•| EIGHT |•
“Samira, just get ready. We’re going to get your wedding dress,” your mom’s voice echoed from outside your room—excited, hurried, almost glowing with enthusiasm that you wished you could mirror.
You stood in front of the mirror, fingers lightly gripping the edge of your dupatta.
“I’m… ready,” you replied, though your voice came out softer than intended.
Your mom peeked inside for a second, giving you a quick approving glance before disappearing again down the hallway, already busy with a dozen preparations in her mind.
You turned back to the mirror slowly.
The girl staring back at you looked beautiful—neatly dressed, hair done, light kajal lining her eyes—but the nervousness sitting behind those eyes was impossible to hide.
Wedding dress.
The words still felt unreal.
Just a few nights ago you were worrying about exams… assignments… part-time shifts…
And now—
You were stepping out to buy your bridal outfit.
You inhaled slowly, trying to steady your thoughts before stepping out of your room.
In the living room, your mom was packing a handbag—checking her phone, adjusting her saree, making sure she carried everything necessary as if this was the most important outing of her life.
You watched her for a moment before speaking.
“Aren’t they going to pick us?” you asked hesitantly.
She looked up briefly, then shook her head.
“No… Mrs. Mehra had some problem,” she explained while zipping her purse. “So she told us to come there by ourselves. We’ll meet them directly at the showroom.”
You nodded slowly.
“Oh… okay.”
You still didn’t know anything about him—except that he was rich… successful… and much older than you.
You wondered what he looked like.
What kind of person he was.
Strict? Gentle? Arrogant? Calm?
Would he even talk to you properly?
You quickly shook your head, brushing the thoughts away.
“It’ll be fine,” you whispered to yourself more than anyone else.
“Come, we’re getting late,” your mom said, picking up her purse and heading toward the door.
You slipped into your sandals and followed your mother outside.
Soon your car pulled into the large parking area of the shopping mall, the tall glass building reflecting the afternoon sun so brightly that you had to squint your eyes for a moment.
Your heart started beating a little faster.
This wasn’t just shopping anymore.
This was bridal shopping.
Walking beside your parents, you entered the mall, the cool air conditioning brushing against your skin as the noise of people, footsteps, and music filled your ears. Your mom walked ahead with visible excitement, while you followed quietly, taking in everything around you.
As you reached the bridal boutique Mrs. Mehra had mentioned—
Your steps suddenly slowed.
Standing near the entrance, speaking to a saleswoman, was the same elegant lady you had met on the roadside…
The same woman whose grandson you had saved.
Your brows furrowed slightly.
“Huh… isn’t she the kid’s grandmother?” you murmured under your breath. “What is she doing here…?”
Then suddenly—
Your brain connected the dots.
Your eyes widened.
Your hand flew to your forehead lightly.
“So… she wants me to be her daughter-in-law,” you whispered to yourself, stunned at your own late realization.
Before you could process further—
Thud.
Your mom’s elbow nudged your stomach sharply.
“Ouch—”
“Why are you daydreaming, huh?” she whispered scoldingly. “Go greet her.”
Before you could protest, she gently pushed you forward.
You straightened immediately, walking toward Mrs. Mehra with slightly nervous steps.
As you reached her, you bowed respectfully.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
The moment the word left your mouth—
She turned, recognized you instantly, and her face lit up with warmth.
“Oh my dear!” she exclaimed.
Before you could react—
She pulled you into a sudden hug.
You froze for a second, surprised by the affection.
“Not ma’am,” she said lovingly, cupping your face once she pulled back. “I’m your mom.”
A shy smile crept onto your lips, your cheeks warming at her words.
Your mother stepped forward then, greeting her politely.
“Mrs. Mehra… where’s your son?” she asked, glancing around curiously.
You subconsciously looked around too—
A strange anticipation flickering in your chest.
But Mrs. Mehra sighed lightly.
“That’s the problem,” she said, shaking her head. “He got some urgent work, so he couldn’t come.”
A tiny, unexplainable disappointment brushed past you… though you didn’t know why.
“It’s okay,” she added quickly with a smile. “We’ll manage. Come, let’s go inside.”
All of you entered the boutique together.
The shop was grand—rows of heavily embroidered lehengas, anarkalis, sarees shimmering under golden lights. Mirrors everywhere reflected fabrics of red, maroon, gold, and pastel shades.
You felt slightly overwhelmed.
Within minutes, the saleswoman began pulling out dress after dress.
“Bridal red is trending.”
“This maroon velvet is exclusive.”
“This pastel lehenga is designer piece.”
Each one heavier… grander… more expensive than anything you had ever worn.
Two hours passed.
You had tried multiple outfits already—
Red… wine… peach… gold…
But nothing felt like you.
You stood near the mirror, exhausted, while the seller woman looked equally frustrated now.
“Ma’am please try this one,” she insisted, holding up another heavily embroidered dress. “This is our best piece.”
You blinked tiredly.
“O…okay.”
You took the dress carefully and walked toward the trial room.
As the curtain closed behind you, you exhaled deeply, finally alone for a moment.
Outside—
Mrs. Mehra and your mother watched the trial room door.
“Mrs. Nair,” Mrs. Mehra said gently, “let her try peacefully. We’ll go see some other options meanwhile.”
“Yes, yes of course,” your mom agreed.
Both of them walked toward another section of the boutique, already discussing colors, jewelry, and wedding themes like excited planners.
Inside the trial room—
You carefully unfolded the dress.
It was beautiful… undeniably beautiful…
But as you held it against yourself—
Your mind wandered again.
To a face you hadn’t even seen properly yet—
Your would-be husband.
You sighed softly.
“Life is changing too fast,” you whispered to your reflection…