Chapter 42
42
Late November brought with it an abundance of excitement and nerves. Catering for the Malik wedding was the biggest opportunity Jashan had ever secured and we were all hopeful that it would go so well that it’d be the first of many big successes for the business.
‘I can’t believe the mehndi is today,’ Morowa said tensely as we drove to the event in their van.
‘To be fair, it was a fairly short-notice wedding,’ Farhan bhai replied. ‘I’m just glad we’re prepared. Inshallah it’ll be great.’
‘Oh yeah, it was super short notice,’ I chipped in. ‘Karim was telling me about how crazy it drove his family to try and arrange everything in time.’
Farhan bhai looked at me sideways from the driver’s seat. ‘You’ve been speaking to Karim Malik quite a bit then, have you?’
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘I guess we’ve become friends.’
‘That’s just one more perk of this job, isn’t it? A hot, famous new friend.’ Morowa giggled. I couldn’t help but join her.
‘Just friends, right?’ Farhan bhai enquired in a sharp tone.
It was a reminder for me to keep a respectful distance from boys, to remember the boundaries I was expected to maintain. Although he was just showing some brotherly protectiveness, I felt my cheeks grow hot.
Karim and I spoke on the phone for hours every night, and we found every opportunity to see each other, especially on weekends, even if all we did was go for a drive and catch up in his car. He was definitely touching me for longer – still innocent touches at my back, my face, my neck, but they felt so good I barely suppressed the urge to ask for more. I kept wondering the same thing: how could it be wrong when it felt so right ?
And he was becoming more open and vulnerable with me now, sharing pieces of his mind with me that left me feeling as though I knew his soul intimately. Since Mr Ex’s Islamophobic post, he’d experienced a wave of hate online and I’d tried my best to be there for him, to listen to his fears and worries, and to soothe them away in whatever way I could.
He often felt lonely and misunderstood. As did I. Something undeniable connected us. I’d started confiding in him too, sharing snippets of my struggles at home, because he was a constant presence in my life, dependable in a way that others weren’t.
Imran was infuriatingly on and off whenever we spoke. The first thing that came to my mind when he read my messages but didn’t bother to respond was that he was either speaking to other girls or bragging to his mates about how close he’d come to kissing the goody-two-shoes Zara Khan in his own bedroom.
I hated how insecure he made me feel.
When we did talk, it was amazing. And when we didn’t, it was devastating.
My emotions with him were too overwhelming, a roller-coaster ride I just wanted to get off.
If my first kiss had been with him, I would’ve hated myself right now; I’d have felt like I’d given up something precious to someone who simply didn’t value it. I was so grateful he’d stopped when he had, and I’d decided I would never let him get so close to me again.
Things with Karim, on the other hand, were stable and progressing in a way that felt natural. Incredible.
‘Of course, Farhan bhai,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘Just friends.’
Morowa began discussing details of the catering with my brother, and I was glad about the diversion. I pulled down the sun visor and began judging my appearance in the mirror.
Karim had officially invited me to the wedding, and so I was going both as part of the catering entourage and as a guest, and I’d certainly dressed up for the occasion. When I’d informed Farhan bhai that I wouldn’t be wearing the black and white Jashan uniform, he’d been a little hesitant at first, stating that I should’ve maintained a professional distance from our clients, but he’d come around.
Instead, I was wearing one of Aisha baji’s old outfits: a lightly bejewelled beige Anarkali suit with pearl buttons down the centre. I still remembered the way Aisha had looked when she’d worn it on Eid many years ago – her smile infectious, her long black hair flying as she ran in the garden, raising her dupatta above her head. That same dupatta was now pinned to my shoulder, and I loved the way it made me feel connected to her, even as my heart felt heavy because she was never that happy or carefree now.
I’d done a soft make-up look that was characteristic of traditional mehndi glam: my skin was glowing, bronze-gold eyeshadow swept across my lids, and I’d chosen a rosy-pink lipstick. My hair was out in loose waves and peeking through were the dangly gold-and-pearl earrings I’d borrowed from Sal, the only jewellery I was wearing.
When we arrived at the Natural History Museum and parked up, I looked at Morowa and grinned.
‘What an iconic venue for a wedding!’ I beamed.
‘It’s a Malik wedding,’ she replied. ‘ Everything ’s going to be iconic.’
As we were about to enter, Farhan bhai said to me, ‘Since you look like a guest, I think you should just sit with your friends. But do keep an eye on the dessert service and let us know if everything is going smoothly.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Morowa said firmly, squeezing my hand. ‘Have fun tonight. We’re all going to live vicariously through you while we work.’
They left to join the rest of the catering team and I approached the entrance tentatively, knowing I was quite early for a guest.
‘Zara, you’re here!’
Kiran walked towards me with arms outstretched. Karim was at her side.
They looked breathtaking.
Kiran wore a voluminous bright yellow lehenga with a sleeveless, cropped choli. Her hair was slicked back in a low bun wrapped with a gajra. Karim was in a sage-green and gold sherwani, with a gold resham scarf hanging loosely around his neck.
They deserved to be on the cover of Asiana Wedding magazine.
‘You guys look amazing!’ I enthused, hugging Kiran. ‘I’m not too early, am I?’
‘You look gorgeous, babe. Other guests will be arriving soon,’ Kiran replied, already sauntering off to see to a task. ‘I hope you’ve got your dancing shoes on today!’
Karim gave me a mischievous smile. ‘You’re going to see me do a dozen dance routines today. I learned the choreography for all of them in the past week, so no judgement if I mess up.’
‘You’re going to be great. I can’t wait!’
‘By the way, you are dancing tonight. I’ll come and grab you myself if I have to.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ I warned, punching his arm.
He came closer to me and trailed his thumb softly down my cheekbone. ‘You look amazing, Zara. I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus on anything when you’re here looking like this.’
I blushed, then ran a hand from his shoulder down to his chest, stopping at his heart, enjoying the feel of the smooth threadwork under my fingers. ‘I love this look on you. You should definitely rock it more often.’
‘If this is what you’re into, you better not be surprised if I turn up to our next date in something like this.’
I giggled and he ran his fingers through the silken fabric of my dupatta. ‘And I’d really like for you to wear something like this for me in the future.’
Karim’s eyes darkened in a way that suggested it would be only for him, that we’d be alone, and I wouldn’t be wearing it for long at all. I swallowed, every part of me thrumming with exhilaration.
He took hold of my hand and led me into the main entrance.
The Victorian architecture and Romanesque arches of the Hintze Hall were as glorious as ever, as was the blue whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling, but other aspects of the space had transformed it into a marker of South Asian heritage. Lamps and candles, multicoloured flower arrangements and umbrellas, vibrant garlands and drapes.
The grand staircase led directly to an ornately decorated floral stage; there was a large dance floor surrounded by mehndi trays bearing henna cones and sweets; and a purple iridescent glow adorned the hall, creating an aura of opulence and otherworldliness.
‘It’s stunning,’ I breathed.
Karim began introducing me to his family and friends. It felt so easy to bond with them over our excitement for the event. I didn’t feel like an introvert at all. This was the first time I’d hung out with a large group of people and still felt seen, heard, respected.
It was strange to me – the fact that I could feel so invisible in my own world and yet here, surrounded by such wealthy influencers, upper-class society folk and complete strangers, I could feel so … accepted, so myself.