I sit up and click on my bedside light. The alarm clock reads 4.22 a.m. but I’m wide awake. My brain is fizzing with excitement because I am certain I’m on the brink of having a brilliant idea.
I only graduated three weeks ago, but already Mum has been dropping hints about my ‘next big step’ and somehow I don’t think she’s talking about my glittering career as an international magazine journalist. Nope. My parents are not talking about me becoming the next big star of the media world. They are talking about the dreaded S word.
No! Not sex! (Before marriage? No way.)
S for shaadi, Urdu for marriage.
I’ve reached the deadline. A bit like those best-before dates you get on food, which makes me the curdled yoghurt at the back of the fridge or maybe a mouldy heel of cheese. Anyway; after my A-levels, when I’d reached the grand old age of eighteen, the age when women in our family tend to give in and get married, I’d rashly promised my olds that of course I’d eventually get married, but only after I’d completed my education. I put it right at the bottom of my ‘Things To Do (much) Later’ list – along with lose a few pounds, do sit-ups every night and always take my make-up off before bed-time. But time seems to have been on fast-forward mode and here I am, twenty-two years old and firmly bolted to my shelf with my parents starting to make noises about having nikkah papers to frame next to my degree certificate.
Miss Mills Ali, you have been evicted! Please leave the Big Mother house!
Tomorrow is my cousin Tara’s shaadi. My new churidar kurtas are hanging up in my wardrobe and the bargain Jimmy Choos I found on eBay are in pride of place on my chest of drawers so that I can worship them from my bed.
But clothing aside, I’m dreading the whole affair. Every relative for miles around will be there, gobbling free grub and wailing at the sadness of Tara leaving the family home, while endless auntie-jis will be dropping concrete-heavy hints regarding my unmarried state. Mum will be whipped into a frenzy of sentimental paranoia and by the time we leave she’ll be mentally drawing up a shortlist of eligible bachelors for me and probably running up an Everest-sized phone bill calling all her friends in Pakistan for suggestions.
I’m getting a migraine just thinking about it – and I don’t even get migraines.
So anyway, back to my brilliant idea.
My friend Eve always says if you sit in the passenger seat too long you forget how to drive.
Maybe it’s about time I learned?
We hope you’ve enjoyed this sneak peek at The Wedding Countdown, which is available globally in eBook formats.
Ruth Saberton is the Amazon top ten best-selling author of Weight till Christmas, Rearranged, Katy Carter Wants a Hero, Ellie Andrews has Second Thoughts and Amber Scott is Starting Over. She also writes upmarket commercial fiction under the pen names Jessica Fox, Georgie Carter and Holly Cavendish.
Born and raised in the UK, Ruth is currently living in Grand Cayman, where she plans to stay for the next two years. What an adventure!
And since she loves to chat with readers, please do add her as a Facebook friend and follow her on twitter.
www.ruthsaberton.co.uk
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51