“No, no, no.” My mother shook her head. “The bride must not step out of the house after the mehendi ceremony. It is maayun. Don’t worry, Leila, I will come with you.”

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not necessary; I can just go on my own.”

“Nonsense, Leila,” she said, getting up. “Let me quickly change, and I will arrange for the driver.” I watched her hurry into the other room as I sat there confounded by how quickly my relaxing plans for the day had just unraveled.

Ten minutes later, we were seated in the back of the Maruti Suzuki with Sahil behind the wheel, the poor guy wiping drops of sweat from his forehead and nodding repeatedly as he tried to keep up with my mother’s complicated instructions: “We want to go to Santacruz West, but drop us off near the Tirupati Shopping Center across from Sai Baba so we can browse through all of the shops along the street . . .”

I leaned my head against the window. The last time I had gone dress shopping with my mother was my high school graduation, and that excursion had ended in tears. Not happy ones. I had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

“We should look for a nice lehenga choli or a stylish sari for you, Leila. Something fashionable that all the young girls are wearing these days,” my mother babbled excitedly. “And no more of these dark, gloomy colors. We should get you something light and bright. By the way, how did things go with Asad last night? He seems like a very nice boy, no?”

Only my mother could expertly maneuver an innocent conversation about outfits to a loaded question about rishtas in the same breath. She didn’t even use an indicator before she swerved. I was blindsided.

“It went okay, I guess.” I shrugged.

“He is a good boy, Leila.” She patted my knee. “I really hope that you will give him a chance.”

“I did, Ammi,” I said, my tone slightly aggravated. “In case you forgot, I spent a good deal of time talking to him last night.” Or rather listening to him talk about himself, I thought, but held my tongue.

“That is very good, Leila. The more the two of you talk, the better. And the good news is, you will see him again at the reception tomorrow. It will give you time to get to know each other even more.”

“Great,” I said with as much forced enthusiasm as I could muster. My mother smiled weakly and then looked out the window. After a few moments, she cleared her throat.

“You know, Leila, sometimes I wonder if things would be different if you had grown up here.” She hesitated for a minute. “I just look at all these girls—even younger than you—and they are all happily married and settled. I just wish that for you too.”

I remained silent.

“I just want you to be happy, Leila.” She turned to me with tired eyes.