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I had convinced my husband to unwrap my head and hide the hideous scar with new bangs that fanned my forehead. He didn't approve worried about it getting infected. Excuse me who cares about infection when we are supposed to be in a party. I didn't want to look like a gangster with soiled bandages because I have neither vigour nor vitality to pull that persona off. I would look like a side charector who dies first in a horror movie after being heavily injured. I hated the fact that I'm being a center of attention when I'm at my worst.

"Your parents are going to be there?", I asked nervously.

"You have to wait and see", he said with a twinkle in his eyes. It just worried me. He always had a tendency to go overboard while organising things I blame all the money he had at his disposal.

Once I was down. I watched Fathima had doned her prettiest head scarf. It put a smile over my face. I saw Charlie on the corner doing her bidding. She rarely being told what to do.

"Charlie", I called her.