"... nice house overlooking the lake. Let's check it out this evening," I said as I had done several times in the past month. It wasn't as though our wedding date was fixed or that we needed a house to move in anytime soon. But the market was just right for me to buy a house and we would be occupying the house anyway. 

"Why should we inspect a house together?" Now that wasn't what I expected to hear. 

"What do you mean? We've been doing this for weeks and suddenly you..." She raised her hand interrupted me.

"Not anymore. I don't think this will work out in the long run. I don't think we are made for each other?"

"What?" I felt like someone whacked me hard on my head. "What do you mean this won't work? Are you...?"

"Yes. I am saying I am not in this anymore."

"What has come over you all of a sudden? Until yesterday you were normal."

"Are you suggesting I've become abnormal all of a sudden? That's your problem. If I tell you I have decided to move on, I am abnormal. If I tell you we are not a thing, I am abnormal. But if I smile and tag along wherever you want me to go, I am normal. That's your definition of normal, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. I didn't drag you along everywhere. I only wanted you to come along to see our... Well what's the point? There isn't a we or an our anymore. At least tell me why?"

"Mom thinks this won't fly. She feels I will end up home in six months." 

"And you just shook your head without putting your head to good use?" 

"Why should I? She always means well and I don't need to think twice."

"And what prevented you from taking her opinion before you twinkle-toed around me when I was playing table-tennis without a care in the world or when you dragged me along to the movies when I would've preferred to play a game of cricket with my friends?" 

"Look! We can talk of every if and but. I am not in this anymore. There is no we."

"What if? I know you don't believe in ifs coming from anyone but your mom. What if your mother changes her mind tomorrow? Or say, in a week?" 

"Then we can get back to being together. It is that simple."

"And you expect me to stand by the revolving door to execute your mother's command? No sweetheart. I am not your mom's marionette, you are. So, you say there is no we?" 

"Yes."

"No us?"

"Yes."

"And that means you and I are separate. Not together?"

"No matter how many ways you conjure up to ask me the same question, it is a yes. We are not together. You and I are separate. Not one. Not together?"

"Heard her? Get me the bill for one samosa and tea," I told the waiter.

"Sir, but what about madam's bill?" 

"She'll pay. I don't run a charity here."

"But I don't have my purse. You asked me to leave it at home."

"You should've asked your mom if it was okay," I walked away to the fading music of her whimper. It sounded nice.