Chapter Four

"Mom, I'm here. Stop calling me for every five minutes." Ibrahim huffed as he parked his car in front of a cozy two story house. His mother has been nagging him for the last half an hour asking him to come soon, as they've already reached the supposed bride's house. He couldn't help that they are over enthusiastic about this whole marriage thing.

"Come inside then."

The house looked small compared to his, but it was beautiful nevertheless. Something like the modern and ancient times combined.

"Ah, here he is." Salika Qureshi exclaimed with a sigh, as he entered the hall. His family were already seated on the sofa, along with one uncle and a guy of his brother's age. Must be the bride's family he thought and smiled at them politely.

"Assalamualaikum." he greeted them all, to which they replied back while he took a seat beside his parents.

Pleasantries were exchanged and then Salika was on and on about how good of a son he was. At some point he was starting to feel shy. Ibrahim has never heard his mother praise him so much in his whole life like she was doing today. The girl must be really good for his mother to be impressing them like this.

"Can we see your daughter? Looks like someone is getting impatient." Salika nudged him playfully and Ibrahim couldn't even whine at his mother, considering they had an audience.

"Ahil, go and inform ammi to get Mawra down." he heard the bride's father whisper to his son, who nodded eagerly and ran upstairs.

Mawra?

Could it be her? Ibrahim was confused for a moment, but he shook his head. There are so many Mawra in the world and what are the possibilities that it should be her, he wondered thoughtfully.

But his thoughts died deep down as he eyed the familiar girl, clad in a beautiful red kurti descending down stairs with a blank look on her face.

Ibrahim's eyes widened in shock and surprise as the girl was none other than the same Mawra Hussian, his personal assistant.

How?