Mending Broken Hearts

3. Best Laid Plans

I didn't apologize for my behavior. 

Why should I have? 

And so it was supposed to have been over between us. Then what in the world did this bouquet mean?

"Oh MashaAllah, what beautiful flowers. I always knew Jawad was such an amazing boy", my mother's reverent voice joined that of my sister. 

I swung around to face them, "He is not sweet, or amazing..."

Suddenly, Ami's smile disappeared. She straightened her back, sent Maliha away on some mundane task, and asked me to sit down. Confirming the fear that had been sinking my heart ever since I talked to my parents about their other daughter and her college classmate Hasan. 

See, Hasan came from a very well off Indian family. His dad was a banker and straddled the business world in both Mumbai and Chicago, despite their family being based in the US for the last two decades. And Hasan and his brother, both Harvard graduates, owned a tech start-up company that had taken the world of cybersecurity by storm. 

Hasan was absolutely smitten by my sister, and she with him. 

All of which my parents were ecstatic about as was I, until I took that happy moment to remind them that their eldest daughter would not be marrying the man they had chosen for her. The jubilation immediately died down, a frown had appeared on my mother's face, and a solemn expression on my father's. 

It didn't take long for me to realize why.

"We spoke to Jawad's family. He is very sorry for speaking to you rudely that day. But you're not breaking this engagement over one unfortunate interaction. You have to learn to be flexible as well, Madi"

Flexible. Code word for following your husband's orders. 

I could have argued my way out of that engagement. Every brain cell was rearing to go. But I wasn't naïve. My engagement ending wasn't about me, it was about my sister and her new in-laws to be. 

"Why don't you just say that you don't want Hasan's family questioning my broken engagement? Or that you are afraid it will reflect badly on all of you?", I shook my head in disappointment, but my mother only stared back at me. 

"Tumhari choti behan hai woh. Kyun uss ki zindagi tabah karna chahti ho?" (She's your younger sister. Why do you want to destroy her life?)

Aur meri zindagi? I wanted to ask, but my mother wasn't done yet. (And my life?)

Her voice softened just a bit, "Besides, I spoke to Jawad myself. He said it was all a misunderstanding, and it won't happen again," she brought her hand up to my cheek. "He really likes you beta, you just need to stop being so sensitive"

Stop being sensitive. Coded language for keeping quiet and accepting whatever the world handed to you. 

As the oldest of three I had been like a third parent to my siblings. Neither of my parents had any experience with the US schooling system or college applications. So, I was the one who had stayed up past midnight many times checking my sibling's homework, or fixing their college essays. And when I started driving, taking them to school and all their extra curriculars.

I did it all without complaining, because I was their older sister, and this was a duty to my family.

Yet, the demands on me never stopped.