Zoya
I've bought him an engagement ring. Was that a mistake?
I mean, it's not a girly ring. It's a plain band with a tiny diamond in it, which the guy in the shop talked me into. If Yash doesn't like the diamond, he can always turn it around.
Or not wear it at all. Keep it on his nightstand or in a box or whatever.
Or I could take it back and never mention it. Actually, I'm losing confidence in this ring by the minute, but I just felt bad that he wouldn't have anything. Men don't get the greatest deal out of a proposal. They have to set up the occasion; they have to get down on one knee; they have to ask the question, and they have to buy a ring. And what do we have to do?
Say "yes."
Or "no," obviously.
I wonder what proportion of marriage proposals end in a "yes" and what proportion end in a "no"? I open my mouth automatically to share this thought with Yash-then hastily close it again. Idiot.
"Sorry?" He glances up.
"Nothing!" I beam. "Just... great menu!"
I wonder if he's bought a ring already. I don't mind, either way. On the one hand, it's fabulously romantic if he has. On the other hand, it's fabulously romantic to choose one together.
It's a win-win.
I sip my water and smile lovingly at Yash. We're sitting at a corner table. It's a new restaurant in the town. All black-and-white marble and vintage chandeliers and button-back chairs in pale gray. It's elegant but not showy. The perfect place for a lunchtime proposal. I was wearing a white dress with pink print, leaving my hair left open. I chose to put a bit extra effort into getting ready today, I was going for the doll-y look.
He's looking nervous. He's fiddling with his cuffs and checking his phone and swirling the water round in his glass. As he sees me watching him, he smiles too.
"So."
"So."
It's as though we're speaking in code, skirting around the real issue. I fiddle with my napkin and adjust my chair. This waiting is unbearable. Why doesn't he get it over with?
No, I don't mean "get it over with." Of course, I don't. It's not a vaccination. It's... Well, what is it? It's a beginning. A first step. The pair of us embarking on a great adventure together. Because we want to take on life as a team. Because we can't think of anyone else we'd rather share that journey with. Because I love him and he loves me.
I'm getting misty-eyed already. This is hopeless. I've been like this for days, ever since I realized what he was driving at.
He's quite heavy-handed, Yash. I mean, in a good, lovable way. He's direct and to the point and doesn't play games. (Thank God.) Nor does he land massive surprises on you out of the blue. On my last birthday, he hinted for ages that his present was going to be a surprise trip, which was ideal because I knew what I was going to get. (Keeping the fact aside that he got called for work the last minute, and I flew alone to spend my birthday in the Maldives.... It was actually really fun but it wasn't what was planned.)
So this time, when he began dropping hints, again they weren't exactly subtle indications. They were more like massive signposts plonked in the road: I will be proposing to you soon.
First, he set up this date and called it a "special lunch." Then he referred to a "big question" he had to ask me and half-winked (to which I feigned ignorance, of course). Then he started teasing me by asking if I like his surname, Arora. (As it happens, I do like it. I don't mean I won't miss being Zoya Siddiqui, but I guess I'd be happy to be Mrs. Zoya Arora.)
I almost wish he'd been more roundabout and this was going to be more of a surprise. But, there again, at least I knew to get a manicure.
"So, baby, have you decided yet?" Yash looks up at me with that warm smile of his, and my stomach swoops. Just for an instant, I thought he was being super-clever and that was his proposal.
"Um ..." I look down to hide my confusion.
Of course the answer will be "yes." A big, joyful "yes." I can still hardly believe we've arrived at this place. Marriage. I mean, marriage! In the one and a half years I've known and dated him, I've deliberately avoided the question of marriage, commitment, and all associated subjects (children, houses, sofas, herbs in pots). We don't live together, I've been busy with my job and taking care of Noor's higher studies in England. My girl got herself a scholarship, helping me quite a lot with the expenses.
I knew we were good together. I knew I loved him. I'd seen him at his best (the surprise birthday trip and when I drove over his foot by mistake but he didn't shout at me) and his worst ( he did have a bad temper with people sometimes but no one's perfect.)
He's not the show-offy kind. He's measured and deliberate. Sometimes you think he's not even listening but then he'll come to life so suddenly, you realize he was alert the whole time. Like a lion, half asleep under the tree but ready for the kill. Whereas I'm a bit more of a gazelle, leaping around. We complement each other. It's Nature. (Not in a food-chain sense.)
So I knew, for some time now, he was The One. But I also knew what would happen if I put a foot wrong. In my experience, the word "marriage" is like an enzyme. It causes all kinds of reactions in a relationship, most of the breaking-down kind. Men usually run away from this word.
Like my friend's boyfriend. She just mentioned once and that was it, One mention and he freaked out and said we had to take "a break." A break from what? Until that moment, they were fine. So clearly what he needed a break from was the risk of hearing the word "marriage" again.
Yash is definitely better-looking than any of my friend's boyfriends. (Maybe I'm biased, but I think he's gorgeous.) He works hard as a media analyst, but he's not obsessed. He's not very rich, but who cares? He's energetic and funny and has an uproarious laugh that makes my spirits lift, whatever mood I'm in.
When I look back over our relationship, I don't see a black blot, or a blank space. I see a cheesy music video. A montage, with blue skies and smiles. Happy times. Laughter.
And now we're getting to the climax of the montage. The bit where he kneels down takes a deep breath...
I'm feeling so nervous for him. I want this to go beautifully. I want to be able to tell our children that I fell in love with their father all over again, the day he proposed.
Our children. Our home. Our life.
As I let my mind roll around the images, I feel a release inside me. I'm ready for this. I'm twenty-seven years old and I'm ready. All my grown-up life, I've steered away from the subject of marriage. My friends are the same. It's as though there's been a crime-scene cordon around the whole area: NO ENTRY. You just don't go there, because if you do, you've jinxed it and your boyfriend chucks you.
But now there's nothing to jinx. I can feel the love flowing between us, over the table. I want to grab his hands. He is such a wonderful, wonderful man. I'm so lucky. In forty years when we're both wrinkled, we'll remember today and thank God we found each other. I mean, what were the chances, in this teeming world of strangers? Love is so random. So random. It's a miracle, really...
Oh God, I didn't expect this...I'm blinking. A happy family, my home- that's what I have always wanted.
"Zoya" Yash has noticed my damp eyes. "Hey, Baby. Are you OK? What's up?"
Even though I've been more honest with him than with anyone else, it's probably not a good idea to reveal my entire thought process to him.
"Sorry!" I dab at my eyes. "Nothing. I just wish you didn't have to go."
He is flying off tonight to an assignment in San Francisco. It's three months could be worse-but I'll miss him terribly. In fact, it's only the thought that I'll have a wedding to plan which is distracting me.
"Sweetheart, don't cry. I can't bear it." He reaches out to take my hands. "We'll Skype every day."
"I know." I squeeze his hands back. "I'll be ready."
"Although you might want to remember that, if I'm in my office, everyone can hear what you're saying. Including my boss."
Only a tiny flicker of his eyes gives away the fact that he's teasing me. The last time he was away and we Skyped, I started giving him advice on how to manage his nightmare boss, forgetting that Yash was in an open-plan office and the nightmare boss was liable to walk past at any minute. (Luckily, he didn't.)
"Thanks for that tip." I shrug, equally deadpan.
He grins and grasps my hands more tightly. "I love you." His voice is low and warm and melting. I will never, ever get sick of him saying that.
"Me too."
"In fact, Zoya..." He clears his throat. "I have something to ask you...."
My insides feel as if they're going to explode. My face is a rictus of anticipation while my thoughts are spinning wildly. Oh God... he's doing it.... My whole life changes here.... Concentrate, Zoya... savor the moment.... Shit! What's wrong with my leg?
I stare down at the floor. All of a sudden, I felt nervous and unsure. Do I really want this? Do I really want to marry him? What if I am going to say 'yes' just because I am supposed to?
"Can you give me a minute? " I said before leaving for the washroom. My palms were sweaty.
-He's proposing- I texted Dhara, my best friend.
-Don't tell me you're texting in the middle of a proposal- she replied.
-No, I put him on pause.-
-how? Did he came with that button since manufacture or you got that installed.-
- This isn't a joke, Dhara......I'm nervous.-
-Sorry....Couldn't hold myself- (she still isn't very fond of him.)- Don't worry, calm down. You want this, don't you? ...breathe.-
I took a minute and went back. He's not even checking his phone. He must be as focused on this moment as I am. The most special moment of our lives.
"Sorry about that." I slide into my chair and give him my most loving, receptive smile. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"
Yash smiles back, but I can tell he's lost a bit of momentum. We might need to work back into things gradually. "It's such a special day," I say encouragingly, "Don't you feel that?"
"Absolutely." He nods.
"This place is so lovely." I gesture around. "The perfect place for a... a big talk."
I've left my hands casually on the table, and, as I intended, he takes them between his. He takes a deep breath and frowns.
"Speaking of that, Baby, there's something I wanted to ask." As we meet eyes, his crinkle a little. "I don't think this will come as a massive surprise....."
Oh God, oh God, here it comes.
"Yes?" My voice is a nervous squawk.
"Bread for the table?"
Yash starts in shock and my head jerks up. A waiter has approached so quietly, neither of us noticed him. Almost before I know it, He has dropped my hand and is talking about brown soda bread. I want to whack the whole basket away in frustration. Couldn't the waiter tell? Don't they train them in imminent-proposal spotting?
I can tell Yash has been thrown off track too. Stupid, stupid waiter. How dare he spoil my boyfriend's big moment? But then, I kind of felt relieved, I don't know why. A part of me was thankful and would have appreciated a longer interruption.
"So," I say encouragingly, as soon as the waiter's gone. "You had a question?"
"Well. Yes." He focuses on me and takes a deep breath-then his face changes shape again. I turn round in surprise, to see that another bloody waiter has loomed up. Well, to be fair, I suppose it's what you expect in a restaurant. How's he supposed to propose in these circumstances? How do men do it?
"I think, we are happier together...Tell me. Wll you?"
"Yes!" I nodded, my hand in his. Our eyes mingling in each other as if we didn't need words to communicate.
"You sure? You want this?"
"Yes! With all my heart! YES! I do..I've been waiting for this since ages. I love you." I smiled, he smiled back as we continued to talk without words. Nothing about this proposal was grand, it was sweet, simple, and Like us... He didn't need things to be so grand. We love each other and that's enough.
"I'm so excited to tell Dhara and everybody that we're getting engaged!" I literally chirped..." but, After her marriage okay?"
"What-" His voice is strangled. "What do you mean?"
I suddenly realize why he's upset. Of course. Trust me to spoil everything by jumping in.
"Tell them what?" He's wide-eyed and starey. "Zoya, we're not getting engaged."
"But ..." I look at him uncertainly. "You just proposed to me. And I said yes."
"No, I didn't!" He yanks his hand out of mine.
OK, one of us is going mad here.
"Baby, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." Yash thrust his hands through his hair. "I haven't mentioned marriage or engagement, or anything."
"But ... but that's what you meant! When you ordered the champagne, and you said, 'tell me..Will you', and I said, 'With all my heart, yes. It was subtle! It was beautiful!"
"You...thought I was proposing?"
I'm gazing at him, longing for him to agree, longing for him to feel what I feel. But he just looks baffled, and I feel a sudden pang of dread.
"That's... not what you meant?" My throat is so tight I can barely speak. I can't believe this is happening. "You didn't mean to propose?"
"Zoya, I didn't propose!" he says forcefully. "Full stop!"
Does he have to exclaim so loudly? Heads are popping up with interest everywhere.
"OK! I get it!" I rub my nose with my napkin. "You don't need to tell the whole restaurant."
Waves of humiliation are washing over me. I'm rigid with misery. How can I have got this .....so wrong?
And if he wasn't proposing, then why wasn't he proposing?
"I don't understand." He is talking almost to himself. "I've never said anything, we've never discussed it-"
"You've said plenty!" Hurt and indignation are erupting out of me. "You said you were organizing a special lunch." "
"It is special" he says defensively. "I'm going to San Francisco tomorrow evening."
"And you asked me if I liked your surname! Your surname, Yash!"
"I wasn't serious." Yash looks bewildered. "It was chitchat!"
"And you said you had to ask me a 'big question.'"
"Not a big question." He shakes his head. "A question."
"I heard 'BIG question." "
There's a wretched silence between us. The cloud of happiness has gone.
"What is it, then?" I say at last. "This really important, medium-size question?"
He looks trapped. "It's not important. Forget it."
"Come on, tell me!"
"Well, OK," he says finally. "I was going to ask you what I should do with my air miles. I thought maybe we could plan a trip."
"Air miles?" I can't help lashing out. "You booked a special table and ordered champagne to talk about air miles?"
"No! I mean..." Yash winces. "Baby, I feel terrible about all this. I had absolutely zero idea-"
"But we just had a whole bloody conversation about being engaged!" I can feel tears rising. "I was stroking your hand and saying how happy I was and how I'd thought about this moment for ages. And you were agreeing with me! What did you think I was talking about?"
Yash's eyes are swiveling as though searching for an escape. "I thought you were ... you know. Going on about stuff."
"Going on about stuff?" I stare at him. "What do you mean, 'Going on about stuff' ?" I don't know why, That hurt me more. Knowing that he wasn't going to propose didn't hurt as much as the way he made me sound like an idiot who was expecting him to propose her....after HE was dropping the hints.
He looks even more desperate. "The truth is, I don't always know what you're on about," he says in a sudden confessional rush. "So sometimes I just... nod along."
Nod along?
I stare back at him, stricken. I thought we had a special, unique silent bond of understanding. I thought we had a private code. And all the time he was just nodding along.
Two waiters put our salads in front of us and quickly move away, as though sensing we're not in any mood to talk. I pick up my fork and put it down again. He doesn't even seem to have noticed his plate.
"I bought you an engagement ring," I say, breaking the silence.
"Oh God." He buries his head in his hands.
"It's fine. I'll take it back."
"Zoya..." He looks tortured. "Do we have to ... I'm going away tomorrow. Couldn't we just move away from the whole subject?"
"So, do you ever want to get married?" As I ask the question, I feel a deep anguish inside. A minute ago I thought I was engaged. I'd run the marathon. I was bursting through the finishing tape, arms up in elation. Now I'm back at the starting line, lacing up my shoes, wondering if the race is even on.
"I... God, ..Zoya... I dunno." He sounds beleaguered. "I mean, yes. I suppose so." His eyes are swiveling more and more wildly. "Maybe. You know. Eventually,"
Well. You couldn't get a much clearer signal. Maybe he wants to get married to someone else, one day. But not to me. And suddenly bleak despair comes over me. I believed with all my heart that he was The One. How could I have got it so wrong? I feel as though I can't trust myself on anything anymore.
"Right." I stare down at my salad for a few moments, running my eyes over leaves and slices of avocado and pomegranate seeds, trying to get my thoughts together. "The thing is, Yash, I do want to get married. I want marriage, kids, a house the whole bit. And I wanted them with you. But marriage is kind of a two-way thing." I pause, breathing hard but determined to keep my composure. "So I guess it's good that I know the truth sooner rather than later. Thanks for that, anyway."
"Baby!" says Yash in alarm. "Wait! This doesn't change anything-"
"It changes everything.. If it's not going to happen with us, then I'd rather know now and move on. You know?" I try to smile, but my happy muscles have stopped working. "Have fun in San Francisco. I think I'd better go." Tears are edging past my lashes. I need to leave, quickly. I'll go back to work and check on my presentation for tomorrow. I'd taken the afternoon off, but what's the point? I won't be phoning all my friends with the joyful news after all.
As I'm makingmy way out, I feel a hand grabbing my arm. I turn in shock to see him. He wasthere to try once again to change my mind. But I don't feel like feeling likean idiot anymore.
~~~
Heya everybody!
This is just my attempt to be regular with my posts as I'm using 2-3 novels to write this story.
Thanks for reading ❤️
I'll post on Sundays-Mondays-Thursdays and maybe on Saturdays sometimes.