“What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?” she asked.
I guffawed. “Ruining my relationship with Yuvan? My parents finding out and their utter disappointment? Any auntie at mandir finding out and going through the exact same thing that happened years ago? A lot is on the line, Liya.”
“I know that. But I think you also know that you’ve got some sorting to do. You’re an adult,” she reminded me. “And if you can’t stand to be near Daniel without ripping his clothes off, then you’d best rethink this whole Yuvan business.”
Dang it. “I hate when you’re right.”
“You love when I’m right,” she teased.
I gnawed on my lower lip as anxiety descended again. I closed my eyes and made a snap decision, based on logic and current needs and the most efficient way to do things, just as I would with an emergency at work. “Okay, fine!”
“Yes!” Liya whooped.
“But just so you know, I’m going to move forward with dating Yuvan, and eventually engagement, because it’s the right course of action.”
“Engagement? Ugh. I can’t believe you never told us you’d been dating some guy.”
“I had to be certain about him before you started a debate,” I muttered.
Yuvan and I had been chatting for months, so when the time would come to say yes to engagement, I could be one hundred percent sure without the pressure from friends and family. But in my family and in our community, going public about dating was basically an announcement that we were considering marriage. My stomach sank at the thought. Marriage felt so…permanent. “My parents have their hearts set on him.”
“I still think you need to work things out with Daniel.”
“Not possible.”
“Tell me that after you spend some time with him. One night alone with Daniel and you wouldn’t be entertaining this ridiculous idea of being with anyone else. You saw him for part of a night at the reception. You need to finish that night.”
I wished she could see the scowl on my face.
“I mean…what would you do if you were stuck alone with him?” she asked almost whimsically.
“Probably hide.”
“Preeti! He deserves the truth. First love always deserves a second chance. All right. I’m going to give him a heads-up about you staying there.”
Maybe Daniel would decline the offer to stay if he knew I came with the apartment. Hope fluttered through me.
“Well, you better get to packing! I’ll be in town Saturday to welcome Reema back to good ol’ Houston. I’ll get some things from my place, but I’ll be staying with Jay, so feel free to start sleeping there right away,” she said almost too eagerly. “I can help you move.”
“That would be great. I want this place clean and ready for their return.”
“I don’t think I volunteered for cleaning duties.”
“What are best friends for, though?” I grinned into the phone.
She sighed. “Fine. See you then!”
As soon as I got off the phone with Liya, I called Sana to see if she could help me move over the weekend. She, of course, was eager to spend time with me and Liya.
I giddily packed blouses and slacks. I’d never lived by myself before, much less in a luxury apartment. And seeing that my singlehood could come to an end faster than the onset of lidocaine, I suddenly felt the need to live it up—after Daniel moved out, of course, because until then, I would be a master of hiding.
Maybe it was cold feet.
Maybe it was the constraints of marriage to a person I didn’t feel a connection with.
Maybe it was leaving the days of roommates and fully embarking on my own.
Whatever it was, I had a couple of months to be wholly free.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Singleness equated to freedom while marriage meant binding myself to a guy whom I didn’t love in hopes of developing those feelings later. It wasn’t unheard of—marrying out of pragmatism and falling in love at some point afterward. My parents had done it. My aunts and uncles and several cousins and countless others from mandir and literally millions across the Indian diaspora and beyond had done it. Our culture wasn’t the first or the last to encourage marriages according to carefully laid-out plans.
My brain, full of intelligent reasons and conceptual propositions, bluntly declared that marrying Yuvan was the practical, correct course of action. He was patient, successful, and adored by my parents. But my heart, or rather the chemical impulses raging uncontrollably across my system, blasted off that it was still, and always would be, a die-hard lover of Daniel Thompson.
Well, too freaking bad, oh treacherous heart. The brain must win this one. I had come too far in my personal journey to be swayed by a few encounters with Daniel.
I took in a couple of shaky breaths. Get a hold of yourself! You are a doctor, for goodness’ sake! How was it that I could deftly use a scalpel to cut open body parts and reapproximate everything without being a nervous wreck, yet I couldn’t manage to see my ex without imploding? One look at Daniel and I was five steps back.
All right. I could work past this.
Living with Daniel for three weeks? No big deal.
Calm down, body. No need to get all revved up.
Chapter Two
Thursday was typically family dinner night with my parents, but moving and overworking had me breaking the tradition this week. On the bright side, I could dodge questions about Yuvan. Circumventing questions was my specialty. I had at least three gold medals to show for it and might hit a fourth one for this week alone (crossing all fingers).
“Come to the house for dinner with Yuvan and his family. We can discuss dates. What do you think?” Mummie said over the phone that morning.
“Lots of work. Can’t this week. Besides, I need to take care of Liya.”
“Oh my! Poor, poor girl,” Mummie replied, and sent our conversation toward holding one of our elders accountable for assaulting my best friend. It was not easy. We lived in a society where a victim had to fight to prove her story while every skeptical doubt was thrown at her. She was villainized more than the actual villain.
I clenched my eyes, feeling the pain Liya had endured.
Mummie had a sudden fire in her that I lived for, though. I was content listening to her updates from the auntie squad. She’d banded with Liya’s and Jay’s and Reema’s moms and a bunch of other moms and orchestrated a plan to hold Mukesh accountable while Jay worked on the legal case. It made my heart swell with pride. Liya was strong and loyal and loving, and she’d found a match in Jay, who never left her side. It was a weird feeling to be elated for her and yet sick to my stomach for her.
I blinked and stared at my bedroom wall. Don’t think it. But ghostly whispers formed in the depths of my mind and curled to the surface.
Why hadn’t my mom spoken up for me when the fois raged with seething gossip bathed in inherent racism about my dating Daniel? Where was this band of aunties then? I knew my situation wasn’t as horrific as Liya’s, but still…where was the community to support me?
When we hung up a short while later, I sat on the bed and lost the battle to scroll through my contacts list.
I lingered on Daniel’s number, wondering aloud, “Is it still the same?” as my fingers hovered over the cell phone screen.