‘Wow! I could smell the goodness in your apartment the minute I walked in. But you haven’t settled in completely, have you?’ I ask as I look around his apartment and spot some unopened cartons lying around.

‘Oh yes! I haven’t had the chance to unpack. I moved here from Seattle just a month ago, and then I went back home to Pakistan. After that, I was visiting my daughter in Arizona. So, in my defence, I’ve practically had less than a week to myself in this apartment!’ he explains.

‘Take your time settling in and let me know if you need any help.’ I smile.

‘Thanks! Is there an Indian store around? I’m too lazy to drive to the suburbs to a Patel Brothers outlet.’

‘Oh yes! There’s one that I visit regularly. It’s just two lanes away. In fact, I have to stock up on my groceries. And since I’m working from home today, maybe we can go together?’

‘Sounds like a plan!’ he says. He walks back into the kitchen and pours the chai into two handpainted mugs.

‘What do you do, Shahnawaz?’ I ask.

‘I’m a psychiatrist with the North Shore Hospital group downtown.’

‘Wow.’ I’ve always been in awe of those who work in healthcare.

‘How about you?’

‘I’m a product manager at Beta.’

‘Interesting!’ he says.

And just when we’re about to dive deeper into a conversation about our immigrant lives like most brown people do when they meet for the first time, a notification on my AILENA app pops up. It reads: ‘WE’VE FOUND A NEW MATCH FOR YOU.’

I don’t understand what this could mean. New match? I open the notification and see that it says, ‘We found Neer and you incompatible for a long-term match. Therefore, we’ve cut off your connection in AILENA-verse. But we’ve reprocessed our database and found a better match for you.’ My heart starts to beat fast and I can feel my mind going into a state of shock. I begin to tremble fiercely as I read the lines over and over again.

‘What the hell?’ I whisper under my breath.

Shahnawaz, having just walked back into the living room with the tea, realizes that something is not quite right with me. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, putting the tray on the coffee table in front of me.

‘Umm … I-I don’t know,’ I stammer. I feel a little breathless and there is a growing tightness in my chest.

‘Take deep breaths and just stay still,’ he says, adopting a very typical doctor-like manner. He sits down beside me and gently holds my hands in his.

‘I’ve lost him,’ I murmur as I try to gather myself and take deep breaths as instructed.

‘Just breathe for now. We’ll talk about it later,’ he says. His voice feels as reassuring as a mother’s.