"I'm normally not a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me Superman."- Homer Simpson

The weekend following Ali-Adiba's Nikah was fixed as the Valima (Wedding reception given by the Guy's family), as such, there wasn't much left to do to prepare for the ceremony. Ali had steadfastly refused to let Dad pay for the party, which made Mom and Dad both exasperated yet proud. I had bugged my brother to arrange a beach party for the event. It was slightly unorthodox for usual Pakistani wedding venues; rented Marriage Lawns, and Hotels/Clubs. I was in love with the beach, and everything to do with it, so naturally this was my first choice. It was so much fun arranging a quickie, intimate party at a private beach strip. I had asked one of my art school friends to do the event planning, he had even given us a "Discount" with his event managing business.

Adiba had decided to do her make-up herself, despite my Mom's protests. "Adiba Beta, dulhan, ko dulhan lagna chahye!" (Adiba child, a bride should look like a bride!) Adiba had cited the overly expensive salon make-over prices as "Unnecessary waste of money". She had even made up imaginary makeup allergies to deter Mom from her quest. I had decided not to intervene in this argument at all. Privately, I thought Salon Ladies were minions from un-feministic portions of hell; their hair pins, and wax-strips alone were enough to instill the fear of God in most self-respecting women, so I obviously (secretly) supported Adiba's decision. She had an amazing make-up sense, and I always loved her subtle choice of shades. She managed to look good without going crazy with her natural look. With her Tea-Pink traditional Gharara, I knew she'd end up looking gorgeous, with or without professional make-over help.

Ali had insisted on buying me a ridiculously costly designer gown for the day. I felt slightly overdressed for a beach party in the intricately gold threaded cream-colored flowy confection. My hair was knotted into a loose chignon at my nape, and I had chosen suitable, neutral shades of make-up to go with my dress. Mom beamed her approval at my appearance, and repeatedly made a million teary-eyed wishes for my future life. I was slightly surprised at her emotional reaction, but I chalked it up to Ali's wedding. Something about marriage makes people cry. Weird.

Dad and Mom join me in the TV room, to wait for the Bride and groom to descend from their room. We had decided to leave together for the beach. While we waited, I.saw my parents having a silent conversation, that only they could understand. I saw Ma glare at Dad twice, as she subtly jerked her head towards me. I narrow my eyes as Dad frowns back at Ma, and gently shakes his head.

"What are you guys talking about? I can't hear over all this noise?" I dryly quip, making both of them stare guiltily at the floor. Mom takes a deep breath and utters a quick prayer to the almighty. I'm curious now.

"Mina, beta. Do you love us?" She begins, with her typical Asian Mom blackmail monologue. EMV perks up, 'Better think twice about admitting to this particular love. She is angling for something big here!'

"Umm, Yeah Ma, of course I do." I say carefully. Dad discreetly wipes his forehead. Why are they so wary of me?

"Do you trust our judgement for your future?" Ma asks quietly. "I know that after Aree-, your previous relationship, you might not trust us to make any other decision for your lif-"

"MA! Stop, please. Don't ever say that Areeb was your fault. None of us could have expected him to do what he did. Whatever happened, surely saved me from future troubles. You, are not to blame for any of that! Don't ever think that I trust you any less now..." A couple of tears escape my eyes at seeing my parents' hesitation. They are doubting 23-years worth of excellent parenting, because of one wrong person. It is eating away at me. They shouldn't be blamed for my insufficiency. I was the one who was not enough for my fiance. I was the one who never really knew someone I grew up with. It was all me, and my fate.

Mom got up from her seat to gently wipe away my tears. Simba pounced on my lap from his perch on the coffee table, and purred closer to my hands. My cat just knew whenever I needed his comfort. I petted his fur, as I blubbered for a while. Mom didn't even shoo Simba away from my delicate dress, as I expected her to. It took me a while to return to normal.

"Beta, We, recently received a proposal for your hand. I know that it is too soon, after your last relationship, but you must know that your Dad and I would never push this on you unless we thought that this particular...boy...was perfect for you."

I suddenly find myself short of breath. I don't want to let anyone know about my trepidation regarding marriage, least of all my parents. I have worried them enough for a lifetime. So while my insides are screaming "NO FREAKING WAY!" I manage to school my expression into a neutral one. My treacherous heart is running a mile-a-minute.

"We will never force you into a relationship you're not ready to commit to. But our instincts are saying that this boy is the best partner Allah could have chosen for you. It also helps, that you're closely familiar with him...."

My mind starts reeling like crazy. I know him? Faces of every weirdo cousin, and childhood friend I know, flashes before my eyes. Who....?

"...Your Dad has reservations about his living situations, but I pray that wherever Allah decides your fate, may you be blessed there. After all, the States is a better off option than Pakistan at the moment..."

No way. He wouldn't. I think I'm having a mini nervous breakdown. Surely HE wouldn't do this to me now? Doesn't he know what I'm going through? Isn't he supposed to be my superhero? Simba yowls in protest when I squeeze his tiny body too hard, I numbly let go of him.

"Who is it Ma?" I whisper. Mom and Dad glance anxiously at each other, before Dad coughs softly.

"Beta, Shehzer's mother formally proposed to us via phone. She cannot visit us in person, as she recently traveled here, but she assured us that Shehzer is eager to formalize your relationship. Soon. We have spoken to him as well, and we find him extremely suitable for you. Do you trust our judgement regarding this matter?"

Why am I not too surprised at his thoughtlessness? He slowly insinuated his way into my heart, into my life, until I started to trust him. But what did he do? He went behind my back, and put me in an uncomfortable situation I cannot escape. There's no way I will ever disregard my parents' ardent wishes. Was he aware of that too? That manipulative gorgeous Jerk. He bought me over with quotes and overweight cats! and I fell for it...just like catching Ali with cheesecake. Idiot Mina!

"Mina. You don't have to say yes. We can always reject the proposal. However, you must know that your Ma and I are immensely satisfied and happy at this possible marriage. We have done Istikhara (Prayer for Allah's guidance regarding difficult decisions) for this one, and both of us are at peace. However, I encourage you to offer prayers yourself, before accepting." Dad draws his speech out with a gentle pat to my head. "Shehzer might be joining us at the Valima, if his schedule allows it, and I want you both to settle this together soon. Whether the answer is yes, or no."

How on earth can I say no to this? They are happy, and more blissful at this proposal than they ever were with Areeb. I can just feel the difference. This is so unfair! I am irrationally angry at Shehzer, I am done being meek, hurt and betrayed by ridiculously attractive men in my life. I will not go down without a fight. If he wants me anywhere near a Nikah-naama, he has to prove that he is worth it. He has to prove that I am worth it.

............

I managed to enjoy the Valima, despite the constant marital sword hanging over my head. Shehzer's possible arrival made me uncertain and anxious. How can I be angry at him, as he deserves, in front of an audience?

I smiled plastic, while playing the hostess role. The venue looked breathtaking against the late sunset of the beach, the Karachi shore-line could be mesmerizing on occasions. I could smell the live barbecue we had arranged; the curious mix of coals and spice mixing with the earthy, salty beach air. Adiba and Ali eschewed any stage area for the party, and simply walked around hand-in-hand, thanking guests, and chatting up acquaintances. Both of them were so obviously smitten with each other, they were in their own little universe. My brother looked dapper in his smart penguin suit, and Adiba looked adorably petite next to his tall frame, her hair and makeup was flawless, despite Mom's reservations. A couple of hours into the party, Shehzer still hadn't arrived; I kept repeating to myself that it was better if he didn't show up today.

I managed to avoid most annoying busy-body Aunties, but one of them was deadly persistent. Apparently, her son was an up-and-coming "Manager" at a Multi-National firm, and she was hunting for a Rishta (proposal) for him. Usually weddings are the designated hunting ground of predators like her, and I could see her stalking several of my female cousins, before she settled her cap for me and accosted me during dinner. I tried to be evasively polite, but some people just don't realize when they should stop speaking!!

"My son's salary is more than 3 Lac Rupees." She loudly announced for my benefit, cunning kohl-rimmed eyes sweeping me from head-to-toe. EMV is in full bitch mode; 'Pity all that money cannot buy you class. Or IQ points.'

"Mashaallah." I mutter politely, trying not to pull a face at her.

"He just got a Honda Accord from his office recently..."

EMV bites; 'Why don't you sit in it and drive it?. . .straight into the ocean!'

"Mmmhmm.." I hum back.

"My son graduated just last year from LUMS....Where did you go to university?"

When she hears about my art school degree, she tuts disappointingly."Arts? didn't you get in anywhere else dear? such a waste of money these pricey art schools are! what's the future of art in this country I ask you?...None!" I refrain from pointing out that the purpose of education shouldn't be just to earn money, I doubt it will make sense to her capitalist-driven mindset.

EMV cracks her knuckles; 'Oh no she di-int! Game is ON!'

"...I heard that you're doing a job somewhere? My son doesn't want his wife to work of course, women should spend their energies at home..."

I grit my teeth against saying something rude. Must. Not. React.

"...Can you handle yourself in the Kitchen? Most career girls are reluctant to set foot inside the place, how on earth are they going to take care of their husbands I ask you?..."

Lord give me strength to survive this anti-feminist steam-roller! SHE JUST WON'T STOP!

I keep nodding mechanically as the mother-in-law from hell harps on about her son. As far as she is concerned, the sun rises and sets on his Senior-EXECUTIVE-Manager ass. 'Can you die already? Please?' EMV begs on her knees.

"...It's a good thing you're slender, My son hates fat girls! Why can't girls nowadays maintain their bodies for their prospective spouses?...Do you use fairness creams? I quite like your skin tone...My son looks like Fawad Khan..."

I snort into involuntary laughter at this latest statement, and she glares suspiciously at me.

"I think you should meet him, because you sound like you don't believe me."

Oh HELL NO! I try putting her off, but she has a vice-like grip on my arm, as she drags me towards a group of suited men chatting over dessert plates.

She singles out a short skinny guy for my inspection.

"This is my son Bilal!..Bilal this is Amin's daughter, Mina..." She not-so-subtly nudges him in my direction. I feel like a sacrificial goat on Eid-Ul-Azha , as he nods curiously at me.

I gape at the thoroughly ordinary guy in front of me. Fawad Khan? MY ASS!

EMV is dying with suppressed sobs; 'HOW CAN SHE DO THIS TO FAWAD? Evil WITCH!'

He smiles politely up at me. UP, because I tower over him in my heels. He seems decent enough, if he could muzzle his mother for the rest of his married life, maybe some desperate girl might just accept him.

I have to escape this scrutiny! both mother and son, are making me extremely nervous with their creepy smiles, and probing questions. How to escape HOW?

I end up blurting out; "How do you feel about tattoos?"

They gape at my body, horrified, as if I am hiding some serious ink under my gold sheath dress. Good. I smile inwardly.

"Uh..I-Uh...tattoos are...a bit much no?" The guy clears his throat nervously.

I wave my hand airily; "Oh, but most art people are getting tattoos nowadays...Of course they are also into hard-core drugs, Marijuana, Meth, Roofies.....HEY! you're a business grad no? How do you feel about legalizing the drug industry?"

They are staring open-mouthed at me, as if I just confessed to Benazir Bhutto's murder. I smile back innocently, trying not to giggle at my plan.

Mother Hen finally decides to fly in protectively over her precious chick. She actually stands to move in front of him, probably to protect him from my evil depravity. Her narrow-eyed glare fans my face; "You girl, should learn to curb your thoughts! you might just find yourself single and alone for the rest of your life! Nobody in our culture wants such a free-thinking bride! You-"

I have reached a boiling point at this level; so I feel no shame in out-rightly lying,

"I am already engaged to someone thank you every much! but either way, I'd rather die alone and single, than marry your version of Fawad Khan!" I smile apologetically at the guy; "No offense dude, but your Mom needs to get her eye-sight checked."

"LIAR! You are not engaged! I just came to know about your break-up. Apparently, good looks aren't enough to keep a fiance, Hmph! I can see why he left you. Who would marry someone with a tongue like yours?" She hisses back at me.

Just as I could fully comprehend the hurt, and hypo-criticism laced in her words, I sensed someone come up behind me. I recognized his delicious, clean cologne/after-shave scent before his arm came to rest possessively on my shoulder. He was pissed off. I gulped at his angry expression, momentarily forgetting to be embarrassed about being caught in a lie. Even in my heels, I feel dwarfed next to him. The warmth of his closeness is playing havoc on my nerves.

"I would marry her. In fact I AM marrying her." He gently squeezed my shoulder in warning, as I opened my mouth to protest his statement. "I'm Shehzer. Mina's fiance. Is there a problem here?"

I am not sure who looks more stunned, me or Psuedo-Fawad and his mother. I vaguely register their embarrassed apologies; this is too surreal for me. It takes a full minute for me to come to my senses. I shrug off his arm, and grit back to him; "What do you think you're doing?" I glare up at him.

He throws me a devastating half-smile. 'DON'T MELT NOW MINA! BE STRONG!!' I give myself a mental pep-talk.

"Saving you of course...again. So, how have you been?...Fiancee?" he winks.

EMV sighs at this, throwing up her hands in defeat; 'You walked straight into this one sister.' Ugh. did I mention, I hate it when she's right?

A/N:

Hiya! :D

It took me quite a while to get done with this one. Exams have started and we're facing a brief hiatus here. I'm loving the support you guys have shown this book. Currently, it is ranking at #7 in it's category, which is HUGE for me.

So, please Do keep voting and commenting, if you like what you read!

Photo in description: Adiba and Mina's Valima dresses.