I held my breath, watching her scan through each folder. The closer she edged to the end of the row, the fewer folders were left, and she had yet to pull one out completely. She finally pushed the drawer shut and leaned back in her chair. She looked at me and my mother intently, her pencil-drawn brows pinched together. For a few moments, no one said a word. The steady ticking of the clock kept time to the thumping in our chests. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Unfortunately, I do not have a match for you at this time,” Seema aunty said solemnly. Her words reverberated through the room.

“What do you mean no match? How can that be?” My mother turned toward me. “Leila wants a traditional, straightforward husband. You read her description.”

I looked down at my hands, trying not to make eye contact.

“You are telling me there is not a single person in your filing cabinet who could be a match?” my mother cried, lines of concern engraved across her forehead.

“Not according to what she is looking for.”

My mother looked like she was about to cry.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Abid. I know this is not what you want to hear, but not everyone will necessarily have a match for them.”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” my mother stammered, confused.

“I will keep an eye out in case something comes up. But you must understand, it is not so simple. Sometimes people are unable to find someone who is a good match.”

“So what happens in those cases?” I asked, avoiding my mother’s gaze and trying to keep my voice steady.

“If no good match is found”—Seema aunty flung her hands out casually—“well then, my advice is to not get married.” My mother gasped in horror. Seema aunty looked at her and then over at me sympathetically. “I am just saying, Mrs. Abid, sometimes the duties required in marriage are not right for everyone. In those cases, it may be better to remain unmarried than go the more traditional route—”

“Remain unmarried!” My mother jumped up with disgust. “She is my daughter.” She pointed in my direction as I sat there confounded. “Marriage is half her deen! What do you mean to say she will not marry?”

“Mrs. Abid, please.” Seema aunty attempted to defuse the situation. “I’m not saying she will not get married, but keep in mind, marriage is only one aspect of one’s faith.” She paused and popped another chum chum in her mouth before turning toward me. “With the divorce rates rising these days, even in our own communities, I think it is wiser to wait until a good match comes up. Someone who shares your values.” She lifted her brows. “In the meantime,” she continued, “as I said, I’ll keep my eye out in case something comes up. I just don’t have anyone at this moment.” She wiped her fingers on her pants, leaving a syrupy trail on the gray wool, and held out her hand. “It was very nice meeting you, Leila.” I shook it, speechless. She then nodded toward my mother and walked us to the door.