SEVENTY | Not My Fight

[ZARINA]

The music played in the air. The rays of the sun choreographed a soft and warm dance of their own. I tried to suppress the anxiety burning like an ulcer in my stomach—causing the lump in my throat to swell a size bigger and dry my mouth like a desert—but it only worked as oil to the fire. Making me feel even worse. More...miserable.

On any other day, the thought of getting married would have filled my body with butterflies, making me all tingly and pink. A little shy maybe. But aware of the fact the thought had only crossed my mind twice or a maximum of thrice in my entire life, screamed a lot about the priorities that governed me throughout my life. A wedding was never one of them. And perhaps that’s the reason when the elegant doors of the chapel opened, cool air welcoming me with a touch of warmth from the eyes of the spectators, I felt unprepared.

Hesitant.

Uncomfortably prickly.

The distant sound of someone clearing their throat yanked me back to reality and all of a sud