Light My World

Light My World

Aasiyah Qamar

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At twenty-four, Diya Hemant faces the prospect dreaded by every modern Indo-Mauritian girl – an arranged marriage to not end up an old maid. But for vivacious and live-life-in-the-fast-track Diya, giving in to her mother’s antiquated morals was never an option. Hearth, home and children weren’t part of her plan for the short-term, even if she’d love to find her Mr. Right.


 

Widower Trent Garrison has already been there and done that, and has no plan to go down that road again. He has to ride the straight and steady for the sake of his sons, and nothing will divert him. Marriage, attachment, and love are not in the cards for him, not ever.


Neither can afford a U-turn. But they can't dodge it either.


 

 
PUBLISHED BY: Eirelander Publishing
ISBN: 1449515371
PUBLICATION DATE: 2009
WORD COUNT: 89000
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 1
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: Contemporary, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: Contemporary, Multicultural, AngloIndian
 

EBOOKS BY Eirelander Publishing

EBOOKS BY Aasiyah Qamar

 
EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT Aasiyah Qamar/2009

Prologue


The dress would’ve made Scarlett O’Hara envious. The full skirt bellowed around her like an explosion of tulle and organza. Delicate, wispy lace caressed the skin of her arms, and the bouquet she held was a work of art with its cream rosebuds and velvety, fragrant frangipane.

The corset hugged her tight and the low neckline, with its pushed-up bodice, gave the illusion of a cleavage she couldn’t boast in her daily life. Everything was perfect - except for the veil.

A bride had to wear a veil - everyone agreed on it. Not her though. She hated how it altered her vision. Walking down the aisle of the large, airy and bright church, her gaze was directed at the altar, where he waited.

His was a tall silhouette, clad in a dark suit. The color looked like navy blue or slate-grey, but she couldn’t be sure. Damn it, if only it weren’t for the veil. The fabric before her eyes blurred everything - like looking through a murky sea caught in a storm. She wanted to rip it off, but her arms refused to obey when she tried to lift them.

It dawned on her then why women had been wearing veils on their wedding day. Back in the time of arranged alliances, it was so they wouldn’t see the unfortunate man they got stuck with until they’d pronounced the vows, and there was no going back.

She squinted as she walked closer to the front. It was strange that while the church was bathed in eerie white light, a dark shadow loomed on the groom. From time to time though, the sun-rays filtering through the stained glass windows hit his hair.

There was no golden sheen around his head, so he couldn’t be blond.

Not David Beckham then. Hugh Grant maybe? Who would she see?

As she stopped at the end of the aisle, he stepped out of the dark, yet the cloaking shadow still hovered over his face.

Her heartbeat picked up, and her mouth went dry. Time stopped when he lifted the voile onto the jeweled headpiece she wore. Her eyes closed and opened again when his hands brushed her shoulders as he pulled back.

She lifted her gaze, and as a cold breeze rushed past her, a churning feeling crept into her gut.

Who was she marrying?

Horror clutched her throat as her gaze settled on his face. She stood there, paralyzed, until the scream broke loose.

Her groom had the face of the Cheshire cat.

* * * * *

Diya Hemant sat up with a start in her bed. When she realized she was still screaming, she clamped both her hands on her mouth in an effort to drown the sound. What if someone had heard her shrieking like a banshee?

Her gaze fell on the closed, double-glazed window on the far wall, and she heaved a sigh of relief. The air forced its way into her bursting lungs, and her heart hammered in a pound.

The throbbing worked its way up and settled as a raging vibration in her skull behind her forehead. Her fingers flew to press at her temples, and she brushed back the strands of hair that had stuck to her sweat-drenched skin. Forcing herself to breathe in a calm rhythm, she willed the nausea rising up to disappear.

Diya opened her eyes a few minutes later when she’d regained her control and fought the upsetting feeling away.

Bright sunlight filtered through the flimsy curtains, hurting her eyes. Taking a quick peek at the clock on her bedside table, she threw the thin sheet off her and rushed into the adjoining bathroom, only to stop in her tracks when her feet touched the cold marble of the bathroom floor.

Today was Saturday - it didn’t matter if it was eleven already since she wasn’t expected at the office on weekends.

Stopping before the massive, granite-embedded black marble sink, Diya stared at her reflection in the three-foot tall and equally wide mirrored expanse on the wall.

What had that dream been about? Could that one single drink the previous night at the club have induced such a horrid vision?

Or was it her mind’s way of telling her that her twenty-fifth birthday loomed on the horizon, and she was still desperately single and unattached?

Running cold water from the tap, she splashed a generous amount on her face, washing away the cloying, heated sweat.

Too bad she couldn’t wash the unsettling feeling in her heart the same way...

 

 
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