After he left sana came. I was lost in thought, still reeling from the news Sana had just dropped on me.
“Your family is coming,” she had said, her words echoing in my mind like a death sentence.
I was surprised, but not in a good way. I wasn’t excited to see my family, I was terrified. I knew what it meant when they came to visit. It meant I would have to make sacrifices, to put their needs before my own. It meant I would have to go back to the life I had tried so hard to escape.
They had always made me go to their place, but this time was different. This time, they were coming to me. I felt a sense of unease wash over me as I thought about it. What did they want from me now?
I zoned out, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Sana’s voice brought me back to reality.
“Izel...Izel...” she called out, her voice soft and gentle.
I nodded, still feeling dazed.
“When they’re coming?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sana’s response was like a punch to the gut.
“Tomorrow evening,” she said, her words confirming my worst fears.
I felt a wave of panic wash over me.
“Any reason for their visit?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
Sana shook her head, her expression sympathetic.
“Don’t know,” she said, her voice soft.
I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I thought about everything I had told Sana about my past. I had shared my deepest secrets with her, and now I felt vulnerable and exposed.
Sana’s words of comfort were like a balm to my soul.
“Don’t worry, I am here for you. And I’ll always support you. Don’t worry about tomorrow, let’s focus on today. Don’t spoil your food now, okay?” she said, her voice soothing.
As she pulled me into a hug, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I knew I wasn’t alone, that Sana was there to support me. I let out a sob, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could face whatever my family threw my way.
NEXT DAY (EVENING)
Sana went to pick my family from airport, as she know my situation.
I stood at the door, my heart racing with anxiety as I waited for my family to arrive. I had been dreading this moment for what felt like an eternity. The knock on the door finally came, and I took a deep breath before opening it.
“Asalamailakum,” I greeted them, trying to sound cheerful.
“Wailakumasalam,” they responded, their faces a mixture of curiosity and criticism.
“Andar aaye aap log (Come in, you all),” I said, stepping aside to let them in.
They settled into my sofa, looking around my apartment with an air of disapproval.
My dad spoke up first, “Ghar toh kaafi acha lag raha hai (The house looks quite nice).”
But my sister Shahin quickly chimed in, “Theek hai, itna khaas nahi hai, like aaj kal ki vibe nahi hai, kaafi outdated hai (Okay, it’s not that special; it doesn’t have today’s vibe; it’s quite outdated).”
Her comment stung, and I felt a pang of disappointment. I knew that if I said anything, my mom would jump on me, so I just forced a weak smile.
My dad asked me what I had been up to, and I replied that I was busy with a new project.
My mom couldn’t resist taking a dig at me, “Aaj kaafi busy rehte ho tum toh (You seem to be quite busy these days). Yeh nahi ki ek baar call karke puch lo ghar pe sab kaise hain (It’s not like you call to ask how everyone at home is).”
I knew she was still bitter about my past, and I felt a familiar sense of guilt and shame.
I defended myself, explaining that I had been busy with work, but my mom’s words still stung.
Shahin chimed in again, “Ghar pe aaye logo ko chai coffee puchhne ka tameez nahi hai, shayad aapko” (You don’t even have the manners to offer tea or coffee to guests, perhaps).
I felt like I was being attacked from all sides.
I apologized and asked if they wanted anything to drink.
My dad asked for a glass of water,
my mom wanted an Americano without sugar, and Shahin requested a Blue Lagoon mocktail.
I felt like I was walking on eggshells, trying to please them.
Sana was watching everything from the sidelines, her presence a comforting reminder that I wasn’t alone.
“I’ll get you all settled in,” I said, trying to sound hospitable. “Why don’t you guys go freshen up in your rooms while I get your drinks ready?”
My dad nodded in agreement, “Okay.”
I turned to Sana, “Can you show them to their rooms, please? And then come back to the kitchen to help me out?”
As soon as they were out of sight, I let out a sigh of relief. I felt like I could finally breathe again.
I turned to Sana, who had returned to the kitchen, and mouthed a silent “thank you” to her.
I began to prepare the drinks, my hands moving on autopilot as I tried to process the emotions swirling inside me. I could feel the tension building up, the weight of my family’s expectations and criticisms bearing down on me.
Sana stood beside me, her presence a calming influence. I glanced at her, searching for reassurance, and she gave me a gentle smile. I felt a sense of gratitude towards her, knowing that she was there to support me through this difficult time.
I whispered, “Thanks for being here, Sana. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She smiled and gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay.
Just then, my mom called out from the living room, “can you bring us some snacks?”
I rolled my eyes, feeling a surge of frustration. Couldn’t they just leave me alone for one minute?
But Sana just smiled and said, “I’ll get it. You stay here and take a deep breath.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude towards her. She was always there to help me, to calm me down when I was feeling overwhelmed.
As Sana headed out of the kitchen, I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. I knew that this was going to be a long night, but with Sana by my side, I felt like I could face anything.
“Alright, what would you like for dinner?” I asked, serving them their drinks.
My mom looked at Shahin and then back at me, “What do you think, beta? We were thinking of something homemade.”
“I think I’ll just order something from outside,” I replied, trying to avoid any more fuss.
But my mom was not one to give up easily.
“Oh, okay. Well, if you’re going to order, can you at least get some naan, and maybe some chicken tikka and saag paneer?”
Shahin added, “Yeah, biryani and get some gulab jamun for dessert?”
I felt my frustration growing as the list of demands continued to grow.
“I’ll just order something simple,” I said, trying to placate them.
But my mom was insistent.
“No, no, beta. We want all of those things. And make sure to get them from that new place that just opened up downtown. I’ve heard great things about it.”
“Are you sure, beta?” my dad asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, sure,” I said firmly. “It’s easier that way.”
I turned to Sana, who was getting ready to leave.
“Hey, can you stay and have dinner with me today?”
“I’m sorry, I have some work to finish up,” she said apologetically. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment.
“Okay, no problem. See you later.”
As Sana left, we began to eat, the silence at the table feeling a bit awkward.
“dad, any reason to come here? I mean, you guys never visited me even in my college days. I always have to go there. Is everything okay?” I asked, losing my mind.
“Hmm, actually...” Dad paused. “Humne ladka dekha hai tumhare liye shaadi ke liye (We have found a boy for you for marriage),” he said hesitantly.
“Why?” I said loudly, the word coming to my mind.
“Of course, humare benefit ke liye (Of course, it’s for our benefit). Ladka acha hai aur family bhi (The boy is good and so is his family),” Mom interrupted.
“But I don’t want to get married in such an arrangement,” I protested.
“We’re not asking for your opinion. We’re telling you what to do. Tumhari shaadi already fixed kar di hai (Your marriage has already been fixed),” Mom said.
“But how can you do this without even asking me?” I demanded.
“Shukar karo mandap pe bithane se pehle bata diya hai. Chahte toh zabardasti bhi kar sakte the (Be grateful we told you before seating you at the wedding. We could have forced you otherwise),” Shahin said.
“Tameez mein raho, and don’t dare talk to me like that,” I growled at her.
“Izel, apne haad mein raho. Tum meri beti ko aise bolne wali kaun ho? (Izel, stay in your limits. Who are you to talk to my daughter like that?)” Mom threw her anger at me.
“Mein apki beti nahi? (Am I not your daughter?)” I dryly laughed.
“Enough!” Dad said. “Tum shaadi kar rahi ho, that’s final (You are getting married; that’s final).”
“Beti ban ne ki haq jatana chahti ho na toh yeh shaadi kar ke humne jo tumhe pala hai uska bharpayee kar do (If you want to claim your rights as a daughter, then repay us for raising you by going through with this marriage),” Mom said.
“Are you serious?” I said, shocked.
“Waise bhi beti ki shaadi karna reh gaya hai; sirf humara humne baaki saare farz ada kar diye hain. Aakhiri farz pura karke hume baksho tum (Besides, getting you married is the only duty left; we’ve fulfilled all our other responsibilities. By completing this final duty, just leave us alone),” Mom said.
“You’re taking revenge on me for what happened to you. That’s why you’re forcing me into this marriage. Isn’t it?” Before I finished, Mom slapped me so hard.
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