Chapter 2
1000 Words
Marry women of your choice, two or three or four. But if you fear you won't be able to deal justly, then only one.
-Al-Quran
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Mum's eyes widened in pure horror, while I just stood there, gasping for breath as if I've just committed the world's biggest crime. She—obviously—noticed all the scratches and crimson dying my clothes.
"Aaleya!" she screamed, sprinting across the distance between us towards me. She gripped my arms so tight that I hissed through my teeth as pain sliced through my whole body.
"Mum," I warned, peeling her hands off my arms as careful as possible. "I am fine." Yeah, you know, I am fine. Just got hit by a car, and the driver turned out to be my amazing cousin that you probably want me to get married to. "It's nothing. Please be quiet, I beg you. Everyone else will wake up, and it will be. . .just not good."
Of all the things, she rolled her eyes.
Because?
I had this little—no—huge obsession with mastering British accent. I had been a reader as long as I could go back in my past and remember things. Fiction is my favorite genre, just because it makes me have hope for all the good guys out there. Maybe I'll find the good guy too.
Back to the topic. So, over the years, after watching British shows continuously, I started picking after the accents, and boom! I now have a. . .perfect? I don't know, but a decent British accent, and I could literally even speak the American accent I used to while growing up in Pakistan. It was just my choice.
"Were you in an accident?"
Mum's beautiful deep brown eyes turned worried, the slight wrinkles underneath them growing more prominent. It kinda made me sad, knowing she has to do all the chores and make tons and tons of food for my three gigantic brothers. Although our helper offers to help her in cooking, she is just too adamant to accept any of it.
I nodded, trying to mask the pain that pulsed through me every time I blinked my eyes or took in a breath.
She ran a hand over my head. "Come on, I'll help you clean up."
At night, I couldn't sleep.
Weird, as it may sound, but I couldn't get Adian's face out of my head. Even though it was just a glimpse and I looked away immediately, I still kind of got an idea. He reminded me of my younger self, how I was so isolated and just didn't care about anything. I saw it in those stone eyes of his.
But, boy, oh boy, did he have an accent? I had always wished for my man to have a Australian or British accent.
Ugh.
What the hell am I thinking?
It's not like we'd be married or something. He looks a jerk, and probably is one. I bet he has like a million girlfriend in different countries, because, you know, he's got that voice, and those eyes, and that hair—
Stop!
The following Saturday, I turned eighteen. It didn't feel like anything. Just a normal day with my family paying a bit extra attention to me, especially my brothers who usually spend their holidays from college and university sitting on their video games and just shouting throughout the entire day.
But not today.
"So, if you were to be married to a British guy, would that make you delirious?"
Oh. No.
Marriage.
Oh boy.
Shahdab, the brother two year younger than me scoffed while he stabbed the buttons on the controller. Without moving his eyes off the TV screen, he said, "She wouldn't even need to see him and say yes. I bet she'd even marry a 40-year old Uncle just for his accent."
I almost dropped the plate on the floor. "That's so not true. I prefer a guy with accents, but if he ain't religious, and doesn't know how to respect me, why in the world would I say yes?"
We were all in Shahdab's room. Me, Haris, and Ahmar, both older than me. Haris was one year older, and Ahmar, two. Didn't mean that their mentality was any mature than Shahdab.
Haris snorted, as he brought his feet closer to my face. I slapped them away. Why do I even share a sofa with him? He finds it amusing in every way to annoy me. And sadly, I let him.
"We were supposed to keep it a secret. But, you know how I am with keeping secrets from you." Haris might be quite obnoxious sometimes, but I knew he loved me loads. He was almost pouting from where he was sprawled in front of me. "Some people are coming tonight, maybe that's your birthday surprise, but please, I beg you, please don't tell Dad I told you. He'd kill me."
I was too shocked to utter a word. Where Ahmar and Shahdab were busy in the game, Haris just gave me sad, sorry eyes. I had no idea why he felt sorry for me.
I spoke in a low voice. "Hey, you know I have to get married one day or the other. So, be happy. Maybe it is for the best." I smiled. He didn't.
He sat up straight. "The guy doesn't live here. He lives in Birmingham."
"And why is that a problem?"
"I don't know, Aaley, maybe he is, like, a jerk? Drinks? Would treat you badly once you set off with him to UK? So many possibilities. So damn many."
I laughed, and that only deepened his frown. "You watch way too many Drama's. Go and chill with your friends."
He ran a hand through his curls. I plopped a meatball in my mouth, loving the after taste. I offered him, but he just shook his head and left the room.
So, a British guy it is then?
Seemed like there was so much in store for me.
- Writer
