Page 24 of If I Loved You Less
“No – do you really think so?” Shanzay asks with a little gasp. I nod, and she covers her face with her hands. “He’s so smart and nice,” Shanzay says. “You’re so kind to introduce me to him. Really, Humaira. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh, think nothing of it,” I say, putting mashed potatoes onto my plate, then a piece of chicken, and some roasted vegetables. “And a quick note: when you take dinner, it’s prudent not to mix cuisines. It looks distasteful.”
“I didn’t realize,” Shanzay says, growing serious. “I’ve never been to such a fancy dinner before.”
“Don’t worry, it’s hardly a damning mistake, just something to be mindful of,” I advise. “It’s also best to take small amounts, then replenish your plate later. That way you don’t have a gigantic mound of food sitting before you.”
“Got it, got it.” Shanzay nods, making mental notes.
“Oh! Most important of all:neverpour raita over your biryani.” I shudder. “It is the highest offense in this family. You are lucky none of the elder phuppos saw you or they surely would have blanched.”
“God,” Shanzay whispers, mortified. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s alright, don’t be embarrassed,” I reassure her with a laugh.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Shanzay says. “Thank you, for everything.”
“Of course!” I say happily. We head to the drinks table, where I grab a soda.
“Humaira, I wonder…” Shanzay breaks off, looking away. “It’s silly.”
“What is it?” I ask, curious. “You must say so now that you have piqued my interest.”
“Well, it’s only that.” She pauses, biting her lip. “I wonder that you’re not married yet. You’re so accomplished and beautiful and clever; I imagine every eligible bachelor in a hundred mile radius would ask for your hand.”
“Oh, that.” I laugh, waving a hand. “No one has yet caught my eye,” I say, tone nonchalant. I consider it further. “And why should I hurry to marry when I live in the utmost comfort? I believe a marriage should improve one’s life, and luckily, I already have a near perfect life. So I won’t marry unless it’s to the great love of my life, really.”
“That makes sense,” Shanzay says. “You don’t need a husband at all.”
“Precisely.” Thoughneedandwantwere two very different things.
We make it back to the table, where Emad instantly grows animated upon seeing us.
“I tried your pies,” Emad tells me. “They’re so good. I need, like, a hundred of them in my freezer.”
“It’s nothing really,” I say quickly. “You should try Shanzay’s cookies one day! They are simply heavenly.”
“I guess I’ll just have to,” Emad agrees.
We continue talking, and I wait until Emad is in the middle of an animated story to slip away on excuse of getting dessert. Instead, I go to Phuppo, who is sitting with the bhabis, but she is not listening to their conversation.
Rather, her gaze is upon the babies sleeping in their little bundles. There is a wistful expression on her face.
I sit with her on the sofa, and she shifts over to make room for me. I squeeze in beside her and lean my head on her shoulder. She places a hand on my cheek, holding me close. (What did I say earlier? Phuppo can always be counted on for a cuddle.)
“Tell me about work,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “What projects are you working on? Mahmud Bhai mentioned something earlier about a new donut shop?”
“Yes! It’s a new franchise, and they sent us some donuts to sample. They’re so yummy,” I say. “Next time, I’ll bring you some, there’s this one lemon-raspberry one…”
I fall into the easy rhythm of speaking with Phuppo, and a little while later, Naadia joins us as well. Naadia, who went away to college while I commuted, was never as close to Phuppo as I am, but the three of us are still a happy trio when we are together nevertheless.
Any tension between Naadia and I from earlier is gone; it’s the way of sisters. I was ready to rip her hair out a little over thirty minutes ago, but with a quick shared glance, we’re back to normal. We bounce back with alacrity. Not before long, we are all laughing together, just like old times.
But then, eventually, as the night grows darker, the guests begin to leave. I do not see Fawad before he leaves. He slips away, and something in me hurts when I find he is gone.
I hate to leave things unresolved and unpleasant. Why is he so grouchy when it comes to the matter of Rizwan, anyway? It’s one thing for Naadia to be concerned on my behalf, to be upset at seeing me constantly disappointed, but what does he care?
I suppose I’ll never know.
