Right now; at this very moment. I looked into Hisham’s eyes. “I don’t know, I guess it wasn’t too long ago,” I replied.

“Really?” Hisham said, his body inching forward. “Tell me, what was he like?”

Sweet, smart, charmingly handsome. Great sense of humor with an unbelievable taste in food. Can cheer me up—even after a morning spent with my mother—and knows the ins and outs of Indian wedding ceremonies like no one I’ve ever known.

I wanted to tell Hisham all these things. About the butterflies I felt each time he was around; how even though I had only just met him, I could already feel myself falling for him . . . But instead, I told him about Zain. How we met. How our mothers had ambushed us with a date. I told him about our night at the jazz club. The feelings I had for him and how he had ghosted me. I told him everything as he listened intently to every single word.

“Do you still think he was the one for you?”

“A few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes. But after hearing stories of how my parents met, seeing Meena and Haroon together, and even talking to you—” I paused. “I’m starting to question a lot of the things I used to be so sure of.”

“The best part of life is realizing you don’t need to know all the answers. Sometimes you just have to trust that you’ll figure it out when the time is right.” Hisham smiled, popping a bite of chicken tengri into his mouth. I sipped my falooda, silently lost in my thoughts.

* * *

After our meal, Hisham and I walked outside to wait for a taxi. The rain had stopped, and the humidity left a stickiness in the air that was almost oppressive. We leaned against a wall, feeling full and lazy.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Love—before or after marriage? What is your opinion?”

Hisham thought for a moment. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I’ve only ever seen it occur—successfully—the former way in the movies. But that’s not to say I don’t believe it’s possible. I think when it comes to love, anything is possible—regardless of what our mothers may tell us.”

“That’s because love before marriage is not the Indian way.”

“I know it’s hard for many people to wrap their minds around, but I guess I always considered the idea of love after marriage to be quite romantic.”

I gave him a look.

“Wait a second, hear me out,” he said with a laugh. “Think about it: two people who are willing to take a blind leap of faith and commit to each other for no other reason than for the intention of marriage—there’s definitely something special to that, don’t you think?”

I inhaled slowly as a warm breeze swept through the air. I had never really thought about it in that way before. The risks involved always seemed far too great, but I supposed there was something slightly romantic about such a giant leap of faith . . .