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Neha was stunned. Her father never yelled. His anger was cold as ice.

“You heard me. We couldn’t find your passport, so you have to bring it.”

Neha had no clue what he was talking about. “You can’t find it. It’s at my place.”

“We’ve looked everywhere.”

“You’ve searched my apartment.” That wasn’t even a question. Neha was beyond disbelief. “You have no right to do such a thing. You have no business doing anything with my passport or any of my possessions.”

Her father huffed. “And who would take care of your visa? We will fly to Delhi next week. We. All of us.”

“Wait. Me, too?” This was the first thing Neha heard of it.

“Yes, of course, you, too. That’s the whole point of it, isn’t it?”

“The whole point of what?”

“Of meeting nice, eligible men to pick your fiancé from.”

“I will not pick a fiancé!”

“So I will.”

Neha simply hung up on him before she said things that might be unforgivable. She let out a loud growl and kicked a hassock of beach grass. “Oww.” She had misjudged the hardness of that hump of sand and grass and stubbed her toes in the tight shoes. Dropping to sit on the sand, she kicked her shoe off and hugged the bruised toes. She despised herself for the self-pity washing over her but could not help it. A low, long wail escaped her.

Being that poor Indian girl that would get married off to someone her parents chose—that was the role Neha never wanted. She’d been born in Atlanta, and before her, her parents had been, too. There was no need to pretend they were living in Delhi. And even there, an arranged marriage was more like match-making, not forcing someone to marry a stranger.

She got up and brushed herself off. That felt familiar. She had done this way too often, although most times it was a metaphor, not actual sand on her gown.

“Are you okay?” Nathan and Jay came running. They looked her up and down, trying to find what had made her cry. Neha guessed they were trained to look out for injuries, as they were both doctors.

As best man and maid of honor, Nathan and Neha had met several times about things wedding-related. Jay, she had met mere minutes before the ceremony. He was the only other Indian in this White and Black wedding.

“I’m good, really. I am,” Neha said. Even to her ears, that was unconvincing. The phone she still held in her hand played a short jingle to announce an incoming text. She looked down at it. It was from her father and read, “Bring passport for visa. You will get married next month. Quit stalling.”

With a scream, Neha tossed the phone over the dune. A splash sounded. Sighing, she said, “That wasn’t smart.”

“Not really,” Jay asked. “Was it worth it?”

“Probably not.” Neha started walking around the dune to find her phone. Maybe it could be salvaged. The men went with her. Neha flinched—they probably thought it wasn’t safe to leave her alone.

“What was this all about?” Nathan asked. And for whatever reason, Neha explained it all. Her being the only daughter and thus the only chance to have grandchildren. Her parents bound to a civilization where arranged marriages were the norm. Her bad luck in the dating department. And that no matter how successful she was as a lawyer, it would never be enough. She was hoping to make partner soon and knew not even this would appease her parents.

Nathan laughed incredulously. “Arranged marriage is not a thing. Not in the twenty-first century. Not in America.”

“Nathan, stop it,” Jay said. “You wouldn’t know. It’s way more common than most people think. Not for all Indian families, but for some of them.”

“Seriously? How many people do you know that have been married off by their parents?”

“Half a dozen? I didn’t count them. But if you want to, you can count me in. Next month my mother will get a visit from a distant cousin from Mumbai—she’ll bring a friend, too. Who happens to be female and eligible.”

Nathan just stared at his friend, open-mouthed. Neha asked, “Will you marry her?”

Jay shrugged and kicked some grass to the side to look for the phone.

“Don’t evade.” Nathan took him by the arm. “Will you get married to someone your mother picked?” He sounded shocked and appalled at the same time. Watching his reaction gave Neha the sense that her own feelings were valid, and she calmed.

“The last few times I simply refused. This time…” Jay shook Nathan’s hand off and bent to pick up the phone he had made out in a shallow puddle. “It’s getting harder every time.”