Meghna’s shoulders grew tense.
There were times when it almost felt easy to talk to Karthik. To be around him. And then there were times like this. When he was brusque. Dismissive. And rude.
At least she only had to put up with it for the length of the engagement. Then she’d never have to see him again.
A tense silence settled over the two of them, broken only by the sounds of other people stepping onto the roof. A cacophony of voices mid-conversation carried over on the wind. Meghna breathed a sigh of relief. Marianne’s retirement party had begun.
—
Once everyone said their goodbyes and the party came to a close, Karthik realized he’d spent all that time worrying for nothing. Everyone had loved Meghna. Of course they had. She’d been sparkling and funny and kind. He was quickly learning that that was just her natural state of being. And she’d fielded every question about their relationship deftly.
Several of the executives who would be on the selection panel for Marianne’s old position had asked how the two of them had met. Asimple question, but Karthik had almost sweat through his shirt. Thankfully, Meghna had answered with ease.
“Our parents, if you can believe it,” she’d said with a laugh and a wave of her hand. “We didn’t even know anything about each other. And neither of us ever thought we’d go for an arranged setup, but you know, arranged introductions like this worked for all my aunts and uncles. I figured it couldn’t do any harm.” She’d shot Karthik a wide smile, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.
His skin had sparked at the touch. Like he was a kid again, shuffling across the carpet in socks.
“Little did I know,” she’d continued, “that I’d end up meeting the love of my life.” Everyone hadawww’d appropriately in response and left the encounter with her thoroughly charmed.
By the end, no one had any reason to suspect that they were anything but an engaged couple in love. Before leaving, Marianne had even leaned toward him and whispered, “This one’s a keeper.” And Karthik hadn’t been able to do anything but smile and nod in response. Meghna so clearly was. He was the one with the problems. The one who was so decidedlynota keeper.
And if Meghna hadn’t figured that out by now, she would surely realize it once they were done with dinner at his parents’ house. Once she met his father. The spitting image of what Karthik would look like in thirty years.
He was dreading the two of them meeting and had done his best to put it off, but once his mother had learned that Meghna would be in the city, she’d insisted on making them dinner. They’d met only briefly in Dallas, and she wanted to spend more time getting to know her future daughter-in-law. Karthik hadn’t seen a way around it.
He sighed and followed Meghna into the elevator, out of the restaurant, and onto the sidewalk. They stood there for a moment, facing each other awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.
Karthik put his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, was checking on myphone earlier. I couldn’t find any tickets for something on Broadway, but there’s a matinee performance Off-Broadway that we could go to. We’d have to leave straight from there to go to my parents’ house, but it might be—”
Meghna shook her head, her smile tight and small. “That’s okay. You don’t have to do that. I was thinking I’d just go shopping for a bit.”
He paused, a little confused. She’d seemed interested when he’d mentioned going to see a show before, but maybe she had changed her mind. He waited a moment to see if she wanted him to come along, but after a few seconds of silence, he could tell no invitation was coming. He cleared his throat, gave her the address for his parents’ house, and left, each of them going their separate ways.
When it was time for dinner, they met a block away from his childhood home, just like they had planned, and walked to the house together. As soon as Karthik opened the front door, the most inviting and comforting smell washed over him: basmati rice, curry leaves, turmeric, and fried onions. He could already tell his mother had made mutton biryani. His absolute favorite.
Karthik showed Meghna to the kitchen table. His mother jumped up to hug them, beaming with joy. His father was surprisingly also pleasant, and expressed his congratulations on their engagement. They all took their seats and began serving themselves from the large bowl of steaming rice in the center of the table.
“Everything looks delicious, Shanti Aunty,” Meghna said to his mother.
“Thank you. This is Karthik’s favorite dish, you know. I’ll send you the recipe so you can learn to make it too.”
Karthik wanted to groan. “I know how to make it, Amma. If I want it, I can make it for myself.”
Meghna smiled and placed her hand on his arm, silently telling him it was fine. “I’d love to have it,” she told his mother. “It’s differentfrom the kind my family makes. You can never have too many biryani recipes.”
His father shot Karthik an approving look, making the hair on the back of Karthik’s neck stand up straight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the receiving end of a look like that from his father. He didn’t like it.
“My wife told me you’re a teacher,” Karthik’s father said to Meghna. “I am too. I teach at NYCU medical school.”
Karthik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his dad couldn’t go a few seconds without bringing up his work.
“That’s great,” Meghna said warmly.
His father started explaining all the ins and outs of his research, his latest paper, and the grant proposal he was working on. “I always thought Karthik would be a doctor too,” he said. “But he just never had the interest. He would have been—”
“You should try some raita,” his mother interrupted, passing it along to Meghna. “The biryani can get too spicy on its own.”
A muscle twitched near his father’s jaw. It was probably imperceptible to Meghna or a stranger, but not to him. Karthik had learned to look for it. In the past that tic would have meant that an angry outburst was imminent, but somewhere along the way his father’s temper had mostly dissolved into neglect. Disinterest.
