“No,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t.”
Karthik’s mother was silent for a moment. She opened her mouth to say something, then subtly shook her head, taking a bite of her food instead. Karthik tentatively picked his fork back up. Was that it? His mother didn’t have any more questions for him? She was just going to accept that things between him and Meghna were over? That they were done?
He swallowed, his unease growing. How was his mother so calm? How was she completelyfinewith the fact that he’d never see Meghna again? Never hear her laugh or listen to her describe another musical? Never get to read another one of her ridiculous T-shirts?
He shoveled a spoonful of rice and chicken into his mouth. The flavors burst across his tongue, but he barely registered them. He waited a second, then cleared his throat.
“Could you not talk to Meghna’s parents about this? At least, not yet. She’s planning on telling them tomorrow and it’s probably best if they hear it from her.”
His mother looked up, her gaze careful and assessing. “Okay,” she finally said. “Meghna’s mom called about venues, but I’ll just wait a few days before I get back to her.”
“Thank you.” He took another bite. “When, uh, when is Dad leaving?”
Hurt flashed across his mother’s face, and then all trace of emotion was wiped clean. “I…I think he’s already left. But you’ll have to ask him.”
Karthik nodded. There was a fat chance of that happening. Everything within him rebelled at the thought of talking to his father, but he’d figure that out later.
After they finished their meal, Karthik excused himself. He still had some last-minute preparation he wanted to finish before his re-interview with the panel tomorrow. He hugged his mother goodbye, but held on a little longer than normal.
“You know I’m here for you,” he said. “For whatever you need. I…I’ve wanted this for you for a while, but I never expected…”
“I know,” his mother said softly. “And I’m sorry. About Meghna.”
He smiled ruefully. “Me too.” After a shared look of pain and understanding, he left.
—
After a full day of work, Meghna sat on the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees. She read over everything she had written yesterday, then opened the Excel spreadsheet she’d worked on one afternoon and never opened again.
Months ago, when she’d gone to New York for the retirement party, Karthik had mentioned the idea of getting an MFA. She’d been hesitant. Though her mother may have finally conceded that engineering was out of the picture, she still frequently implored Meghna to consider grad school so that she could do something “professional.”
Her mother didn’t mean to be hurtful. But a lifetime of hearing those comments had made Meghna tense up at any mention of further education. She’d always dismissed the idea out of hand. She’d never once thought about going back to school to work on her writing. Not until Karthik had brought it up.
Her breath caught, and a sharp pang shot through her. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about Karthik. At least not too much. But now she couldn’t help but replay that conversation. They’d been talking about where they would live after the wedding. And she’d saidNew York. Not that it had been real. They’d just been practicing what they would tell people.
But days later, she’d thought about actually moving to New York. About how she’d always wanted to do it, but never made any real plans. That night, she’d started researching, creating a list of MFA programs in the city.
She read through that list now. Most required that she submit a sizable writing sample, and thankfully, she had one. If she kept working on it at this pace, she’d be able to finish it in time for this year’s application cycle. Maybe that was what this play had been meant for all along.
She was opening her calendar to add some deadlines when a knock on the door took her by surprise. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, and she was shocked to see her father standing outside, cradling a stack of Tupperware containers in his arms.
She’d purposefully skipped out on last night’s family dinner, unsure if she could be around her parents and not spill everything. How she and Karthik were over. How the engagement was through. How she’d failed. And let them down. Again.
“Dad,” she said, ushering him inside. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.” She took a few of the containers from him and walked toward the kitchen. He hadn’t called or texted. And her parents never showed up out of the blue. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine, beta. Fine.” He followed her, opening her fridge and putting everything away. “Your mother’s working late tonight and she left me with clear instructions. She made extra food yesterday, thinking you were coming, and I was told to pack it up and bring it here.” He smiled. “Between you and me, I was also instructed to phrase it in a way that would make you feel guilty for canceling last minute, but I never promised to do that. I’m sure you were busy. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all, but I’ve learned to always follow your mother’s directions.” He winked. “And I can never pass up a chance to see my favorite daughter.”
Meghna gave him a smile, but despite her father’s disclaimer, guilt swirled in her gut. She’d kept so much from her parents. Lied to them repeatedly. And here her father was, being so kind and understanding on top of everything. It was almost too much for her to take. Her eyes pricked, tears beginning to form.
Her father frowned. “Meghna, what happened? What’s wrong?”
The tiny bit of control she had over her composure slipped, and a sob escaped before she could help it. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. Clearly. Which her father seemed to understand, though he didn’t press. He just waited, his eyebrows knit in concern, as she caught her breath.
“Karthik and I,” she started. “We’re not, we’re…” She shook her head, stopping herself before the rest of it came tumbling out. She’d promised Karthik that she wouldn’t say anything before his interview. And she didn’t want to break her word.
“We’re just very different people,” she finished.
