Ajabdeh walked into the banquet hall of the star hotel feeling a little conscious. She had spent almost two months savings for this wedding of her childhood friend and neighbour Asha and yet she looked clearly out of place in the circle. She adjusted the gown a little, clutched her purse for dear life and forced a smile as a familiar face approached her and asked about her father’s absence. Ever since she remembered coming to these events to keep up an appearance he had refrained from the pretension, making her an expert at making excuses for him. Sometimes Ajabdeh felt uneasy at how her father had blended into the downcasted life, befriending the judgy neighbours and even having an occasional chat with the milkman or watchman. She could not picturise him doing that had they been of wealth. The little she saw of her grandparents she remembered they kept an aura of elegance around them that was oddly missing in her father and his lifestyle. Had they been… Ajabdeh inhaled, preparing hers...