Menu

My Sister’s Wedding

When I wrote My Brother’s Wedding in 2010 and it got published in 2013, I had no clue it would go on to be one of my most successful books. I have had readers asking me time and again, to write a sequel, because they wanted to know what happened to Shahid and Saba. 

They got married. Duh. 

He he! Anyway, I had a few ideas brewing around in my head and I decided to write the book – My Sister’s Wedding finally and I published it on Amazon’s KDP platform. 

This means that it’s e-book only and if you have Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for free!

Also, isn’t this cover gorgeous? All thanks goes to my talented friend Pooja Premnath who designed it for me.  Psst! She’s happy to take on work for anyone else who wants to get their covers designed by her! 

Here’s a preview and the link to buy the book follows right after that –

Prologue

July

The invitation card was an elaborate, mildly perfumed contraption that took all of three minutes to open. Rabia’s sigh was one of relief and even a little envy but she pushed aside that thought immediately. She read the text slowly and carefully and then smiled a little. The brat was getting married finally.

She glanced at her mother who looked frantic as always and placed a hand on her arm.

‘Ammi, relax. We’ll get everything done,’ she assured her.

‘I know. But still, there’s so much work to do beta. And we’re the girl’s side and…’ her mother trailed off, once again getting lost in some list, squinting at it as she sat back on the sofa and winced, pulling out a blue plastic block from under her.

Rabia shook her head and rolled her eyes. The living room of their house was no longer the quiet and peaceful sanctuary it used to be. Her brother Zohaib’s one year old son Aamir, and her three year old daughter Misha, had claimed the space as their own. Either one stepped on their squeaky toys, or pulled out some gummy sticky teether from under the sofa or found some toy poking their butt when they sat down.

‘Saba! The cards have come!’ Ammi called out and Saba came out running from her room, her hair askew.

‘Really? Show?’ she said, sitting down on the carpet near the coffee table, her eyes shining. She picked up one of the cards and tried opening it, but it got stuck. Exasperated, she pulled on the string too tightly and the card ripped down the middle, nearly in half.

‘Hey! Be a little more careful!’ Ammi protested. ‘These are expensive cards!’

Ignoring her, Saba scanned the text and her face fell.

‘What is it?’ Rabia asked, wondering how Saba could find fault in the exquisite invitation card.

Pushing her hair back behind her ears, she looked at Ammi.

‘Why is Shahid’s MBA mentioned and not my MA? And why is my name spelled as Sabah with an ‘h’?’ she asked, suddenly directing her gaze to Rabia, eyes narrowed.

‘Don’t ask me. I’m seeing it for the first time too,’ Rabia said, shrugging. Their mother however chose to ignore everything that Saba said and focused on just one thing.

Shahid? You’re saying his name out loud? Your honay wala shohar?’ she asked, eyes wide and scandalised. Both Rabia and Saba looked at their mother exasperated.

‘Ammi, we need to reprint these cards,’ Saba said, getting up from there, a mutinous look on her face.

‘Not happening,’ her mother said. ‘It’s all done and we barely have any time left. The wedding is in three months!’

Rabia looked at her younger sister whose face looked panicked momentarily and then resigned.

‘Fine. But I’m not giving out these cards to my friends or colleagues. I’ll ask Shahid to give me the cards they’ve printed,’ she said, walking away from there.

‘Arrey! You are not supposed to be talking to him! You know that right?’ Ammi called out, looking anxious. Rabia’s inquisitive gaze followed her sister as she entered her room and shut the door with a loud bang.

Interesting, Rabia thought. But she was soon brought out of her thoughts by her mother who was telling her that there was going to be a lot of work to be done. Taking that as her cue to leave, Rabia pulled out her phone and booked an Uber for herself back home.

‘Misha!’ she called out. Her daughter who was playing upstairs in Zohaib’s room with his son came down, holding the railings carefully. ‘Time to go!’

‘Okay mama,’ she said and hopped down the last step and came running to her. Just as they were leaving, Rabia picked up one of the invitation cards and waved it to her mother.

‘I’m taking one of these with me,’ she announced and headed off towards the door. Her mother followed her reluctantly.

‘You talk to her, no?’ she told Rabia.

‘About what?’ Rabia asked, her gaze snagged on her phone where she was tracking the cab that was just making a turn into their lane.

‘About…about being careful and not…not talking to Shahid,’ Ammi said, twisting her saree pallu nervously.

Rabia shrugged. ‘She doesn’t listen to me. You know that right?’ she said.

‘Yes, but…I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this. I just…’

‘What is it Ammi?’ Rabia asked, almost impatiently. The Uber was almost here.

‘I don’t know. Anything can happen in three months.’

Buy the book here.