Flowers were incredibly cheap in the East Market, and Heena had bought nearly every vendor's entire stock. The neighborhood aunties had gone to war with the decorations. Massive, cascading garlands of bright orange marigolds and deep red roses were strung across every wooden fence post, wrapped around the tree trunks, and hung from the drying lines. The sheer volume of the blossoms transformed the dusty, chaotic construction site into something wildly vibrant and beautiful. To Heena's modern sensibilities, it looked like a bohemian garden wedding.
Borrowed wooden chairs and mismatched tables lined the perimeter. The entire neighborhood was bustling, treating the venue not as a stranger's event, but as their own family courtyard. Men were sweeping the dirt flat and hanging paper lanterns, while the aunties shouted orders and arranged the borrowed porcelain.
When they spotted Heena walking in wearing her simple, dark robes, the neighborhood collective instantly turned on her.
