Chapter 18
The following Tuesday, Karthik was at his mother’s house for their usual weekly dinner. They exchanged the normal pleasantries and played a few rounds of cards, but the headache roaring through Karthik’s brain made it difficult to concentrate. He lost every hand until his mother finally took pity on him and ducked into the kitchen to fetch the food.
Karthik waited until she left the room, then closed his eyes. Meghna had never responded to his text message. He assumed she had gotten home safely after the wedding, but he didn’t know. He rubbed his temples.
If she had reached Dallas safely and hadn’t said anything, that meant she was avoiding him. He should have expected that. It had only been a few days since he’d broken off their engagement. But it wasn’t like their relationship had ever been real. It wasn’t like she had ever had feelings for him. Had ever felt half of what he felt for her.
His mother returned with two plates, placing the one with an absurd amount of rice and curry in front of him. He shook his head good-naturedly and was about to take a bite when his mother’s voice suddenly pierced the air.
“Dad’s moving back to India,” she said.
Karthik’s gaze snapped to his mother. “What?”
His mother lifted her napkin and dabbed a corner of her mouth. “Dad’s decided to move back to India,” she repeated calmly.
Karthik set his fork on the table. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
When his mother had texted him earlier today and asked him to stop by the house, Karthik hadn’t thought much about it. He had planned on checking in, hearing how she was doing, and maybe poking around for some news about his dad. He hadn’t expected this.
“You’re moving to India?” Karthik asked in disbelief.
“No,” his mother said. She squinted, staring at his plate. “Do you not like the chicken? I tried Renu Aunty’s recipe instead of my normal one, and I think the gravy has too much coconut. I have biryani in the freezer. I could defrost that.”
Karthik’s brain was buzzing. He could hardly make sense of what his mother was saying. Was she moving to India or wasn’t she?
“What do you mean?” he asked.
But instead of helping with his confusion, his mother just looked at him with concern. “I can defrost the biryani,” she said slowly. “If you’d rather have that instead.”
Karthik shook his head. “No, this is fine, I meant … You just said Dad’s decided to move.”
“Yes. But I’m not moving with him.”
Okay. Nothing made sense now. He had thought that the news of his dad would shake her as badly as it had shaken Karthik. But this whole time, she had been calm. Unfazed. Unbothered. Or at least, that was how she had seemed. Now it almost sounded like …
“Amma, are you leaving Dad?”
A spark of surprise lit his mother’s eyes. “Yes. That’s what I was just saying.”
A Why? almost left his mouth, but he held it in. He knew why she would leave his dad. He supported it, even. Had hoped for it. He’d just never thought that his mother would actually do it. That she would actually walk away from the marriage. That she would end things.
And how was this the first time she was bringing it up? He’d had no idea that she’d even thought about this. Not since he’d mentioned it during their fight all those years ago.
“I didn’t want to burden you with any of this,” his mother said. “But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You dad wasn’t always like this. Before we moved here, he was different, but then … things changed. It was slow. Gradual. I used to think everything might return to the way it had been, but now I know that’s not going to happen.” His mother paused, then looked at him with an expression Karthik couldn’t quite decipher, almost as if she was checking that he was doing okay. Convinced by whatever she must have seen on his face, she continued.
“You know Chandra Aunty’s a lawyer? I’ve been meeting with her to discuss options, and I think … Well, she thinks I could keep the house. I don’t think your dad would want it anyway, and I could stay here, or sell it and go someplace else, or—”
“If you want the house, we’ll make sure you get it,” Karthik said. “But if you don’t, you can stay with me. For as long as you want.”
His mother shook her head. “You say that now, but once you’re married, things will change.” A small smile crept over her face. “I don’t think Meghna would want me around constantly.”
“Meghna won’t be around.” Karthik flinched. He’d planned to break that news to his mother tomorrow night. After the most important interview of his career.
“Did … did something happen?” his mother asked, concern heavy in her voice.
Karthik held back a sigh. The cat was out of the bag now, so he might as well get it over with. “We broke up,” he said flatly.
“What? Why?”
“We just want different things. And I can’t …” He broke off, his throat suddenly tight. “I can’t be what she wants.”
His mother frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Karthik rubbed his forehead. He wished he’d had more time to prepare. To come up with some explanation. Right now, all he could think of was … the truth. “Meghna wants a partner. Someone who listens to her. And supports her. And encourages her. And loves her. And …”
“And you can’t be that person?”
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t.”
Karthik’s mother was silent for a moment. She opened her mouth to say something, then subtly shook her head, taking a bite of her food instead. Karthik tentatively picked his fork back up. Was that it? His mother didn’t have any more questions for him? She was just going to accept that things between him and Meghna were over? That they were done?
He swallowed, his unease growing. How was his mother so calm? How was she completely fine with the fact that he’d never see Meghna again? Never hear her laugh or listen to her describe another musical? Never get to read another one of her ridiculous T-shirts?
He shoveled a spoonful of rice and chicken into his mouth. The flavors burst across his tongue, but he barely registered them. He waited a second, then cleared his throat.
“Could you not talk to Meghna’s parents about this? At least, not yet. She’s planning on telling them tomorrow and it’s probably best if they hear it from her.”
His mother looked up, her gaze careful and assessing. “Okay,” she finally said. “Meghna’s mom called about venues, but I’ll just wait a few days before I get back to her.”
“Thank you.” He took another bite. “When, uh, when is Dad leaving?”
Hurt flashed across his mother’s face, and then all trace of emotion was wiped clean. “I … I think he’s already left. But you’ll have to ask him.”
Karthik nodded. There was a fat chance of that happening. Everything within him rebelled at the thought of talking to his father, but he’d figure that out later.
After they finished their meal, Karthik excused himself. He still had some last-minute preparation he wanted to finish before his re-interview with the panel tomorrow. He hugged his mother goodbye, but held on a little longer than normal.
“You know I’m here for you,” he said. “For whatever you need. I … I’ve wanted this for you for a while, but I never expected …”
“I know,” his mother said softly. “And I’m sorry. About Meghna.”
He smiled ruefully. “Me too.” After a shared look of pain and understanding, he left.
After a full day of work, Meghna sat on the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees. She read over everything she had written yesterday, then opened the Excel spreadsheet she’d worked on one afternoon and never opened again.
Months ago, when she’d gone to New York for the retirement party, Karthik had mentioned the idea of getting an MFA. She’d been hesitant. Though her mother may have finally conceded that engineering was out of the picture, she still frequently implored Meghna to consider grad school so that she could do something “professional.”
Her mother didn’t mean to be hurtful. But a lifetime of hearing those comments had made Meghna tense up at any mention of further education. She’d always dismissed the idea out of hand. She’d never once thought about going back to school to work on her writing. Not until Karthik had brought it up.
Her breath caught, and a sharp pang shot through her. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about Karthik. At least not too much. But now she couldn’t help but replay that conversation. They’d been talking about where they would live after the wedding. And she’d said New York. Not that it had been real. They’d just been practicing what they would tell people.
But days later, she’d thought about actually moving to New York. About how she’d always wanted to do it, but never made any real plans. That night, she’d started researching, creating a list of MFA programs in the city.
She read through that list now. Most required that she submit a sizable writing sample, and thankfully, she had one. If she kept working on it at this pace, she’d be able to finish it in time for this year’s application cycle. Maybe that was what this play had been meant for all along.
She was opening her calendar to add some deadlines when a knock on the door took her by surprise. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, and she was shocked to see her father standing outside, cradling a stack of Tupperware containers in his arms.
She’d purposefully skipped out on last night’s family dinner, unsure if she could be around her parents and not spill everything. How she and Karthik were over. How the engagement was through. How she’d failed. And let them down. Again.
“Dad,” she said, ushering him inside. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.” She took a few of the containers from him and walked toward the kitchen. He hadn’t called or texted. And her parents never showed up out of the blue. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine, beta. Fine.” He followed her, opening her fridge and putting everything away. “Your mother’s working late tonight and she left me with clear instructions. She made extra food yesterday, thinking you were coming, and I was told to pack it up and bring it here.” He smiled. “Between you and me, I was also instructed to phrase it in a way that would make you feel guilty for canceling last minute, but I never promised to do that. I’m sure you were busy. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all, but I’ve learned to always follow your mother’s directions.” He winked. “And I can never pass up a chance to see my favorite daughter.”
Meghna gave him a smile, but despite her father’s disclaimer, guilt swirled in her gut. She’d kept so much from her parents. Lied to them repeatedly. And here her father was, being so kind and understanding on top of everything. It was almost too much for her to take. Her eyes pricked, tears beginning to form.
Her father frowned. “Meghna, what happened? What’s wrong?”
The tiny bit of control she had over her composure slipped, and a sob escaped before she could help it. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. Clearly. Which her father seemed to understand, though he didn’t press. He just waited, his eyebrows knit in concern, as she caught her breath.
“Karthik and I,” she started. “We’re not, we’re …” She shook her head, stopping herself before the rest of it came tumbling out. She’d promised Karthik that she wouldn’t say anything before his interview. And she didn’t want to break her word.
“We’re just very different people,” she finished.
Her father leaned against the kitchen counter, his mouth twisting into a frown. “In what way?”
Meghna raised her hands, floundering for a moment. “We’re not … I don’t … I’m not sure that Karthik … I’m not sure he’s ready to get married.”
She heaved out a deep breath. There. It wasn’t the whole truth, but that was as close as she could get to it tonight.
Her father regarded her thoughtfully, his gaze soft. Reflective. He was quiet for a minute, then said, “I know your mother and I have told you the story about how we met.”
Despite her poor mood, Meghna almost smiled at that understatement. Her parents had shared their love story so often that Meghna had almost committed it to memory. Her mother had been the ambitious, loud, high achiever in engineering school and her father the quiet, shy student who’d asked her for help. After many study sessions, and despite their differences in culture and language and background, the two had fallen in love.
“But I don’t know if we’ve ever shared all of it,” her father continued. “We’ve told the short version. The one where everything works out in the end. Because ultimately it did. But when we were in the middle of it …” He gave a small shake of his head. “Your mother was always clear about our relationship. About what it was. Where it could go. She told me from the very beginning that we had to end things once we graduated.”
Meghna’s mouth almost fell open in shock. Her father was right. They’d never told her this version of the story.
“Your mother had a lot of dreams. She wanted to move abroad. Attend graduate school in the UK or the States. And she didn’t want to get married. She didn’t want to account for a husband. She didn’t want to factor one in or give up her plans for him.” His lips quirked, his expression growing fond. “I understood that. I understood her fears. But I still hoped. I always hoped for more. I tried to show her that I wouldn’t hold her back. That marriage may have been like that for so many of the women we knew, for so many of the women in our families, but it didn’t have to be like that for us.
“I’d secretly hoped that she would change her mind. That she’d be willing to tell our families about us. That she’d take a risk. Give us a chance to make things work. But then graduation came and … she was direct. To the point. She ended things the way she’d always said she would. She got into a graduate program in Texas, and I had a job offer close to my family. I moved to Chennai. She moved to the U.S. And I thought that was it.”
A small, rueful smile crossed his face. “I cried almost every day for a month. And my parents didn’t understand what was happening. They didn’t understand why I refused every proposal they had for me. Why I refused to even meet any of them. But the thought of marrying someone else … I couldn’t fathom it. I was still so in love with your mother.
“And then, months later, on a completely normal Tuesday, your mother showed up at our house. I still remember what she was wearing. A white salwar kameez with bright blue dots. A blue dupatta draped around her shoulders. Her long dark hair in a single braid down her back.” He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “This brave, bold woman marched right into my family’s household and just said, ‘My name is Radhika and I’m in love with your son.’”
Her father’s voice was shaky. Rich with emotion. And tears flooded Meghna’s vision, making everything a bit blurry. “She looked right at me and said, ‘Akshay, I made a mistake. You are my jaan. You are my life, and if you love me too, I need you to move to the U.S. with me.’” He laughed. “Even in the middle of a heartfelt apology, she was demanding. Intense. And I’d never loved her more. She called me ‘jaan’ for the first time that night. I didn’t know what it meant, but then she told me. Life.”
He shook his head. “It seemed strange to call a person ‘life.’ But your mother explained that when we were apart, she felt like she was living without a piece of her soul. Something necessary for her to breathe. And she never wanted to feel like that again.”
Her father hastily wiped a tear from his eye. “I thought I understood it then, but now, after years of marriage … I understand it so much more. When your mother smiles, I can feel it. Deep in my chest. And when she’s not happy, when she’s hurting, it’s like I’m hurting too. We’re different from each other. In so many ways. But I would never want to be apart from her. She is my jaan. My life. And when you feel that way about someone, the hard things, the things that make you so different, they’re worth working through.”
Meghna swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. She so badly wanted to feel this way about someone. And if Karthik had been willing to give their relationship a real chance, if he had been willing to try, maybe they could have worked through things. Put their differences aside. Found a path forward. One day, maybe they would have felt this way about each other. Called each other “jaan.”
But Karthik wasn’t interested in anything real. He’d made that perfectly clear.
Her father watched her, a faint note of hesitation crossing his face. “And I know your mother can be hard to understand sometimes. She expresses her love differently. We can both see that you’re … content. With your job. But we want more than that for you. We want you to be excited and passionate about what you do. And while I can see that engineering would never have been that for you, your mother is a little more … single-minded. Her work has given her that kind of joy, and she can’t imagine that everyone doesn’t feel the same. But ultimately, she just wants you to be happy, beta. We both do.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She gave him a hug, then reheated the leftovers her mother had sent, inviting her dad to stay for dinner. As they ate, Meghna debated whether she would share her news about applying for an MFA. She’d planned on waiting until things were final, until she’d been accepted somewhere. But maybe she could share the news earlier. Maybe her father was right. All this time, she’d thought her parents were unhappy because she’d failed to live up to some unreachable standard, but maybe they just wanted her to be happy. Maybe they’d be excited for and proud of her if they saw she was pursuing something she loved.
After her father left, she turned back to her computer, a small kernel of hope growing as she filled out her first application.