's P

ing. The wedding, by any objective measure, had been a resounding success. A deep, quiet

s cataloging the faces in the crowd, a curated collection of the city's most powerful and influential people were here. I hadn't just invited guests; I'

nd on a shoulder here, a shared laugh there. By the time the cake was cut, I had already secured three tentative lunch meetings and a firm commitment t

yes quickly sweeping over the guests, ensuring the performance had la

, almost imperceptible nod. She had been coldly compliant all day, a statue of toleration. But now, she

tened. All ey

warmth that didn't quite reach her eyes, though only I

rafted golden necklace that glittered under the ligh

show you how truly happy we are to have you as a daughter," he said, his

its purpose: it was a visible, undeniable symbol of acceptance. It screamed "loving family" to everyone watching. T

urmured, the words feeling like lines in a script. I hadn't complimented her looks much throughout the day, not in th

nce had been flawless. I had played the role of the perfectly in-love groom so well that even I almost believed it. The

--

's p

, beautiful dream. My very own fairy tale. I, Tala, the girl they use

romance novels I'd secretly adored. The way he had proposed, after all those years of silence, was a story I would tell our grandchildren. The wa

It's just you and me." When I'd worried about my heels, he had gently told me, "You don't have to wear them, I know they're not comfortable, my love. I only care

ce on my back. "Tala, I'd like you to meet Mr. Sami, our brilliant head of engineering," he'd say, his voice brimmin

he important people in his world because I was now the most important part of it. He was showing me off, wanting them to see the woman he loved so much. I di

n the perfect porcelain of the day, but my mind, s

es before the wedding, and his kind but quiet father a few times more. But where were the others? I hadn't even met hi

y, you are a beautiful girl. For a big girl, of course." The words stung, but I brushed them away. She was just from a different gen

photographer only gestured to Amir, his parents, and his two sisters. They arranged themselves, a perfect, closed unit. I stood there, my smile faltering

m, thinking I should be included, but Amir's mother looked up and the conversation stopped. Amir

y people to attend to. I thought to myself that he was already building our world together, a