SANA
In typical desi style, the girl's family in Dhanmondi had prepared everything beautifully. Fresh flowers. New cushions. Plates of nawabi semai and shahi tukra arranged with obvious care. My mother wore her best silk saree. My father had ironed his panjabi twice. They had been waiting for Tahmid's wedding for a long time, and today felt, to both of them, like the beginning of something.
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