Accepted With Flaws

-Unfolding paths-

"Keep company of a believer only and let your food be eaten only by the righteous." (Tirmidhi)

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Omaiza's POV

The bustling streets of Bangalore hummed with life as I weaved through the vibrant crowds alongside my best friend, Mahira. It had been two long years since I last set foot in my homeland, and the city had transformed in many ways, yet it still felt strangely familiar, like an old, cherished melody.

"Why are these people staring at me, Mahira?" I couldn't help but ask, my self-consciousness taking over.

Mahira shot me an assuring look. "You're simply being anxious, Aiza!"

But beneath my anxiety lay something more profound, an unsettling sense that the world around me held secrets and whispered hints of my destiny, hints I couldn't yet decipher.

"Alhamdulillah, at last, we are almost near the library," I said, a breath of relief escaping my lips.

"Thank you, Princess Omaiza bint Omar. I would have never known if Your Highness hadn't enlightened me with this fact," Mahira replied, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. I couldn't resist rolling my eyes at her jest.

The comfort of being with Mahira was a refuge from the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied my return to India. In her presence, I cherished the moments when the weight of my world seemed to lift.

As we approached the library, an undercurrent of hushed excitement flowed around us. The familiar scent of aging books and the anticipation of undiscovered stories greeted me like an old friend.

"I'm worried about something," I confessed to Mahira as we took our seats inside the library.

Ever perceptive, Mahira leaned in closer, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on me. "Aiza, I knew something had been bothering you for the past two days."

I managed a smile, appreciating her unwavering support. "Liar," I playfully chided, though deep down, I knew she understood me better than anyone else.

Mahira had an innate ability to sense my unspoken thoughts, a connection that bridged the miles that often separated us. Our daily FaceTime sessions were not just conversations; they were lifelines to each other's hearts.

With a teasing pout, she said, "Remember when you first teased me about my marriage?"

Mahira arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What about it?" I asked kind of confused.

Remembering the moment , I admitted, "Haan (yes)... yeah. What happen then ?"

Mahira leaned in, her voice gentle. "Before we started our pillow fight that day, I asked the same for you. You  seriously turned pale at my question, and I didn't want to push it further and spoil our mood, so I dropped it."

I tried to shift the topic, asking casually, "By the way, what are you reading?"

Mahira's gaze softened as she placed her hands over mine. "I know we started this topic, but not here, please."

She nodded, I was grateful for her sensitivity. I didn't want to burden this moment with the weight of my worries.

"Please?" I appealed, my eyes pleading.

Mahira's reassurance was unwavering. "Whenever you feel like talking, you know I'm here and just a call away. Okay?"

"Of course," I replied, touched by her understanding.

As we prepared to leave the library before my father could call, Mahira suggested, "We'll grab our books and leave."

I agreed, "Yeah, that's perfect. You go ahead; I'll find a novel for myself."

Venturing into the nonfiction section, my mind raced with thoughts. "What should I tell Mahira? Will she understand if I say I'm not interested in marriage? And what if-"

Suddenly, I collided with a stranger, my book clattering to the floor.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, my forehead throbbing.

The man, his voice carrying a thick accent, hurriedly apologized. I assured him, "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

But my nerves got the better of me, and I found myself stammering in his presence, a habit that surfaced when I was anxious or faced with unfamiliar situations.

"Oh! Sorry. Let me help you.'' The man bent down to pick up my fallen book.

"No, it's fine. I can... I can manage," I replied, trying to regain my composure.

Our eyes met as he retrieved my book, and I couldn't shake the strange feeling in my stomach.

"So?" he asked, his gaze steady.

"I mean... I'd love to know-!" He began, pretending to show interest in the book.

But my words faltered, and I realized how peculiar this conversation was becoming.

"Ehm! Ah. Thank you, bye. I have to leave," I stammered, deciding to retreat from the situation.

"Why am I running? I have to slow down," I scolded myself as I made my way back to Mahira, who had been anxiously awaiting my return.

"I just bumped into someone; nothing to worry about," I reassured my best friend.

"I was just concerned," Mahira admitted.

"I am not a nine-year-old kid, Mahi," I playfully whined.

Mahira's explanation was tender, "I know that, but you haven't been to India in two years, and you don't even know the language and the places properly."

"Yeah, right! I am from another planet, and I have no clue as to how humans work," I teased, gesturing toward the bustling crowd. "Mahi, do they talk?" I added a hint of sarcasm to my playful inquiry.

Both of us shared a laugh, finding comfort in each other's company.

"Even if they can," Mahira teased, "science has yet to prove it."

"Excuse me, young ladies," said Mrs. Lizzy, the librarian, interrupting our conversation.

"Oh, thank you, ma'am." Mahira passed my novel, and we made our way out of the library.

I felt a gnawing hunger, a reminder that I hadn't eaten in hours. "Why don't we grab something to eat?" I suggested, rubbing my stomach.

Mahira's eyes lit up with excitement. "