“Tania . . .” I suddenly felt incredibly guilty. I had been so self-absorbed, so consumed by my own failures that I hadn’t even noticed that my best friend had just gotten her heart broken.

“Why would you think that would be a bother to me?” I said with a pained look on my face. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug. “Tell me everything. What happened?”

Through muffled tears, Tania told me the whole story. How the day before she was supposed to meet Zeeshan’s parents, she had decided to share everything about her past with him. Her previous marriage, the fact that her parents had arranged it without any input from her, her inevitable divorce: she put it all out there for him. At first, he seemed understanding—even comforting, reassuring her that things like that happen and it wasn’t her fault. But the next day, when he was supposed to pick her up to drive her to his parents’ house for lunch, he never showed up. She had left him dozens of texts and voice mails, but she got nothing but silence from his end. Three days later, he finally called her back and told her that his parents could never accept a girl who had already been married—regardless of the circumstances—and even though he still cared for her, he couldn’t go against his parents’ wishes.

“I sent you the email because I needed to tell someone,” she said softly.

“So none of the other girls know?”

She shook her head.

“Oh, Tania!” My voice cracked as I thought back to when I saw her at Liv’s house. How selflessly she had comforted me and offered words of solace. No one would’ve guessed that there had been two broken hearts in the room that day.

As I watched her wipe her eyes with the corner of her blouse, I thought about how different her situation had turned out from my parents’. My parents were fortunate to have found love within their arranged marriage, but Tania was left with nothing more than a painful scar from her past. She would forever bear the blame for a choice that wasn’t even hers. It didn’t seem fair.

“Listen, Leila,” Tania finally said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we, as South Asian women, are constantly having to prove our worth. We are constantly having to prove that we are good enough. And for who? Our parents? Our future husbands? Our potential in-laws? The entire South Asian community? No matter how hard we try to please others, we are always going to be judged because of our past, our age, our marital status, our career, or whatever. You know better than anyone that it’s a double standard that only applies to women. I say we put an end to it.” She grabbed my hands. “I should’ve said something to you the other day, but I’m going to say it now. This is no longer about them, Leila. Your parents, Zain, Hisham, every goddamn rishta aunty. This is about you and what you want. It’s about doing what is right for you in this moment, regardless of what anyone else expects of you.”