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I frown. “Excuse me?”
He gestures to my phone. “You didn’t say ‘I love you’ back.”
The tips of my ears redden. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t exactly sound right, either,” Sarfaraz counters. He runs his finger along his upper lip, and the action momentarily distracts me until he says, “You know, sixty percent of all divorces involve individuals ages twenty-five to thirty-nine. I’m guessing you and your fiancé are in that demographic?”
I glare at him so hard he cowers. “I didn’t ask for a consultation,” I seethe. “When I want your services, I’ll ask.” I stare out the window, hoping the gorgeous scenery will calm me down.
We continue to sit in silence for a while until Sarfaraz speaks. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts. I cautiously peek at him from the corner of my eye, and he does have an apologetic look on his face. “I get... I’m cynical. I’m just frustrated my travel plans got halted. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
I huff, but eventually position my body so I’m not hugging the side of the carriage anymore. “No, you shouldn’t, but this whole thing is partly my fault.”
Sarfaraz raises a brow. “I didn’t know you could control the weather.”
I snort. “No, it’s not that. I’m cursed.”
He laughs, but when I don’t, he stops abruptly. “Wait, what?”
“I’m cursed,” I repeat.
“I’m sorry, how are you saying that with a straight face?”
“Because it’s true,” I insist. At his scoff, I sit up in my seat. “Like being late to the airport, my luggage getting left behind, and now being stranded in Switzerland. I have bad luck all around, but it’s especially bad when it comes to my love life.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he says. He makes a rewind gesture. “Back up. You don’t actually think that, do you?”
I stare at him, completely serious. “Of course I do.”
He tilts his head to the side. “But you do know curses don’t exist, right?”
“Of course they do,” I counter. “I know some people think it’s stupid to be superstitious, but I can’t help it. Not after everything I’ve ever experienced in life.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad—”
“First month of university,” I cut him off, holding up one finger. “I sit next to this super cute guy in one of my English classes, and I spend the whole month working up the courage to talk to him, and on the day I decide to say something, he’s not in class. Turns out he got kicked out because he’d committed an academic offense.”
Sarfaraz swallows back a laugh. “Okay, that’s bad, but—”
“Second year,” I go on, putting up another finger. “My roommate, who I didn’t talk to much, persuaded me to go to a party with her. I spotted a very cute guy, and just as I went to talk to him, his boyfriend showed up and kissed him right in front of me.”
I continue even as he tries to fight the grin on his face. “I managed to get a date with that same guy later that year, but his table manners were so bad that I had to end the date early.”
I hold up another finger. “In my last year of university, there was this guy who I had lots of classes with because we were in the same program, and I always had a distant crush on him. We got paired for a group presentation and I thought it was my chance to talk to him, and one night while we were working, he told me he had something to tell me. I thought he was going to profess his undying love for me, but he said, ‘The earth is flat.’”
Sarfaraz’s face briefly contorts at the mention of the conspiracy theory, but otherwise it’s red from how hard he’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he croaks. “You have really bad luck.”
I lean back in my seat. “That’s nothing. You don’t even wanna hear the horror stories I have from potential rishtas. Once, I accidentally insulted the guy to a woman who I didn’t realize was his mother by telling her he was super boring.”
Sarfaraz gives up and howls, his laughter filling the train car. He immediately gets a flood of dirty looks from the other passengers, but he can only wave his hand in a silent apology while a whistling sound comes out of his nose. He wipes uselessly at his face, because fresh tears replace the old ones. A couple of times he manages to calm down, but then he takes one look at me and loses it again.
I have to admit, as annoying as he is, his laughter is kind of sweet, like the first bite of an ice-cream cone on a sweltering day at a theme park. It’s late, you’re exhausted, your feet ache, and you’re soaked with sweat, but the first bite of sugary sweetness that hits your tongue is enough to rejuvenate you.
I brush my bangs behind my ear. “Fine, make fun of my misfortune. I’ll be waiting in the wings for you to get your retribution from Allah.”
“Okay, okay,” Sarfaraz relents. His chest hitches, but he finally stops to take in a few long, deep breaths. Once he’s back in control, he says, “Fine, that stuff’s...bad, but it doesn’t mean you’re cursed.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m stuck in a foreign country, on a train with a total stranger who I threw up on after getting caught in a rainstorm so bad they had to land our flight for multiple days. That’s not exactly good kismet.”
