But when she goes back into the dining room, Karan is standing with a bouquet of roses. His laptop is open on the dining table and there are pictures of them flashing on the screen. Right now, it’s one of when they were eleven years old, in front of a roller coaster at Six Flags, strawberry Popsicles dripping in their hands.

“Hey, what are you do—”

“Natasha, I love you. I always have. I know things have been tough for you lately, but I’m here for you. . . .”

The rest of Karan’s words blur into the background. They become one with the straw tablecloths from India and the Peruvian brass candlesticks. She picks up bits of him saying he wants to be with her, that he always has.

Her throat becomes dry and tight. She watches the entire moment as if she’s suspended above it, somewhere near the spinning ceiling fan.

The words Karan is about to say linger over them. Panic seizes every inch of her chest. She takes a deep breath and tells herself to stay calm. Her nerves won’t have to ruin the moment if she refuses to let them.

Karan reaches into his right pants pocket and kneels down. “Natasha, will you marry me?”

There it is. The question she’s heard so many times in movies and shows. Even though she figured it would someday be asked of her, for some reason, she doesn’t feel the way she thought she would. Instead of excitement, there’s a pang of fear, and something else, something she can’t quite recognize.

As Karan opens a slim velvet box, she sees that he even went to the effort to get a box that would be concealed in his pants. Her gaze shifts to the round sapphire on a platinum band. He knows she wouldn’t like a diamond. Hot tears spring to her eyes. She doesn’t deserve someone so thoughtful. She never did.

“I, um, I . . .” Natasha stammers.

Karan shifts his knee. For some reason, the hope on his face pushes Natasha to give him the only thing she can: honesty.

“No,” she says, her voice clear. “I can’t.”

“Excuse me? What?” Karan shakes his head as though he’s been woken up mid-dream and is now trying to process reality.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says. “I can’t marry you. There’s no way I’m ready for that now.”

“Why are you saying this?” Karan’s face falls, which is all it takes for her to hate herself. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Me? I should ask if you’re kidding! This is totally catching me off guard.”

“That’s sort of the point.” Karan lowers his voice, a sure giveaway that he’s mad.