© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

I actually forgot that in Ismael's case, for Hania it would be a wedding from her maika AND sasural. I completely forgot that Hamza should be busy organising a wedding with his father as well! 

****

Hania

Here was the schedule for the two weddings: 

Day One: Combined Nikah & Mehendi for both sides. Omar Bhai/Zunaira Bhabi and Ismael/Rabia. It had been Ahad Mamu's suggestion, and everyone had absolutely loved the idea. It would be a grand celebration, and it would save up on the outfits! 

Day Two: Omar Bhai's Wedding 

Day Three: Ismael & Rabia's Wedding 

Day Four: Omar Bhai's Valima

Day Five: Ismael and Rabia's Valima

I felt exhausted just thinking about it, but I was also very excited. We were all working together to help each other out with the various weddings, so it was awesome. 

My parents had to work for three sides, because Omar Bhai was Papa's nephew, Ismael was Mama's nephew and they had actually volunteered to help Daniyal Uncle out as much as possible, to which he was grateful. Uncle had relatives in Lahore, of course, but Rabia felt more comfortable shopping with me, and so I dragged Mama and/or my aunts along, and we all helped my almost-Nand out, whereas Papa helped Uncle out with other matters. 

The day before the mehendi, we were gathered at Phupho's house. Hamza was with his father today, doing last minute errands, but he said that he would try and come by for a while, to which Zafar Uncle had told him to bring Daniyal Uncle along. 

Currently, I stood on the rooftop, watching the older part of Lahore. I loved watching this view. 

"Would I be disturbing you if I come here?" 

I turned and saw Omar Bhai standing at the landing, his gaze lowered as usual. "No, of course not." 

He stood a good few feet beside me, staring towards the other side, politely keeping his gaze averted. From here, we were in clear sight of our elders, and I could see the efforts my cousin brother was making to keep things acceptable. "Hania, Mamma has told you how I've always wanted a little sister, and I have always treated you and Iman as such."

"Yes, Bhai." I also turned away, because the don't-stare-at-non-mehram rules applies to both guys and girls. 

"You're doing everything that sisters do at their brother's wedding, and you are really helping Mamma out, so I really appreciate that, first of all." 

"If you are about to thank me, don't bother." I smiled, glancing back across the rooftops. "Your Mamma is my Phupho, and I love helping her out." 

"Will you be offended if I thank you then?" He laughed lightly.

"Absolutely." I pretended to sulk. "I would think that you don't actually consider me your sister." 

He laughed louder. "Okay, I won't thank you. But yes, I really and truly appreciate it. My Mamma hasn't had an easy life, and now I just want to give her peace and the chance to just sit back, relax and enjoy life." 

"Well, as your mother, she can't sit back and relax on your wedding, but I have great respect for you for thinking that way. May Allah reward you for thinking about your mother that way. Ameen." 

From the corner of my eye, I saw the wind ruffle gently through Omar Bhai's beard. Being with him gave me a sense of peace, and I genuinely felt like I was besides my own biological brother, rather than my cousin. The sense of security I got from him, I didn't get from other non-mehrams. My deepest instincts told me that I could truly and completely trust him, with not even a hint of mistrust that I usually felt around other non-mehrams.

And it was easy to imagine him as my biological brother, because his nature and personality was a reflection of Papa's. Ma Sha Allah, Phupho and Zafar Uncle had raised him well, as well as Zaid.

****

Hamza took me for some last minute shopping, as he wanted me to help him select some footwear for the functions. 

And of course, since we were at Liberty, I made him come to a jewellery shop with me. I wanted to check out some jhumka earrings and some bangles. He found my wide-eyed staring at the display cases very amusing, and he just stood there watching me as I chose an item of jewellery for everyone else but myself.

"Mama likes jhumka earrings as much as I do." 
"This nose stud will look so pretty on Mani!"
"Ooh...Phupho loves kangan!"
"Aww, this set would look so good on Zoya Mumani!"
"Nazia Mumani loves simple chains like these ones!"
"Oh! This brooch would suit Dado so much, right?" 

"And what does Hania want for herself?" He asked, stepping closer.

"Hania wants to see the smiles on her family's faces as she presents them these gifts." I shrugged.

"Hania, it should be criminal to be this selfless." He shook his head. "You know what? Let me select something for you!" 

And he selected a pair of beautiful gold and diamond earrings (artificial) with a diamond crescent moon and flower design, with small diamonds dangling from the larger moon shape. 

"These are beautiful!" I was in awe. "Thank you, Hamza." 

"Why are you thanking me? I just selected them, I'm not buying them for you!" He winked at me, teasingly.

I pouted, turning my back towards him. "Fine. Then I won't buy them at all." 

"Good. That's money saved." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I marched out of the shop, carrying the bags that contained the gifts for all the main ladies of my life.

I was staring at some clothes in the display store across the alley from the jewellery store, when I felt him come up behind me.

"Kuch unhain pasand ho, to kaise hum unhain us cheez se mehroom rakh sakte hain?" He whispered, making my body shudder in pleasure as I felt his warm breath at my temple, the scent of his cologne soon filling my senses.

*"If she likes something, how can I deprive her of it?"

I bit back a smile. His Urdu, with his gorgeous Scottish accent, was adorable.

"Yeh leeliye, Hania Ji." He held up a small bag. "Your earrings."

*"Here you go, Miss Hania."

I turned to face him, smiling. "I adore you. Thank you!" 

"I can get you actual diamond earrings made exactly like this, if you want." He offered.

"The value of something isn't in how much it costs, Hamza. It's in the feeling behind it." I put a hand on his cheek. "If you give me toy, plastic earrings with genuine love, I will still cherish them more than any genuine gold or diamond." 

"You look so beautiful that I just want to take you back home and..." He stepped closer to me and began to whisper things in my ears that caused a deep blush in my cheeks and a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. 

"Hamza!" I shoved him back, lightly. "Behave yourself publicly!" I looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying attention and hadn't noticed our almost PDA. He began to lean closer again and I ducked away and began to head in the direction of where the car was parked.

He caught up to me, took my hand and we walked towards the exit of the bazaar. "Wait here." He nodded towards a shop nearby, that was crowded with ladies. "I'll bring the car around. It's a long walk." 

I nodded, too tired to walk anyway.

It was then that I firstnoticed a woman staring at me in a way that made it seem like that she had seena ghost. Ugh, she's probably judging me and Hamza for our 'shameless'behaviour. I couldn't help blushing again at the thought of beingcaught in an almost PDA situation in public in Pakistan.

The woman seemed to be close to Papa's age, maybe, with black hair in a bun. I tried to recall ever seeing her before. Nope, nothing.

I turned away, uncomfortably, glancing around at the bazaar. Hamza, please hurry up!

"Excuse me?"

I looked up and saw the judgmental-looking Aunty standing a few feet away. "Yes?"

"Are you related to Jasmina Sheikh?" 

I was startled to hear Mama's full maiden name. "She hasn't been that in over twenty-two years. How do you know her?" 

"Are you her daughter?" Her eyes widened, slightly.

And then it occurred to me that I shouldn't be sharing personal information with a stranger. It was common sense, drilled into our heads since childhood.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I looked around to see if Hamza was back yet. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't give out personal information to anyone." 

"No, I understand." She pursed her lips together. "I knew Jasmina, once upon a time. When I saw you, I actually thought you were her, but you look too young to be her." 

I looked at her curiously, not willing to say anything to confirm that I was indeed the daughter of Jasmina Fawad. 

"My name is Laiba. My sister used to be the wife of Ahad Sheikh." Her words made my jaw drop. "My mistakes ended her marriage, but a lot has changed since then." 

"The wife of Ahad Sheikh?!" I repeated, bewildered. I shook my head to clear my confusion. "Were you a friend of... Jasmina Sheikh?" 

She laughed almost humourlessly. "Friend is a strong word. In reality, I barely personally knew her. I just knew of her." 

"How?" 

"Ask your father. Dr Fawad Ali, right?" Her eyes brightened at his name, as if she was talking about a celebrity crush or something. 

"I didn't say that I was..."

"You look too much like her to deny it." She smiled, and she was actually quite pretty. "Apne Papa se kehna ke tum Laiba Aunty se mile thi. Sab clear ho jayaiga, beta."

*"Tell your Papa that you met Laiba Aunty. All will be clear then." 

Before I could question her further, she turned and rushed away.

I stood there staring after her until I heard the horn of a car. Turning my head, I saw Hamza had pulled up outside the area where I was, waving his hand towards me.

"I see you made a new friend?" He grinned in the direction of where Laiba Aunty had gone. "Good for you, Han, not being an ageist when it comes to making friends!" 

"That was very strange." I muttered.

"What? Why?" He took a swig from his water of bottle that had been resting in the cup holder between our seats. I let him drink before I shocked him, because I didn't want him to choke...or spit out the drink all over me. The latter thought made me smile. "Apparently, her sister was previously married to Ahad Mamu. But please keep this to yourself. I'm only telling you this because you're my husband." 

Hamza whistled. "Your Ahad Mamu really fits the stereotype of a bad boy well. Multiple wives, motorcycles. I'm genuinely impressed." 

I smacked his arm, lightly. "Oh, hush!" 

Even as he began to talk about light subjects, I couldn't stop thinking about my weird meeting with that woman. What is the mystery behind this?

****

Fariha

It's been over two decades since I left the past behind for good, and started a new life with the actual love of my life, Zafar. And I haven't regretted a moment of my married life with him.

But fragments of the past keep dropping into my life, especially through Saad. He didn't want to let go of Umair, despite knowing everything about him.

The years of abuse, the negligence, the mental torture, scrounging of my money, but Saad overlooked all that and just saw his biological father. I wouldn't have an issue with him respecting his father, if not for the fact that Umair had completely disregarded him and Omar for years. Umair had overlooked all the abuse that my sons had suffered at the hands of his siblings and their families. 

And now my middle child stood at the front gate of my home, with his trashy biological father. 

"How can you not invite me and Papa to Bhai's wedding?" Saad accused me.

"You are invited, Saad, and you know that very well." I didn't step aside to let them in. Saad was welcome but the man beside him wasn't. Certainly not in the absence of Zafar.

"Papa has more of a right over Omar Bhai than Zafar Papa." Saad said bitterly, as Umair stood beside him with his head bowed, acting like a humble, mistreated man. 

"I disagree. Zafar is the one who took care of us all, so I myself give him more rights over my children." I frowned. "Take this man away from here please, Saad." 

"We're coming to the wedding, Mamma. You have no right to keep Papa away from it." 

"Yes, but I do." Omar's voice made me turn. He was coming through the front door, frowning. "I have great regards for my elders, but I don't want him at my wedding. Mamma and Zafar Papa are more than enough for me. You are more than welcome, Saad, but if you bring him along, you will be turned away. This is a happy occasion for Mamma, and I don't want him coming along and spoiling it for her." He came and stood beside me, almost protectively. 

"Omar..." Umair stepped towards my firstborn.

"I really don't want to disrespect you, but please do not come back here. This is Zafar Papa's house, not yours, and you're not welcome here." Omar closed the gate, before turning to me. "I don't know what's wrong with Saad, but as long as I'm here, you won't have to face him. I don't know why he keeps throwing your past back in your face again and again anyway."

"It's okay, Omar. My past is irrelevant now. All that matters is that I have Zafar and my children. I have faith that Saad will eventually return back to me as well." I prayed for that every single day, sobbing as I made duas after each namaaz.

For now, all I cared about getting my son's wedding done without any problems. 

****

Hania

I couldn't stop thinking about the weird encounter with the strange woman, even as I got ready at the parlour for the grand mehendi ceremony. I hadn't asked Papa about it because I felt weird. What if she had been an ex of his? But it made no sense to me. I couldn't even imagine him being with anyone else but Mama. I knew that I was being naive, and in reality things didn't work out the way they were in my head, but I guess I didn't want to think about him being with anyone else. I knew about Mama's past too, but somehow thinking about Papa's former relationship made me feel almost possessive, almost in a childish manner, like 'He's our Papa, and only ours, and he only belongs to us and Mama. No outsider welcome.' 

Yes, I'm super immature.

I wore a short yellow kameez with a matching chudidar. The kameez had white patterns and designs stitched on it, and was relatively simple. The dupatta was a deep green with a yellow border. My hair was in a bun, adorned by gajray. I wore the earrings that Hamza had chosen for me, and I absolutely loved how they looked in my ears.

Iman wore an olive green shalwar-kameez with wide flowing shalwar and gold khusay (traditional flat footwear). She had braided her hair, and had actually weaved a paranda through it, to everyone's surprise. I was certain my parents were going to be approached about her rishta during these wedding functions. The thought greatly amused me, but Mama was not looking forward to it.

Rabia, the beautiful bride, got ready with us, because I was technically the closest female from her side. At this point, I was basically representing both sides. She wore a long green Anarkali dress with orange and cream floral emboridery at the bottom, and heavy embroidery at the bodice. The dupatta was a beautiful orange shade, and in the heat it reminded me of cold Fanta. Daniyal Uncle had special jewellery made for her, like any other parent does for their daughter(s). The necklace was long and heavy with a large diamond pendant hanging over her stomach, and the earrings were large and beautiful. Her hair was in a braid, with gajray weaved through it. She looked stunning, with the natural make-up enhancing her beauty. Ma Sha Allah.

Mama, who was with us, wore a long yellow dress with gold embroidery. Her dupatta was a mix of shades of orange and pink, with a plain orange shalwar. Like the other married women in the group, she wore gajray in her wrists. 

We met up with the ladies of the Sheikh family at the wedding hall, and we all greeted each other excitedly. 

Zoya Mumani wore a long orange kameez with a plain orange lehenga, and a magenta dupatta. The green bangles she wore highly complimented the dress, as well as the gold and emerald necklace. 

Nazia Mumani, basically the mother-ish of the groom, wore a deep green sharara (wide legged trousers), with a medium-length kameez, with modest gold embroidery over the neckline and golden sequins over the sharara itself.

"I feel sorry for the husbands." Iman joked, as we all gathered up in the bridal room. We had come here straight from the parlour, and the males hadn't seen us yet. First, the Nikah was going to be done. Omar Bhai's would be first as he was older. 

"I can't believe our little Omar is getting married, Ma Sha Allah." Mama smiled at Phupho.

Speaking of Phupho, our gorgeous aunt (Ma Sha Allah) wore a long yellow kameez with yellow chudidar, with a pink dupatta. All the besties had selected their outfits together, on a shopping trip that the husbands had been relieved to be allowed to skip. 

As we sat in the bridal room, Rabia got emotional as she began to miss the absence of her mother.

"Koi baat nahin, beta. Hum sab aapke saath hain na." Mama reassured her, running a hand over her head.

*"It's okay, dear. We're all with you." 

"You're coming to our home. We'll never let you feel the absence of a mother." Zoya Mumani added.

Nazia Mumani bent down to kiss Rabia on the forehead. "If you cry now over this, we'll get offended, okay?" She said in a teasing tone. "You don't want to offend your mothers-in-law on your Nikah, do you?" 

Rabia laughed and I leaned down and gave her a one-armed hug, squeezing her shoulders. "You'll be fine, dear Nand." I told her. "The Sheikh family is amazing, Ma Sha Allah." 

****

As expected, the husbands looked speechless as they saw us. We'd come out of the room to give Daniyal Uncle some time to talk to Rabia, and as Hamza was about to join them he stopped as he saw me. 

I briefly noticed cheeky Mani filming the mens' reactions. 

The fire in Hamza's eyes set lit up something inside me, and I clutched onto my dupatta, dropping my gaze. The men had all gone for plain white kameez shalwar and emerald green waistcoats. Ismael and Omar Bhai wore brown waistcoats, to stand out as the grooms.

"Ma Sha Allah!" Hamza whispered. "Allah bachalay meri pyari si biwi ko buri nazar se. Ameen."

*"May Allah protect my lovely wife from all evil eyes. Ameen."

"These earrings suit you." He stepped right up to me. "Whoever selected them has a good taste."

I rolled my eyes as he grinned. "So, how do I look?"

"Tareef karoon kya uski, jisne tujhe banaya..." He sang under his breath.

*This is a lyric from a song, "How do I compliment the one who created you..."

"Those who also created her are standing right here, so you might want to dial down a little." Iman had heard that, and of course she couldn't resist teasing. 

"Mani!" My cheeks felt like the fire from Hamza's eyes had shifted into them, and I lightly slapped my little sister on the arm.

"Waise perfect line gayai hai Hamza ne." Ahad Mamu winked at Zoya. "Allah is the Best of Artists, and you are an example of that, Zo."

*"Actually, Hamza has sang the perfect line." 

Oh my God, everyone heard Hamza's line!

"Ahad..." Zoya Mumani shook her head, but she was smiling. 

"Maybe us singles should slowly back out and leave." Iman continued her teasing. "Now that you're all distracted, Ibrahim and I can find ways to create chaos." 

"Iman!" As usual, our parents told her off in unison, but they both looked amused. 

"How does Mama look, Papa?" Iman raised an eyebrow.

"Can someone get tape to shut her up?" I asked nobody in particular.

"Just wait until Mr Iman comes along." Zoya Mumani lightly pulled Mani's ear. "Shararti bachi!"

*"Mischievous girl!"

"I can't wait to mess around with Mr Iman." Hamza laughed, causing everyone to laugh. 

"But, Bhai, you didn't answer our Mani's genuine question?" Phupho joined in the teasing. "Thodi si to apni usual tareef karlain hamari Jasmina Bhabi ki."

*"At least compliment Jasmina Bhabi a little, as usual."

"Is dafa Damad jo baazi mar gaya hai." Ahad Mamu chuckled.

*"This time his son-in-law has won."

"I think the mothers of the grooms should be complimented first." Mama smiled at Phupho and Nazia Mumani. 

Zafar Uncle glanced down at the floor, almost shyly. I still couldn't believe that Omar Bhai wasn't his biological son, because their behaviour was so similar, as well as their natures.

"Dulhan ki tarhan kyun sharma raha hai, Zaf?" Ahad Mamu teased his best friend.

*"Why are you blushing like a bride, Zaf?"

"Aap log bhi na! Zunaira aur uski family aane waali hai aur hum sab yahan hain..." Nazia Mumani's cheeks were also red.

*"You people are too much! Zunaira and her family will be here soon, and we all are here..." 

"Waise, tareef to banti hai." Arhaan Mamu said, in his usual quiet tone. "Bohat suit kiya hai yeh rang aap pe, Nazia. Ma Sha Allah. Shaadi main shirkat main kaise karoon, jab sirf aapko dekhne ka hi dil kar raha hai." 

*"Actually, a compliment is due."
"This colour suits you a lot, Nazia. Ma Sha Allah. How do I participate in the wedding, when I only feel like looking at you."

"Oye hoye!" Ahad Mamu and Mani said in unison, before high-fiving. God, those two were so similar!

"We can manage the wedding, if you want some time..." Papa teased his lifetime best friend. 

"Tu chup kar. Tera dil kar raha ho ga, aur daal mujh pe raha hai." Arhaan Mamu laughed.

*"You shut up. You must want that for yourself, and you're putting it on me..."

"Bhai!" Mama looked horrified as Iman laughed so hard that she doubled over. 

"Ya Allah, I should have recorded this whole conversation so far!" My sister gasped out when she could finally speak.

"I know how you feel though, Arhaan Bhai." Zafar Uncle added. "Meri bhi nazar baar baar unpe hi jaati hai. Unko dekh ke baar baar dil karta hai ke kaash hamari shaadi hoti aaj." 

*"My eyes keep going back to her again and again as well. Looking at her, I wish that it was our wedding today." 

Again, Ahad Mamu and Mani hooted. 

"This family is goals. Seriously." Hamza looked around at everyone. "Ma Sha Allah."

"And now, you're a part of this crazy bunch." Ahad Mamu said. "My sympathies to you, kid." 

"For Hania, everything is worth it." Hamza looked down at me and winked. 

"Aww, Ma Sha Allah!" Phupho said.

"Feeling extra single right now." Iman muttered, almost under her breath, and I was surprised to see a hint of sadness on her face. But as she noticed me watching her, she composed herself and smiled. "As if I would ever want to give up my freedom this early, Appi." 

"Your turn, Fawad Bhai." Ahad Mamu raised an eyebrow. "You don't want your Damad to win this, right?" 

"Ahad, what's wrong with you?" Arhaan Mamu asked, exasperated. "Why are you acting Iman's age?" 

"Because my soul is still young." Ahad Mamu had an instantaneous reply, causing us all to laugh again.

"I've already complimented her in private." Papa looked at Mama, teasingly. "When she sneaked away to meet me. The blush on her cheeks clearly show that I'm still great at complimenting her." Indeed, Mama couldn't look at anyone as her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

"When did you sneak out to meet him?" Iman gasped out. "I'm impressed, Mama meri jaan. Today, you've proved that you truly are my mother!" 

"Yeah because I needed any proof after literally giving birth to you." Mama looked at my sister.

"Wow, Mama. We didn't even realise when you went out to meet him." I said. "That's so romantic."

"Seekho apni Maa se kuch." Hamza teased me, while reaching up to tug a loose strand of my hair lightly. 

*"Learn something from your mother." 

"Am I that boring?" I asked him worriedly, making sure that nobody else had heard.

"Of course not, Han. But I can't tell them how you are behind our closed bedroom doors, can I? That's a secret that only I know about." He winked again.

I looked into his eyes, feeling immensely in love with him. Thank you, Allah. I initially questioned your decision for choosing Hamza for me, but now I know that it was a beautiful decision. I'm so happy. Alhumdulillah.

****

Fariha

Zunaira was not just an interior designer, but she had worked on her own dresses as well, apparently. She wore a pink lehenga with golden embroidery and multicoloured stitching. The blouse had sheer sleeves, and was the same shade of pink but was  relatively plainer. The dupatta was a shade between pink and peach, but the border was stunning: golden with the same multi-coloured patterns. It was a truly beautiful outfit. 

Once the Nikah was performed, and both brides were brought in, the expressions on the faces of the grooms was almost funny. 

"That's the bride?" Sadia's voice broke through my thoughts as I enjoyed the mehendi celebrations. 

Here we go.

"She's too skinny." Sadia continued talking to her sister, Noreen. Sadia had to be here, of course, but she had also invited her family. 

For a woman who was made to feel bad on her own wedding day because of her weight, she's being incredibly judgemental about another girl's figure. 

"I would appreciate if you don't body-shame my daughter-in-law." I spoke up, coldly. "She's perfect the way she is. Body-shaming a bride is an incredibly disgusting thing, as I'm sure you can understand." 

Ignoring her, I headed up to the stage, and my heart warmed up as I saw the genuine happiness on my Omar's face as he sat beside his now-wife. "Ma Sha Allah!" I dabbed mehendi over the betel leaves on their hands and fed them both mithai. "May Allah always keep you both happy. Ameen." I waved some notes over their heads and handed them to Zoya, who would eventually ensure that all the sadqah money would be donated to the needy.

It was a beautiful feeling to watch your children get married, even though it was also sad to see them all grown up. 

****

Arhaan

"Mubarak ho, Sasur Sahab!" Fawad, as usual, immediately started teasing me after the Nikah was complete.

*"Congratulations, father-in-law!"

"You became a father-in-law first!" I shot back. 

"Your hair has more grey in it!" He grinned.

"You're older than me, even if just by three months!" I crossed my arms over my chest, triumphantly.

"Your firstborn is older." 

"By a week."

"Well, you look older." 

"How old are you both?" Nazia teased us, overhearing our 'conversation'- or shall I say bachpana?

*Bachpana: childishness.

"Bhabi, he's in Asad Uncle's position now, so he should respect me, the only Damad of the family even more." Fawad told her, as if he was so masoom. 

*Masoom: innocent.

"Meri behan ke liye meri izzat aur badh gayi hai, jo tumhain bees saal se zayada bardasht kiya, Ma Sha Allah." I told him.

*"My respect for my sister has greatly increased, as she had tolerated you for over twenty years, Ma Sha Allah." 

"You have tolerated him much longer actually, Arhaan Bhai." Fariha joined us. "As have I." 

I laughed.

"I can't believe that these two are fathers-in-law." Nazia placed her hands on her hips, staring at me adoringly.

"Do you know that when they were kids, they were worse than the entire combination of Ahad, Iman and Ibrahim?" Fariha told her. "Don't go by their innocent acts. They're both just as bad. Ammi can testify that." 

"Dadi bangayi ho, Ma Sha Allah, wisdom nahin aayi." Fawad told her. "Fairy."

*"Ma Sha Allah, you're a grandmother, but you don't have that wisdom yet." 

"Don't call me that!" Fariha looked around, as if she was worried that someone had heard him.

"Anyway, congratulations on your son's Nikah, Fariha." I told her, smiling genuinely at the woman who had always been like my little sister to me.

"Congratulations to you too, Arhaan Bhai." She said. "Welcome to the Parents-In-Law gang." Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Ya Allah! No!" 

The rest of us glanced in the direction of her gaze, and everyone tensed up.

Saad had just entered the wedding hall, along with Umair. 

"Why did he bring him here?" Fariha looked distressed and in tears, as she pressed a hand over her forehead. 

With my ex and Fariha's ex both in the same hall, could things get any worse?

****

Because the weddings in my story aren't completed without drama. To be fair, even in real life, drama is almost mandatory at desi weddings. I've always seen it. :D

So Omar/Zunaira and Ismael/Rabia are Nikahfied! Congratulations to them! 

What does Laiba's return mean for Hania and her family?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!