Our afternoon together kept replaying in my head: the way he held me close . . . the sound of his heart beating next to mine . . . Why wouldn’t he tell me he was engaged? We had spent so much time talking about love and relationships; I couldn’t understand why he would have withheld this information from me. Did he simply forget? Or was it intentional? Either way, I felt hurt. More than hurt, I felt foolish. Betrayed. Rejected. The knot in my stomach wound tighter and tighter.

“I found you.”

A thin voice broke up my thoughts. I turned to see Asad smiling broadly.

“Wow, Leila.” He took a quick glance over me from head to toe. “You look ravishing!” he exclaimed, touching the tip of his mustache.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, still distracted by my thoughts.

“I was actually hoping we could continue our conversation from the other day. We hit such a momentum, and it was unfortunate we got cut off.”

Unfortunate was hardly the word I would use, but I needed to get Hisham off my mind.

“Sure,” I replied. “What did you want to talk about?”

Asad’s smile slightly wavered.

“I just think you and I are very compatible, Leila. I think you feel it too.”

I forced a polite smile.

“We share the same values and worldviews. We have similar expectations when it comes to a life partner. I just thought with you and aunty leaving soon, perhaps we should consider moving forward with this. What do you think?”

“Moving forward? As in . . . ?” I knitted my brows.

“I already spoke with my parents about you.” Asad looked at me eagerly. “They would be open to an engagement. That is, if you are.”

An engagement? My heart pounded in my chest. This was it. My final chance to successfully meet my parents’ deadline . . .

Directly behind him, I noticed Hisham out of the corner of my eye. Hisham, the man of my choosing, versus Asad, my mother’s pick. The choices offered two very different futures: a life of arrangement versus a life of love. The only problem was, only one of these choices had selected me.

A sharp pang sliced through the center of my chest. Asad was my only chance. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a brittle sound escaped.

“What do you say, Leila?” Asad pressed.

A wave of nausea washed over me. Was this what it had come to? Was this the only way to satisfy my parents’ expectations? I couldn’t believe this was the ending to my Bollywood fairy tale all along.

“I . . . I don’t know,” I stammered. My head spun in confusion. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

“Yes, of course.” Asad smiled; however, the disappointment in his voice was obvious.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I said, unable to look him directly in the eyes. “I think I just need to get some air.” I touched my hand to my forehead and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I really have to go.”