Chapter 9
9
‘Have you planned much else for the wedding then?’ Mum asked stiffly.
‘Not yet,’ Sana answered. ‘I’m just in the process of hiring a London wedding planner.’
It was an obvious message to Mum to back off. Clearly Sana would prefer to arrange her wedding according to her own tastes, with no interference.
‘Hmm,’ was all Mum said.
An awkward silence ensued.
It was becoming abundantly clear that Sana wasn’t going to be a traditional Pakistani daughter-in-law. She would not be busying herself with people-pleasing, allowing others to take control of her life or placing the desires of her in-laws above her own. She was an independent, successful woman, and she would not be moulded into anything else just because she was getting married.
This quality was exactly what I’d want to see in the woman I married in the future – my family could be a lot , with their opinions and assertiveness, and it was important to stand your ground in their company. Ironically enough, showing us Maliks you weren’t always going to do things as we demanded was crucial to gaining our respect.
I wondered whether Sana’s response would have been deemed strange if she’d been raised here in London, and I didn’t think so. Mum had assumed certain things about Sana because of her upbringing in their motherland. But we all knew that if Sana was to survive in this world, in our world – with all its cameras and crowds and criticisms – she had to have a backbone, and she’d just shown that she did.
Kiran walked in and nodded at Dad, who stood up eagerly to announce, ‘The caterers are ready for us. Shall we?’
Dad led the way into the ballroom and, as soon as I took in the delicious aroma, my appetite came back in full measure.
After browsing and sampling for two hours, we’d chosen most of the wedding menu.
For starters, we’d gone with tandoori chicken tikka, masala prawns and aloo chaat. For mains, it was Hyderabadi biryani, Lahori lamb karahi, butter chicken and matar paneer korma. Accompanying these dishes were freshly baked butter and garlic naans, mint chutney, green chilli achaar and cucumber yogurt raita. We only had desserts and drinks left to choose.
While everyone was busy tasting more finger foods, Kiran leaned over and whispered, ‘What do you think of Sana?’
‘Perfect for Azad. What do you think?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I like her. I just don’t know her yet. Azad certainly seems infatuated though.’
‘Mum’s not going to like her favourite child’s attention being so wrapped up elsewhere,’ I said. ‘Hate to say it, but I think there’ll be a stereotypical mother and daughter-in-law scuffle.’
Kiran made a face. ‘I’m so not ready for that.’
‘I wasn’t expecting the American accent. Did they used to live there?’
‘No, she went to an American school in Pakistan.’
I glanced across the stand and caught Sana’s brother staring at Kiran for what seemed like the tenth time, and I found myself imagining what he’d look like with neater brows and no moustache.
Not too shabby, I realized.
He’d lost quite a lot of weight compared with how he’d looked in the old photo Kiran had shown me earlier and it had given his face a nice structure. Uncle Abdullah had explained that Adil was twenty-seven, three years older than Sana. He lived in New York and managed the American chains of the Quresh Hotel Group.
The moment Adil realized I’d caught him ogling my sister, he looked away flustered, tilting his plate of kebabs so that some mint chutney slipped on to his shirt in the process.
I turned back to Kiran with a grin. ‘Have you noticed Adil eyeing you up?’
‘Multiple times. What a creep!’
‘If he worked on his style a bit, I could see him being your type. Perhaps he just needs to pay a visit to my barber over in Westminster. That guy works wonders.’
Kiran pinched me in the side, making me yelp. ‘Perhaps he needs a full body wax, but what is it to me?’
‘It seems he’s already half in love with you, darling sister.’
‘He’s not my type, OK? He looks like something shipped straight from Shaadi dot com. And since when did you become a rishta aunty? I’m getting enough pressure from the elders. I don’t need you joining in.’
‘Just helping you keep your options open.’
Kiran huffed. ‘Let’s teach him a little lesson about staring, shall we?’
She looked right at Adil as she slowly, sensually took a bite of her seekh kebab and then licked the chutney from her lips. Adil’s eyes widened a fraction and he turned to his parents, almost as though he was afraid they’d caught him doing something inappropriate.
I nearly choked on the samosa I was eating.
There was no way Adil would be able to handle her.
‘What an amateur,’ she murmured in a bored tone, but I saw Adil already sneaking glances at her again.
My blazer pocket buzzed. I pulled out my phone to see a text popping up from Abeo.
I have an inkling about who Mr Ex could be. When can I see you?
I immediately put down my plate and made to leave.
‘What is it?’ Kiran asked. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ll be back soon,’ I replied absent-mindedly.
‘How do you always manage to get out of everything?’ she called after me. ‘It’s so unfair.’