NOT THE MAN OF MY DREAMS

GRADUATION DAY

"Riaaa! Hurry up! We'll be late!" The sharpness of my mother's voice pierced through the haze of my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. Today, the day I had both dreaded and anticipated, had finally arrived — my graduation day. The five years that had felt like a slow, endless march were at last over.

Before I even knew what a career truly meant, I had been told I would be an architect when I grew up. There was never a moment when I was asked what I wanted. Which university would I attend? Would I remain in the comfort of my hometown, Mumbai, or chase the distant allure of foreign shores like so many of my friends had done? Some had flown to America, others to London, and many more scattered themselves across Europe, chasing the dreams of a different life. But my path had been chosen for me. My parents, with all their well-meaning intentions, had enrolled me in a law school in our hometown. There was no adventure, no departure from the familiar — just the small, well-worn corners of my life: the same streets, the same faces, the same routines. I had missed out on the experience of a real college life — the late-night parties, the drunken laughter, the strangers who would become roommates, and the fleeting romances that seem to define the reckless abandon of youth.

Instead, my life had been confined to the rigid walls of law school, a place where the only company I kept was the quiet hum of textbooks and calls from my long-distance boyfriend. While my friends were out there, exploring the world, living with wild freedom, I had buried myself in a future that felt foreign to me. They had been free—free to make mistakes, to drink too much, to kiss anyone they wanted, to find themselves in the chaos of life. But I, I had spent my early twenties preparing for a life I hadn't chosen — studying for a career I didn't desire, obsessing over my reputation, molding relationships with my future in-laws as if they were delicate contracts to be signed. And all the while, marriage loomed on the horizon like a promise I wasn't sure I was ready to keep.

As the world moved on, my life had been a slow, deliberate march toward something I hadn't yet figured out how to want. I had watched, from a distance, as the best years of my youth slipped away, caught between the weight of expectations and the quiet ache of the unknown.

I descended to the living room, where my parents were already gathered, their excitement palpable. They were both ready, camera in hand, practically vibrating with anticipation. My mother's voice broke the silence, her words infused with that familiar, infectious enthusiasm. "You look stunning, Ria. This dress is so body-hugging, so perfect on you. Come on, put on your cape and hat. I want to take your picture."

I smiled, a little overwhelmed, as I slipped into the final touches of my graduation attire. After what seemed like an endless photo session, full of flashes and smiles, we finally made our way out of the house. The car ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine. My father glanced over at me, his eyes warm with pride, but his words, as always, were few. "I'm so proud of you, Ria. You'll be the first architect in the family."

I gave him a small, appreciative smile, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Papa." He was a man of few words, and for him to say this meant more than I could ever express. And yet, a knot twisted in my stomach. I wasn't sure if law was a future I wanted to chase.

"Ria Mehta!"

The announcement of my name echoed through the hall, snapping me out of my reverie. With a deep breath, I made my way to the stage, the weight of the moment sinking in. As I walked across the stage to receive my degree, I saw my parents beaming from the crowd, sitting next to Ahaan, who, after months of long-distance, was no longer so distant. His presence filled the space with a kind of warmth, his smile so wide and bright that it nearly outshone the stage lights. I couldn't help myself — I mouthed his name, "Ahaan," with a grin that threatened to split my face. My heart raced with the excitement of seeing him again after three long months.

I rushed towards him as soon as I had my degree in hand, eager to close the distance that had felt endless. But as I reached him, his hands gently caught my arms, holding me at bay. He gave me a side hug, leaning in to whisper in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Your parents are right here, Ri."

His words stung more than I expected, the familiar restraint he always showed in public prickling at my vulnerability. Affection, with Ahaan, had always been private — shared in quiet moments behind closed doors. It was always measured, careful, and as much as I understood it, I couldn't deny the ache for something more, something... passionate.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," he said, his voice thick with emotion as we drove back to my house. "You did it! You're finally done with your degree. Now, you can join me in Milan, and we'll take the fashion world by storm. I can't wait for us to move there."

My heart fluttered at his words, excitement swirling within me at the thought of the future he was envisioning for us. But then, as we pulled up outside my house, he paused, his face taking on a mysterious air.

"Wait here, baby. I have a surprise for you," Ahaan said, his voice low, laced with anticipation.

Confused but intrigued, I waited outside as instructed, my thoughts racing. A few moments later, he called me. "Come up to the terrace," he said, his voice thick with excitement.

I stepped into the elevator, curiosity building with every passing floor. When the doors opened, my breath caught in my throat. The terrace was transformed. A pathway of delicate pink and white roses stretched before me, flanked by elegant glass candle holders, each flickering with soft candlelight. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, guiding me like a dream towards the man waiting at the end of the aisle.

Ahaan stood at the end of the aisle, a vision of striking elegance. The sun's golden rays bathed him in a warm glow, casting a soft sheen on his perfectly tanned skin. His dark hair, carefully styled, fell effortlessly into place. The blue blazer he wore clung to his frame with impeccable precision, accentuating the definition of his broad shoulders and lean, muscular build. Every detail, from the tailored fit to the confident posture, seemed to embody a kind of effortless charisma that was impossible to ignore. He appeared as if he had stepped straight out of a dream, standing tall and composed, waiting for the moment that would change everything., a small box in his hand, a sign behind him that read, Will you marry me?

I walked slowly down the path, every step feeling like a moment suspended in time. His eyes never left mine, and as I reached him, he took my hand in his, his fingers warm, trembling slightly as he dropped to one knee.

With a gentle smile, he opened the box, revealing a diamond ring that sparkled like a star. "I've waited five years for this moment," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Ria Mehta, would you do me the honor of marrying me and becoming Ria Chopra?"

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I stared into his. The love I had for him, the life we had built together, all of it bubbled up inside me, and in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place.

"I love you, baby," I whispered, my voice breaking as a smile spread across my face. "Yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

And just like that, the world around us disappeared. It was just the two of us standing on that terrace, surrounded by roses and candles, a promise in the air. My heart was full, my future suddenly clear — I had found the man I was meant to spend forever with.