Page 70 of Knot So Romantic

“I get it. Appearances matter more than they should. But does my happiness mean nothing to you and Papa?”

Mom’s face sets in determination. “I don’t understand what’s going on. So, this… this man—”

“Neel.”

“Neel. Does he want to marry you? Or simply spoil your name in society and leave you good for nothing else?”

Spoil my name? Good lord! I’m twenty-seven, going on twenty-eight.

She means, am I going to be his girlfriend and nothing else? I swallow because I know it’s not going to sound good at all. Because Neel and I have never discussed marriage. Yet, if there’s anyone I know I will marry, it’s Neel. “We didn’t talk about marriage,” I respond truthfully.

“Your mother and I will talk to him and find out what he has in mind,” Dad says quietly. “Call him over to meet us.”

I feel a lump rise in my throat. “We had a...a sort of an argument.”

“About what?” Mom asks, her hands on her hips.

“That he is much older than me.”

“He’s sensible. At least I give him that.”

Dad looks at me. “If he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, then he’s right.” His voice is grim.

Mom bursts into a smile. “Well, let’s forget about him. Jeet and his family will be here any minute.”

I cross my arms over my chest and stay put. This has gone on for far too long, and it has been entirely my fault. I’ve not only hidden things from my parents, I’ve also been a coward. I’ve never told them the truth.

Neel was right. Mom will never back off, but I also feel like it’s my fault that I have always wanted to appease my parents. If I’d told them earlier, we wouldn’t have to go through this now. I need to stand up for what I want and mean it.

“I don’t want to meet Jeet...or anyone else,” I state firmly.

Mom turns to Dad. “What is she talking about? Didn’t she just say...”

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time, Ma, Papa. I don’t want to marry someone I don’t know. I want to marry for love, not for the sake of convenience.”

Mom clicks her tongue in annoyance. “All this love stuff happens more in the movies than in real life to most. Not everyone marries for love. And…love can also happen after the wedding so often.”

The front doorbell rings. I don’t get a chance to say anything further. Jeet and his family are here. Mom’s face lights up. “Now, smile. I have a strong feeling you’re going to fall in love with this man. Forget Neel. That’s best for you and us,” she says as she heads for the door.

Dad’s expression is grave. He hasn’t said much, but I know he’s disappointed in me. I know I’ve let him down the most of all. I used to run to him after every fall, tell him everything that happened at school. Every crush I had in college. All the jokes and laughter we shared. And now, I’ve kept such a big secret from him. I feel terrible.

It’s like I’ve been too careful around him since his stroke. A pained look clouds his eyes.

There’s a commotion in the living room as the guests walk in. Dad turns around and walks out of the kitchen. I lean against the counter to catch my breath.

This conversation isn’t over yet. And this time, I intend to stand my ground.

***

I overhear snippets of conversation from the living room. Jeet’s mother’s voice is full of pride as she talks about her son’s recent promotion. “And you know,” she says, her tone warm but patronizing, “Kavita’s little boutique is so charming. It’s a wonderful way for her to keep busy when she’s not managing the household.”

I wince, hearing my life’s work reduced to ‘keeping busy.’

“I admire a woman with ambition,” Jeet says earnestly. “Kavita’s fashion show was just breathtaking. But once we have children, I’m sure she’ll naturally want to prioritize family. She can always go back to her designing when the kids are older.”

My stomach twists into knots. Their words sound supportive on the surface, but the underlying message is clear: my career is expendable, a mere pastime until ‘real life’—marriage and children—begins.

Suddenly, what I’m about to do seems necessary. I want a partner who truly understands and supports my ambitions, not someone who sees them as a temporary distraction.