Page 93 of If I Loved You Less
I nod, and we walk back to join the others. Polite conversation picks up once more.
The picnic is cleared shortly after, everyone making their way back to their cars in silence. I try to get a moment alone with Shanzay, but she disappears before I can speak with her, which makes me frown.
Surely this is being blown out of proportion?
But things only get worse. I hear someone approach me, as I am putting the picnic basket in my car’s trunk, and I do not need to turn to know who it is beside me.
“Time to go, I think,” I say, meeting Fawad’s face with a smile on my own.
“Humaira, I can’t let you go without speaking my mind,” he says, clearly angry. He blocks my path, the both of us shielded from everyone else’s view by my car’s trunk.
I still, taking quick, short breaths.
“Badly done, Humaira,” he says, voice disappointed. “Badly done.”
“Surely—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“How could you be so cruel?” he asks, astonished. “Shanzay is a supposedly dear friend of yours. Yet you treated her so callously! You go on and on about how important she is to you, yet your behavior is completely opposite to what you say!”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” I say offhandedly, trying to minimize the situation. “I don’t think she was very hurt by it, either.”
“She was,” he says, eyes blazing. “She spoke of nothing else for the rest of the afternoon! And wondered what she could have done to earn such harshness from you. She thought it was her fault!”
My eyes well with tears as he lectures and scolds.I am sorry!I wish to say, but the words do not come. When he is finished, Fawad shakes his head, severely let down.
“This was badly done, Humaira,” he says again, voice low, and then he leaves, going to his car. I slam the trunk shut and see everyone else has left, too. When Fawad’s car pulls out of the parking lot, I am the only one who remains.
What is left, in the end, but my wretched, wretched heart?
And with nothing to be done, to make matters worse.
ChapterTwenty-One
Rizwan returns to England without an answer.
I don’t know what to say to him. Shanzay likes him, though I am sure she would not mind if I truly wanted to be with Rizwan, seeing as I saw him first.
I wish to discuss it with her at work, but she is distant and quiet, even when I bring her donuts from her favorite donut shop. With a stab of guilt, I realize she must have taken my comment from the picnic to heart, when truly I didn’t mean it as such.
I will have to visit her to make amends; I make a mental note of it, but to be honest, my mind is a bit jumbled, as it is. The Rizwan situation has certainly stumped me.
I did notthinkI loved him, but now that he’s proposed, perhaps I could grow to? Just as everyone said happens after marriage sometimes?
I cannot keep refusing offers forever; maybe this is as good as it was going to get. Rizwan is handsome, rich, clever, and likes me a great deal.
What else did I need?
I think about what he said, how I am sweet and good-natured, and yes, I am all of those things, but notonlythose things. He said I am perfect, but in a truth I rarely let on, I am not perfect.
Do I really wish to be with someone who sees me simply as a perfect doll?
Is that not setting myself up for disaster? I cannot bear to be put on a pedestal, cursed to be a performer forever.
Does that mean if I am not perfect, he will not love me? I would hope for someone to love me in spite of my flaws, not because they believe I have none.
People love me because of how they perceive me: amiable, sweet, good-natured, lively, and other such silly notions. They love me because of who I am to them: a kind face, a listening ear, a reassuring hand, a warm hug.
They love me because they do not truly know me. They see what they want to see, which is exactly what I show them.
