“Carmen is from Colombia, and Marley and I are both from Germany,” Atlas said. “We’ve been best friends since we were kids. I moved here about three years ago for work, and this woman,” she squeezed Carmen’s hand, “is the best thing that happened to me in Canada.”
“How long have you two been together?” I asked, genuinely curious despite my nervousness.
“Two years next month,” Carmen said, her face lighting up. “Atlas swept me off my feet at a salsa dancing class.”
“You should have seen her,” Atlas laughed. “She was so confident on the dance floor, but the moment I asked her out for coffee afterward, she turned into a stuttering mess.”
“I did not stutter,” Carmen protested, but she was smiling.
“You absolutely did. But it was so adorable.”
Watching them together was strange and fascinating. They had this easy intimacy, this comfortable way of teasing each other that spoke of deep affection and genuine friendship alongside their romantic relationship.
“Ihr seid ja völlig verrückt nacheinander… Mensch, da kann man ja die anderen nur bemitleiden,” Marley said.
“Es ist nicht meine Schuld, dass du Pech in Beziehungen hast,” Atlas replied, chuckling.
“What are you two plotting over there?” Carmen asked.
“Marley is just jealous,” Atlas said. “I mean, it’s not my fault you’re miserable,” she added with a smile at Marley, whose face was in a grin.
“She is?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Yes, Marley’s what you might call a serial romantic. She falls hard and fast, sweeps women off their feet with her charm and aura, then gets bored and moves on to the next conquest.”
“I do not get bored,” Marley protested, though she was smiling. “I just… have high standards.”
“Mm-hmm,” Atlas said sceptically. “Tell that to Sarah from your volunteering job. Or Maria from the coffee shop. Or that girl you met on Feeld.”
The number of names Atlas casually listed unsettled me. Something twisted in my chest. It made no sense. I barely knew her.
“What about you, Kelechi?” Carmen asked, clearly trying to change the subject and spare Marley further teasing. “Are you seeing anyone?”
The question hit me unexpectedly, and I went cold. I stealthily glanced at Marley and saw her go very still, her attention focused entirely on me.
“Actually,” my mouth felt dry, “my parents have… arranged someone. I’m supposed to get married when I go back home.”
The words sounded strange here, so out of place.
“That’s exciting!” Carmen exclaimed. “What kind of person is he?”
I noticed Marley’s expression change. Something subtle shifted in her face, a kind of shuttering that made my chest feel tight.
“He… he’s a good man,” I said, the words feeling increasingly hollow. “He’s successful and educated, from a good family. Everything my parents wanted.”
“Arranged marriage?” Atlas asked. “That’s still common back in Nigeria?”
“Very common,” I confirmed.
“And how do you feel about that?” Carmen asked gently.
I stared down at my glass.
“I think… I think I’m supposed to feel grateful,” I said finally. “He’s everything I should want.”
“But what do you actually want?” Atlas asked, and I could see why she and Marley were such good friends. They both had this way of asking questions that cut straight to the heart of things.
I looked around the table—at Atlas and Carmen’s easy intimacy, the dance floor, the women laughing around us, and at Marley, who was staring down at her drink and avoiding my gaze.
