Chapter 7
7
‘You took ages ,’ Kiran scowled. ‘They’re ten minutes away.’
‘I’m here and that’s all that matters,’ I responded tightly. ‘You know I hate being pestered –’
The doorbell rang.
Kiran went to get it. Mum had made it clear that the butlers were to back off for the day and that we needed to step in to cater to these special guests ourselves.
When I saw the first person enter, my mouth fell open a touch. This was definitely not what I’d expected. She was perhaps one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and her style was immaculate. She wore a sleeveless emerald-green kurta with intricate gold threadwork, and the jewels at her ears and neck matched it perfectly.
Her long brown hair was half-up and pulled back sleekly from her face to reveal small, round features. She didn’t seem to be wearing much make-up and certainly didn’t need it; her milky brown skin and green eyes possessed a mesmerizing quality.
Instantly, I could imagine her becoming a Malik.
Sana greeted Kiran warmly, then turned to me.
‘Hello, nice to finally meet you,’ she said in a posh American accent, making me blink. ‘I’m Sana.’ Well, I certainly didn’t have to worry about not being able to communicate with her …
She extended a hand towards me, which I shook. She had a confident grip and a kind smile.
‘This is Karim,’ Kiran told Sana.
‘Of course,’ she said through a laugh. ‘I’m not going to pretend I haven’t come across your videos. They’re great!’
‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
I greeted her parents and older brother and then we all made our way to the living room.
‘I love the décor,’ Sana said admiringly.
‘Ah yes,’ Mum said, looking pleased. ‘I had my interior designers infuse natural, contemporary elements with a vintage South Asian edge.’
I looked around the expansive room and imagined I was seeing it for the first time. It was minimalistic and modern with plenty of natural light, and the few decorative pieces scattered about were striking and intentional.
Sana’s parents were in the process of introducing their son when Azad appeared.
‘As-salaam-alaikum everyone,’ he said breathlessly, placing his briefcase near the sofa and smoothing a hand down his tie. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. My meeting ran over.’
‘It certainly looks like you rushed over as soon as you could,’ Mum said teasingly, and everyone laughed.
He looked down self-consciously, and I cringed a little. I’d never seen him so unsure of himself before – he usually carried the stoic grace and sophistication of our father. When he moved to hug Sana’s father, he nearly tripped over his own foot and flapped his arms on either side to regain his balance.
Kiran snorted loudly and I pressed a hand over my mouth to keep in my own raucous laughter.
‘Take it easy jaan,’ Mum said with a knowing smile. ‘Sana’s not going anywhere.’
Azad recovered quickly and met each member of the Qureshi family with a hug, excluding Sana, to whom he modestly gave an awkward wave, making everyone chuckle once again. It was like I’d entered one of the romantic Pakistani dramas that Mum liked to watch.
‘So, how’s the product launch going, Sana beti?’ Dad asked while Azad seated himself at his right.
‘It’s great,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘My new lipstick collection was released just last month, and it’s been a busy time with advertising and orders.’
As the conversation continued, I learned that Sana had studied accounting and finance at Lahore University of Management Sciences and set up her own beauty brand, named Sana Beauty, soon after. She had a social media ecosystem which boasted just under two million followers. Although that had nothing on the thirty million or so followers The Exes had on each platform, I knew the effort that went into building a brand online and I was rather impressed.
Sana Beauty products were currently among the bestselling make-up in Pakistan and had made her a millionaire in her own right, separate from her family’s wealth, which was also significant. Sana’s father was the owner of the Quresh Hotel Group, which had chains throughout Dubai and America as well as Pakistan.
Azad was helping Dad run the Malik Group and doing incredibly well at it. Together, Azad and Sana would be a real power couple. This wasn’t going to be the imbalanced relationship I’d been imagining, where Azad would marry a shy, traditional girl with a completely different lifestyle and mindset. They suited each other, and in the way they kept exchanging glances, I could sense the chemistry between them.
I was happy for him.
But I also felt a strange emptiness settle inside me.
Although I’d had a handful of flings in the past, my only real relationship had been with Chloe. We’d dated on and off for years, but things had only become more toxic over time because we never seemed to be able to communicate well, which only increased our frustration and arguments.
In comparison, this relationship just seemed so wholesome, genuine, right.
I wanted to know what it was like to experience such a thing, to be with someone who understood me.
I’d always assumed that arranged-marriage introductions or dating girls from my own background wouldn’t suit me, but clearly I’d made inexperienced assumptions. I could sense my mind shifting in this regard, realizing that maybe dating a girl who shared my culture was exactly the key to finding someone who understood me …
‘When I was growing up in Lahore,’ Mum said, with a hand on Sana’s mother’s lap, ‘Rahima was my best friend. We lived in the same area and went to the same school.’
‘Then Fouzia moved to the UK for university,’ Aunty Rahima continued in a strong Pakistani accent, ‘met your dad, got married and forgot all about me.’
They both threw their heads back and laughed loudly. I fake-laughed politely with them, as did Kiran.
‘We were still in touch here and there, especially on Facebook,’ Mum said mischievously. ‘And then, last summer, Azad and I went to Pakistan to prepare for the launch of my new collection. One day, we were out browsing in Emporium Mall when we bumped into Rahima and Sana. The rest is history.’
‘Who knew our children would one day change our relationship from friendship to family?’ Aunty Rahima pondered fondly. ‘Subhanallah.’
Mum nodded heartily. ‘And who knew that exactly a year from that first meeting we’d be planning their wedding?’
Sana looked down at her hands and for the first time I saw the hint of a shy, traditional Pakistani girl surrounded by people discussing her marriage.
‘Not long to go now,’ Aunty Rahima said keenly, and then turned towards her husband. ‘To my surprise, Abdullah is pleased that the mehndi, baraat and walima functions will all be held here in London.’
Uncle Abdullah smiled and his thick moustache, which closely resembled his son’s, curled upwards. ‘We have so much family and far too many friends in Pakistan,’ he explained. ‘It would’ve been impossible to organize a wedding of less than a thousand people.’
Mum lifted her nose a fraction. ‘We also have many people we could invite, but we don’t let just anyone attend our events. We like to keep them exclusive .’
Aunty Rahima opened her mouth as though to say something but then decided against it.
It was a part of our culture to throw big weddings – all my cousins had done so in the past. It was a way of showing your status, how well connected and wealthy you were, and I could tell the pettiness among the elders was already beginning.
‘Since time is of the essence, I’ve started getting things in order,’ Mum said to Sana. ‘As you know, I’ve arranged for the food tasting to take place now. Tomorrow, I’ve booked you in at my flagship store in Regent Street, so you can browse the bridal collections. Once you’ve chosen your outfits, we can visit the jewellers.’
Sana paused for a moment. ‘I’ve already had some bridal outfits made in Lahore. I’ve also booked appointments with some bridal boutiques around Mayfair and Ilford Lane for later this week.’
Mum jerked as though she’d been slapped.
While some of the most influential people in the country had to go on the waiting list to visit the Fouzia Faris store, her future daughter-in-law was insisting on looking elsewhere …
I found myself praying Mum wouldn’t break out into a dramatic tantrum or say something hurtful to Sana in response. I had a vivid image of her snatching a bunch of bridal gowns from Sana’s reluctant grip, setting them on fire and shouting, I’m doing you a favour!
Mum and Kiran exchanged a look.
The look.
This was something they’d discuss between themselves later.
‘Well, I’m always here to help if you need anything,’ Mum said coldly, choosing to reel it in for once.
I let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Aunty Rahima fidgeted uncomfortably, and Dad’s brows were a little too high.
‘I’ll check how the wedding caterers are getting on with setting up,’ Kiran interjected awkwardly as she stood. ‘They should be ready for us soon.’
‘Of course, Kiran darling,’ Mum said loudly, then pinned her gaze on Sana. ‘As you can see, we like to arrange things collectively as a family over here.’
The first dig at her future daughter-in-law.
I’d been waiting for it.
And so the battle began.
Round one to Mum.
I glanced in Sana’s direction. Her lips were pursed. She certainly wouldn’t forget the comment anytime soon. I could already see a response sizzling inside her.