Ishq

Asif|12

In a bustling bridal salon, the air is filled with the scent of perfume and the sound of laughter. Two brides-to-be, Maheer, and Mahjabeen sat side by side, surrounded by mirrors reflecting their excitement.

Maheer, with her innocent demeanor, leans into Mahjabeen with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Gul Appa dajjal jaisi hai," she quips, causing Mahjabeen to burst into laughter, her anger because of yesterday's incident dissolves away. In a way she was thankful and guilty because although Gul Khan wasn't her mother in law, she was Mahjabeen's. And that woman was heartless.

Mahjabeen, her laughter infectious, responded, "Unki teesri aankh hai?"

Maheer nodded knowingly, "Asif miya."

Their giggles filled the room as they shared jokes.

As they discussed their preparations, Mahjabeen turned to the parlour attendant, her curiosity piqued. "What products are you using?" she inquired.

Maheer interjects, "Mahjabeen ki hairstyle kaisi hogi?"

The parlour lady, with a hint of judgment in her tone, replies, "Woh Gul Aapa ne inka casual look k paise diya they, aapka bridal package h inka guest package."

Maheer's expression darkened, anger evident in her eyes. "Magar ye dulhan hai," she objected, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Mahjabeen, tried to diffuse the tension, shook her head and insisted, "Maheer aise bhi accha lagrha."

But Maheer refused to let it slide, her protective instincts kicking in. "Nahi, this isn't done, Mahjabeen. Ye log tumhe lightly lerahey, I can't believe it... tum unke bete ki biwi ho, this isn't done," she asserted, her voice firm.

Mahjabeen offered a reassuring smile. "Mai phuphi se baat karungi," she promised, urging Maheer to finally calm down. "Agar nahi kiya na Mahjabeen toh maine tumhaari shaamat laani hai," Maheer warned.

"Tumhare Abba ki yaad diladi tumne," Mahjabeen teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.

Maheer, realized her that her tone was forceful, quickly apologized, "Arrey, I am sorry, mera ye matlab nhi tha, bas gussa

"Meri badi behen hoti toh tumhari jaisi hoti."

"Jaisi matlab? Mai nahi hu kya?" Maheer feigned offence, prompting Mahjabeen to backtrack, "Nahi, tum beheno se bhi badhkar ho."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the parlour lady asked, "Kon?"

"Neha."

As Neha entered, Maheer shared the issue with her, and Neha sighed in understanding. "Ammi ne ye theek nahi kiya, mai Bhai ko batati hu-"

"Nahi nahi iski zaroorat nahi mai itni acchi lagrahi aisehi," Maheer interrupted Mahjabeen, frustration evident in her tone. "Tum chup karke baitho, Neha tum lagao phone," she instructed, taking charge of the situation.

Neha complied, dialling the number and relaying the issue to him. The response was swift, "Mahjabeen ko mere gaadi k paas lekar aao."

As Murtasim laid eyes on Mahjabeen, his breath caught in his throat. She stood before him, radiant and ethereal, yet something felt amiss.

The gown she wore was simple, outdated even, not befitting of the bride she was meant to be. But despite this, he couldn't help but be in awe, her beauty shining through.

"How do I look?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation."Bohot khoobsurat," Murtasim replied, his gaze unwavering as he stepped closer to her.

With a gentle touch, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture filled with tenderness. Her sweet smile deepened as she gazed at him, her eyes full of adoration. In that moment, it was as if he was her entire world, and she, his.