Tucking the fragile floral veil safely into a bamboo box, her next stop was the district's premier makeup artist.
When Heena kicked the door open and demanded full bridal cosmetics, the artist was thoroughly confused. When Heena clarified that the makeup was for her husband, the artist practically dropped her powder brushes.
"Are you crazy?!" the artist gasped. "Men don't wear full bridal paint! Just a little lip rouge, maybe!"
"Can you do the work or not?" Heena challenged, completely out of patience.
The artist paused, her creative pride instantly flaring up. "Of course we can! It will actually be a fantastic challenge!"
Heena slammed the address of the sedan pavilion down on the vanity, told them to go prep the groom waiting in the back room, and immediately walked out.
By this point, Heena had not drank a single drop of water all day. Her throat was bone-dry, her bandaged thumb was throbbing a relentless, agonizing rhythm, and her legs felt like lead. But she didn't stop.
