each other. She was scared of him at that moment would have been an understatement because she knew very well what his thoughts were about her and the marriage. Asmaira thought it was stupid for her to be around him currently. She was naive and timid but not stupid to offend him at this stage.
He was the same man from the picture, but without any emotions. Her greatest fear. Who she never wanted to encounter again in her life. Her HUSBAND!