"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect."

Margaret Mitchell

Neil's POV

I was fascinated.

What do you want me to say? That I loved her? Adored her? After one meeting? Life doesn't work that way. Hell, nothing really works that way.

But I sure was fascinated.

I've been to my fair share of these muhdikhais this holiday - five, to be exact. Four of them were simpering young things turned out in flamboyant traditional wear. All of 23 or 24, ready to jump into the marriage wagon that even I, at 29, was apprehensive about.

No past, their parents assured, no history at all.

A bit bland, won't you say? I'm sure our country has its share of strong women, overachievers and go-getters. Fantastic women with great personalities, beautiful in and out.

Not one I met seemed the least ambitious, unless bagging me was the contest. I seemed favorable, I knew. US educated, settled in LA...engineer, fairly tall, fairly fair. I ticked every bloody box on their mental checklist.

Not one asked me about myself, but they all asked how I was.

Well, hello, today I'm grumpy. Please marry me and be Mrs. Grumpy. Tomorrow, don't complain that I love football and classical music and don't enjoy sightseeing.

And one girl came out dressed in a defiant look and some formals. That defiance fascinated me more than anything else. I asked her out, in spite of my Ma's instructions to not stretch it out long.

Because of which, here I was, three days later, at our appointed place and time. I lied to Ma saying I was off to meet some friends, and she didn't ask much. I checked my watch.

5:28 pm.

I had asked for 5:30, she had said "No problem".

My phone rang, and I picked it up eagerly thinking it was her. It wasn't – it was my cursed brother. 'Shantanu' read the caller id.

"What?" I picked it up.

"You could try and inject some happiness into that voice, bro."

"No" I growled stubbornly.

"You can't still be pissed!" his voice climbed octaves in disbelief.

I was starting to get a headache. "Shut up, you" I muttered, "You blew my life apart, you piece of shit."

"I didn't" he defended hotly, "If she didn't want to, I just saved you from a truck load of misery, alright? Got you the fucking closure she would never give you. I-"

"I said shut up!" my face was in my hands my now, "I'm supposed to be meeting this other woman now.'

"See! See! You've already bounced back!" Tanu practically howled, "I told you I did you a favour, but oh no, you have to dramatize everything!"

"Me?" my eyes almost popped out in mock horror, "And drama? Compared to you? I might be a loser, Tan, but I'm not a fucking idiot, hear me?"

"Hey"

I whipped around. There she was, at 5:29, standing a few feet away. As if debating whether to approach any further. She bit her lip, and I figured she was nervous too.

"I'll talk to you later, you dick" I muttered onto the phone.

"HI BHABHIIII" he yelled into the phone before I managed to cut it. Sneaky bastard, my brother.

"Hello to you too" I stood up, a smile making its way onto my face involuntarily as (I'm pretty sure) I blushed hard. She was in a pretty summer dress, appropriate and cute. I balked; she looked so very eye-catching in this sea of traditional wear and over-casual clothes. She smiled back as I took hold of her chair and settled her in.

"Gentleman and all" she murmured.

"Not really" I laughed as I settled, "Old habits die hard. Besides, gentleman never lie and today I lied to-"

I stopped. What the hell was I doing, telling the girl I was a liar? Her eyes were as large as saucers, curious at my words.

"What I mean is...you know...I...uh..."

"I lied to come here too" came her voice.

She was looking at me with what I can only categorise as understanding. I was a little embarrassed that I couldn't muster the guts to tell my Ma the truth and had come here slinking away like it was something to be ashamed of.

"I don't lie like this usually" I tried.

She nodded, "Its...not that easy in matters like these."

I wanted to change the topic, so I asked her what she wanted. I figured she would like some sweet, milky stuff like most girls, but she went on ahead and ordered a double shot of espresso. I glanced at her speculatively.

Nothing predictable yet.

"Come on, ask" she broke the silence, sipping on her espresso.

"I'm sorry, what?" I almost choked on my own black.

"My history, my story, whatever" she intoned in a bored voice, but her eyes told another tale altogether.

"It's...alright if...you're not comfortable" I managed.

She surveyed me for a few moments. Analytically.

"Are you wasting my time?" she asked softly, so quietly that for a moment I wasn't sure if I heard her right.

"No! No, not at all" I said emphatically, placing my cup back on the table.

"I refuse to believe you aren't interested in my...history" her voice was lilting, her accent beautiful. A wonderful mix of American and Indian with some...British?

So I asked, "Did you live in the UK?"

She seemed startled at the question. "Yes, I did my undergraduate in the UK" she confirmed, "How...?"

"You have a slight British accent" I sipped some more coffee.

Her eyes glazed over at that and she turned silent.

"So...history?" I prompted.

"Yeah...yeah" she jerked as if I woke her up from a stupor, "History...I was married to a man named Michael Grey. He was British-American. I got married when I was 22, divorced when I was 25."

"Why?"

"What why?" she laughed it off shakily, her eyes becoming round as I asked further.

"Why did you split?"

She looked away. I was a little confused. Three years is a long time. Enough to get over someone, right?

"Listen, it's okay-" I began.

"No one's really asked me why, except my family, really" her eyes were shining when she turned to me, "Especially none of my suitors. Thank you."

I stared at her open-mouthed. How was this possible?

"I was accepted into a prestigious firm in New York and shifted from Boston, where we were settled. We did our Masters together in Harvard, you see...he stayed in Boston while I came down. Things were great for about six months...till I heard some rumors. I went back up to check on him as a surprise...let's just say, that was the end. I...I didn't...I couldn't face him again"

She was so close to breaking apart. Three long years and she was in this state. She still hadn't managed to get it out of her system.

"Listen, let's get out of here" I offered, "Let's drive around."

She wiped her unshed tears violently, angrily. No feminine delicacy in this girl, none at all, I found myself remarking. I placed a hand at the base of her back out of habit, herding her out. She stiffened immediately and then relaxed.

"I caught him in bed" she said after around half an hour of silent driving around.

I didn't reply, just glanced over to see that she wasn't crying anymore. She was looking out, expressionless, but her nose has reddened. I stopped the car and she looked over, surprised.

"Do you think all of us are alike?" I found myself asking. I have no idea where that question came from. None at all.

"You ask very different questions." She noted with a small smile.

"Good or bad?" I liked her smile, I realized.

"Difficult" she said simply, "You ask very difficult questions."

**

I asked her where I would drop her off, and she said that the café where we had met would be just fine. We were close to the café when she spoke again.

"No, I don't think all men are alike"

"Glad to hear that" I managed a smirk, "We aren't all pigs and cheats." She laughed, and I loved it.

"Do we go anywhere from here?" she turned her head to glance at me.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" I stopped my car and turned my head towards hers. "There are always options. You could stay home, live life as it is. Or if you'd like, we could start on an adventure."

"I like the way you analyse" she laughed, "What do you do for a living?"

I had told her, hadn't I? No wait...I hadn't. "I'm a structural engineer. I work for a huge architectural firm in LA. Don't make much, but make enough to keep me happy."

Her jaw fell open. She expected me to be rich?

"I am an interior designer" she rushed, "Which firm?"

I told her. She practically squealed with joy. "I love your firm's work" she gushed, "Especially the floating hotel concept that came out last month."

I laughed nervously, "I was one of the engineers on that project."

"Oh god, oh my god" her smile grew and grew, "that's wonderful, congratulations!"

That's all it took for me to decide.

"Arundhati, do you want to embark on an adventure with me? I'm not that rich, not that great a catch, but I swear I'll do all your interiors consultation."

She laughed, and laughed hard. So hard that tears came out of her eyes.

"That's an offer I would never refuse" she wiped her happy tears off very delicately, I noticed, "Yes, Neil, I'd like to give this adventure a chance."

**

Any AEC professional can tell you how much it means when someone offers free consultation:)

This one's for all the people who keep motivating me to write...y'all are awesome, a boon for a writer!

I rest, as always,

Ellanie