Suhad
I stared horrified at the piece of scrap in the box. I was calling it a piece of scrap because that's what it was. To call it a dress would be an insult to all the other dresses in existence. It was exposing, snug, and skimpy. All the things that I never wanted in a dress. To think that my husband had gifted me with something like this was something I never imagined. I mean he'd seen the type of clothes I wore, how could he then choose this for me?
Was this a joke?
I glanced up at Shadab considering that as a possibility but his face was anything but jovial. He was looking at me very seriously.
Ok. So he's serious.
I gulped.
"You don't like it." It was a statement, not a question.
"It's nothing like that. It's just that... I have never worn such kind of scrap- I mean dress bef
