Mending Broken Hearts

3. Best Laid Plans

August 2019

Madiha

"Madi, slow down", my sister's voice called out from somewhere behind me. 

We were out on a power walk in our neighborhood park. Or perhaps I should say I was out on a powerwalk, trying to burn off the samosas I had with chai while my sister came along so she could exercise her mouth. 

"Maliha, either keep up or go home", I yelled back at her. 

Yup, you read that right. 

My sister's name was Maliha. And mine was Madiha. My parents in their infinite wisdom, and equal parts laziness changed one letter in my name and decided to call it a day when my sister was born. Or perhaps they were just trying to pretend that the two of us were alike. A lie that I realized as such very early on in my life. 

Our names were where our similarities ended. She was younger to me by several years. At 22, being fair skinned like my mom, with light hazel brown eyes, thick and naturally straight hair, slim build and a career which did not keep her away from life 80 hrs a week, she was the young woman everyone aspired to be in our culture. 

I would give my life for her, but she and I belonged to two different worlds.

She is still your sister, my conscience chided me like it always did when it came to her. So I slowed down, letting her catch up, bracing myself for her incessant talking. 

"Oh my God Madi. You are literally running", she complained between her rapid breaths. 

"Running is good for you", I started walking again, albeit at a slower pace. 

"It also makes you sweat and melts your foundation"

"Then you should have stayed at home", I tried to keep my composure, but by God it was getting harder and harder around her.  

"I wanted to talk to you about something"

"We could have talked at home", I pointed out without looking at her, already starting to outpace her again. But this time she grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. Something about her blushing cheeks and shuffling feet made me pay attention to her words as well. 

 "Ami and Baba are at home", she said quietly, "and I wanted to talk to you about Hasan, alone."

I frowned at my kid sister, "Who the heck is Hasan?"

Turned out, he was much more than a classmate for her but a stumbling block for me. 

*******

Two Days and Two Dozen Red Roses Later 

"These are so beautiful, Madi. I wish Hasan had sent them to me", Maliha exclaimed as she handed me the bouquet of red roses that had been just been delivered along with a hand written card. 

'When saying I love you isn't enough - J'

"Aww that is so sweet", my sister's voice pulled me out of the shocked state I found myself in. Jawad certainly wasn't sweet the last time we had a face-to-face conversation. Neither was he in love with me when he called, almost a month ago, and threatened to break off the engagement if I didn't apologize for my behavior.