My father placed his arm around my shoulder and held me as I cried into his shirt. “I know it has been tough on you these last couple months, Leila,” he began. “I know your ammi can be a little . . . pushy.” I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked at him with teary eyes.

“A little?” I said, with a cracked voice. “Abba, she made me go see a matchmaker!”

“Ya Allah!” He covered his face with his hand. “I told her to forget that matchmaker! She is of no use to us. Setting you up with that faltu boy!” He shook his head.

“Sajid? How did you know about him?”

“Beti, I called and spoke with him before you did. Crazy boy kept giggling like a madman!”

“But he never even mentioned that he talked to you . . .”

“Arey, he was so medicated on who knows what that he probably didn’t even remember.”

I let out a small laugh. “You could’ve at least warned me, Abba!” I said, wiping my eyes.

“I trust you, Leila. I know you will make the right choice,” he said. I looked down, wishing in that moment that I shared my father’s belief in me. “You know, beti, your mother just wants what is best for you.”

I shook my head. “Abba, how can she expect me to find someone in such a short amount of time? It’s just . . . it’s just not possible.” I dropped my face into my palms.

My father sat there quietly while I continued to cry. After a few minutes, he got up, went into the bathroom, and brought back a box of tissues. As I wiped my face, he cleared his throat and began talking.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your mother and I met, Leila?” I took in a choppy breath and shook my head. “Ahhh.” He cleared his throat and smiled. “When I was twenty-four years old, I found out I had been accepted into a master’s program at UCLA. I had only four weeks before I was supposed to leave, and your dada and dadi’s one request was for me to be married before I left.”

“Wh-why did they want you to be married so young?” I said, sniveling.

“It was not too young in those days, Leila. They were worried about my being so far away. They wanted to make sure that someone would be there to take care of me.” He looked at me, patting my knee. “You know, in the weeks leading to my departure, they showed me pictures of four different girls.” He held up his hand. “But I refused every single one,” he stated proudly.

“H-how come?”

“One was too tall. One too thin. Another had a large nose.” He folded each finger one by one, and laughed. “To be honest, Leila, I didn’t know what I was looking for. That is until they showed me your mother’s picture.” He smiled at the memory. “She had a very nice nose.”