Chapter 32
Manisha stood in the hallway of her parents’ house, her fingers gripping her phone as she reread Sunil’s email from earlier that morning.
Isha, I’ve been thinking about you so much. I can’t wait to meet you, and I’m so happy you agreed to give us a shot. You can tell me anything.
Her heart raced as she typed her response.
I know I can.
She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, the weight of what she was about to say settling heavily on her chest. Taking a deep breath, she knew that what she was about to confess would change everything between them.
She stood before the full-length mirror, assessing her reflection. She reached out to wipe away the dust that had collected on the frame’s surface.
“Oh well, I see I missed a spot for Mr. Spic and Span,” her mother said, appearing in the doorway.
“I think you mean Mr. Clean, Mom. Tell me again why we need to be there so early?” Manisha tugged on her black-and-gold sari.
It was a one-of-a-kind piece she had picked up in New York at a Kynah pop-up, one of her favourite Indian clothing stores.
Somehow, it felt tighter than when she had purchased it six months ago.
But she took that as a sign that she was on the right path toward healing.
Half a year ago, she was miserable in a loveless relationship, pushing herself too hard in an unfulfilling job.
Now, she was weeks into a comforting routine of deep-fried bread and other delicious homemade food, on her way to finding love.
When her mother didn’t answer, Manisha sighed and remarked, “I guess being Indian means you follow your own set of rules and never show up on time. It’s either ridiculously early or shamefully late, yeah?
” She watched her mother adjust the gold embroidery on her newly purchased pink two-piece suit, looking effortlessly elegant as always.
The CoverGirl lipstick she wore, probably long expired, still added a touch of glamour that only seemed to emerge on special occasions.
“No! We will show up on time and leave on time,” her mother declared firmly. “The longer you stay, the crazier things get. Right?” She turned to Manisha’s father for some backup.
“I’ll be looking for crazier things from my seat at the bar,” he grinned as he stepped next to Manisha’s mom.
Manisha couldn’t suppress a chuckle at her mom’s words. It was true—Indian events often operated on “Indian time,” but her mom was determined to break that stereotype.
They made their way out of the house and piled themselves into the SUV.
“What do you mean by ‘crazier,’ though?” Manisha asked, buckling in and starting the ignition.
“Drinking. More drinking. Parking lot fights. And more drinking. No way are we staying for all that nonsense. We go at the right time and come back at a reasonable hour,” her mother said with finality.
Manisha raised an eyebrow. “Parking lot fights? Mom, this isn’t WrestleMania.”
She could hear her dad chuckling from the back seat.
“Chup, or I’ll show you what is Wrestle-maniac,” her mom teased, her eyes twinkling.
Manisha laughed at that, fairly certain her mom’s slip-up was on purpose this time. She carefully steered the car, trying to adjust the weight of her heavily beaded outfit, struggling to get comfortable. She could never understand how women managed to look graceful in these things.
“We’re running late,” her mother reminded her, glancing at her watch.
“Mom, trust me. We’re not late,” Manisha replied with a confident smile, though she wasn’t entirely sure herself.
When they arrived at the banquet hall twenty minutes later, the parking lot was unsurprisingly half empty.
“Look at how early we are!” Manisha exclaimed. She dropped her parents off at the front and parked the car around the back. As she made her way to the front of the building, her phone buzzed. Sunil.
Take your time, Isha. I’m here. Waiting patiently.
Manisha’s skin sprouted goosebumps. Who needed magical thongs when she had Sunil’s magical words?
Manisha didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer, but she needed to figure out precisely what to do or if there was anything she could do. She needed to tell Deena.
“Manisha Patel!” a voice boomed, causing her to spin around.
Dr. Rocky strode toward her with the confidence of someone who owned the world, his sleek Mercedes sparkling behind him.
Dressed in a bespoke suit that exuded sophistication, he looked like the very image of the Prince Charming (the uncle version) she’d always dreamed of.
As he drew closer, Manisha’s nerves kicked in. She tried to maintain her composure, but her heart sped up, making it hard to keep the calm she was desperately trying to project.
“What are you doing here, Dr. Rocky?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray her anxiety.
He flashed her a smile that could light up a room, and real or imagined, in that moment, everything appeared a little bit brighter.
“My daughter’s seeing the groom’s brother, so I’m here to show my support,” he replied, his dimples looking even more adorable in the sunset.
They started to walk toward the banquet hall together.
“You’re not going to spill the beans to my mom about our appointment, are you?” Manisha asked, half joking but clearly anxious.
“Of course not, Manisha,” Dr. Rocky replied, his tone reassuring.
“Good, because I haven’t even told her that I’m a ticking baby time bomb,” she added with a half-hearted laugh.
Dr. Rocky chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Is that how you see it? I hope you didn’t get that impression from our appointment. If you did, then you’ve misunderstood.”
Manisha laughed even more awkwardly, feeling a bit of tension ease from her shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t remember much from that day, except for all of the, um, options you listed,” she said, lifting an eyebrow in playful skepticism.
Dr. Rocky smiled reassuringly. “I certainly didn’t mention anything about a ‘ticking baby time bomb,’ Manisha. I’m not sure where that idea came from. What I was trying to convey is that you have options, and I just wanted to make sure you know all your possibilities.”
He glanced around, then leaned in a little closer.
“How about you come back for another appointment? I know it was a lot to take in, but we can go over each option in detail and you can ask anything you want. We’ll guide you through it all.
” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “And as I said before, there’s one option I’m particularly optimistic about.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s here tonight. ”
Suddenly, Dr. Rocky was moonlighting as a matchmaker.
“The Prince Charming option,” Manisha said. “Well, that’s why I wore my best sari.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Manisha, just like your mom, and I know your prince is out there.”
Manisha clutched her phone a little tighter.
As they entered the banquet hall, Dr. Rocky leaned in with a grin. “Here’s an insider tip: The secret to the best food is to get here early and work your way through the buffet backwards. Desserts first, then the appetizers.”
Manisha beamed, feeling a warm sense of camaraderie with her doctor.
She followed him into the grand hall, her smile widening at the sight of many vibrant saris.
It always amazed her how much effort went into draping the perfect sari, but for nights like this, it was always worth it—especially for the food.
She waved to her dad from across the room, feeling a surge of excitement as she walked toward her family, ready to enjoy the festivities ahead.