A tsking noise from her father stopped her hand cold. Looking to her father, she felt her stomach drop in acute embarrassment at the shaking reprimand of his head.
Pulling back her hand, Nadira kept her gaze focused on her plate as she heard her sister giggle at the sudden silence at the table.
"You probably don’t know this, Kedar," her sister began in a syrupy sweet tone, laced in mockery. "But Nadira used to be kind of fat."
Her stomach tightened until the point of pain as she risked a glance up only to see Kedar's handsome dark gaze look from his wife then directly to her with an awkward sort of pity. Nadira prayed her sister would just choke and die right there at the table or a giant hole would at least open up on the floor beneath Nadira and swallow her whole so that at least she wouldn't have to sit here and endure this burning mortification.
"Nazma," her mother hissed.
Normally, the reprimand accompanied by the older woman's threatening expression would have been enough to set both girls’ back to ramrod obedience, but there was a newfound glint of euphoric freedom in her sister's eyes as she sat across from their mother. It was as if she had taken the time during her short week of married life to truly come to grips that she was no longer simply Nazma Razdan's daughter that could and would be struck for any misbehavior and simultaneously admonished at any moment, she was now a free woman in her own right—a married woman.
Laughing off the verbal warning as if she was talking with a dear friend or distant relative and not her mother, Nazma continued. "What? We are all family here." Nadira couldn't help but stiffen at the malicious sting of Nazma's eyes as they purposely cut her way at the use of the word "family" before lighting back up with gleeful amusement. "She was a bit—stocky—for a while and dad forced her to eat practically nothing until she was suitably thinner. Although, I think personally you may have taken it a bit too far, sis. But once you get a husband, then you can get round again, but this time with kids."
An awkward, almost deafening silence fell over the table and Nadira thought she might drown in the humiliation she felt. Her skin felt like it was on fire and her head began to spin as she imagined Kedar's pitying gaze looking at her.
Clearing his throat, her father turned and spoke to Kedar. "Tell me, how is your firm doing? I heard from your father that you will be working on the new music hall in San Pablo."
Nadira barely listened to her father's and Kedar's conversation about his architectural firm, all she could focus on was the feeling of her mother's fuming anger at Nazma. Although Nadira knew it was more for the blatant act of defiance towards her long accustomed authority rather than for Nadira's sake.
Shifting in her seat, she could feel the warmth of the stone against her chest and resisted the urge to touch it. She wasn't sure at what point her sister began to hate her, but ever since Nazma fully came to grips with her beauty and the power it gave her in their parent's eyes, she had used Nadira as the butt of every vicious remark and weaseled her way into any sliver of spotlight that attempted to shine on her. For Nazma, it was never enough, no amount of attention could ever fill the girl's bottomless tank of need. If Nadira came home with academic awards, then Nazma would take that moment to recount the praise she supposedly received from her teachers for her average grades. Nazma was only ever truly happy with what she could take from Nadira's plate, and that included Kedar. Nazma had purposely stayed up late that night to see Kedar escort her back home. All it took was one look at the younger prettier sister and her naturally seductive looks and Kedar, and the evening they shared together, was lost to Nadira. That was why she didn't dare lift her hand to her necklace hidden beneath her clothes, it may be small and insignificant if not a little ugly, but it wouldn’t matter. If she saw it, if she sensed that Nadira wanted it Nazma would cry, pout, and rage until she coerced their father to snatch it from Nadira's hands and put it in hers—exactly the type of victory Nazma adored.
Later that night, after the dishes were stacked in the sink—for Nadira to wash later—they all sat on the couches in the living room.
"Make sure to help your mother-in-law as much as she needs, Nazma," their mother cautioned.
Waving at her as if batting away the unnecessary advice hanging in the air, Nazma leaned back against the cushion and gave her an imperious smile. "Of course, I will. We will be living in the annexed building in the back of the property so once I make Kedar breakfast each day before he goes to work, I will walk—"
"We will be staying in the basement my uncles remodeled," Kedar corrected, pulling himself away from the conversation he was having with her father at his wife's pronouncements. Turning in his seat, he looked over to Nazma, waiting for her reaction.
Nazma's smile faltered, whirling in her seat to face her husband fully, she gave him a fierce look. "You told me that we would live in the annex while your brother and his wife live in the basement."
A dark look of authority passed through Kedar's dark eyes. "My father texted me the other day and I agreed to it," seeing her look of outrage, he continued his voice rising just one octave in even deeper command. "My brother just shared the news that they are expecting their first child and will need the extra room of the annex until they buy their first home."
Stricken and nearly shaking with pent up outrage, Nazma turned to the one person who always fixed her problems, their father. But the words never got to leave her beautiful cherry red lips. As if expecting his daughter's oncoming outburst, their father shook his head silently, immediately dousing the flame of hope in Nazma's eyes. She was married now and from now on, Kedar would be the one she would turn to whether she liked it or not.
Taking this opportunity, Nadira stood from her seat and looked to her mother and father. "If you do not mind, I have quite a bit of homework I need to do," she left the unspoken question hanging in the air.
With a nod to her mother and a dismissive wave from her father, she was excused from the room. Resisting the urge to take the beige carpeted stairs two at a time, she left for the solitude of her room.
In the confines of her room, Nadira let herself smile at the revelation her sister had to experience and let herself linger on the memory of Kedar's authoritative face. It was not an expression she was prepared to see on the handsome architect. On their one and only date, he seemed kind and gentlemanly, not at all like a man ready and willing to set his wife to rights in front of her family. Although if anyone in the world needed a firm guiding hand in life, it was Nazma, still, Nadira thought the idea of going from one controlling house to another was not at all what she wanted. Maybe marrying Kedar wasn't such a bad thing, a part of her even felt a thread of pity for her sister. Shaking her head of the thought, she reasoned that if anyone could figure out how to get her own way, it was Nazma; she would probably have that house heeding her every beck and call in a matter of weeks.