Page 6 of Everything She Wanted

I dig my manicured nails into my palm before responding.

I’m positive my next promotion is right around the corner, and that’s why I’m slogging it out every single day at one of the hottest start-ups in Vancouver, Evolve Tech Industries. They’ll realize I’m an incredible asset to the marketing team and the company, and then I can finally have some savings instead of living paycheque to paycheque.

“Not yet, Mom. But I’m sure it will happen soon.”

Silence greets me on the other end, and I quell the doubt rising in my gut.

I pick up my pen and add an arrow next to LinkedIn-worthy career to show this is a work in progress, even as my hand trembles.

“What about the wedding?”

“The wedding?” I echo. Confusion hovers on the line between us.

“Have you and Eshaan set a date for the wedding? Your Mama Ji was asking.”

I sigh.

Eshaan and I aren’t even engaged yet, and my mom is already pushing us to lock down a wedding date.

“We’re going to wait until after the engagement. Then we’ll decide.” I tighten my jaw as I wait for her response.

The tightness subsides a little as I think about Eshaan, my soon-to-be fiancé, my Bollywood happily ever after, my incredible love story. He is a man that my family actually approves of, and they have extremely high standards. He checks all the boxes: good—meaning rich and reputable—family; great career in his family’s successful business; owns his own place; drives a super nice car. The best part is that he’s madly in love with me, and we’re making it official soon with an epic engagement ceremony. I let my pen glide across the page with a bold checkmark.

“Wait? You know you’re turning thirty this year. Preeti was already married five years and pregnant with Aman by then.”

She just had to bring up Preeti, my perfect, amazing sister.

I lean back against the cushion, calling on support in any way I can.

“I know, Mom.” I try to keep the resentment from my voice. I wish she could see how great I’m doing, how the puzzle pieces of my love life and career are finally falling into place.

“No husband, no kids, no house, no car...and at your age! What are people going to say?”

My shoulders tense and my throat goes dry as I try to ignore the blatant dig. Instead, I take a sip from my matcha latte, letting the extra-sweetness wash over my tongue and erase the bitterness lingering in my mouth. It’s too early for this.

“Your father would have wanted you to be married by now.” She clicks her tongue, and her disapproval sinks into my wounds, opening them up again.

“Mom, please.” My shoulders slump and my breaths are shallow.

“Fine. I know you don’t care what anyone thinks. Always thinking of yourself, not your family.” With that, she abruptly hangs up.

I sit back in the booth, deflated. Instantly, my list and my progress look ridiculous. I’m a fool to think I have anything together when a single call from my mom puts me into a tailspin.

I’m turning thirty this year, but when I talk to my mom I’m sixteen again, incompetent and never good enough. It doesn’t matter that I’m working at one of the most talked-about start-ups in the city and they wanted me so badly, they relocated me here.

I take the lid off my matcha latte and inhale the sweet scent of vanilla mixed with a touch of earthy green tea, letting it comfort me briefly. Then I pop the lid back on, stuff my notebook and pen back into my bag, and pull on my coat.

The coat. It’s something Rachel and I bought together when I first moved here, when she suggested I upgrade my wardrobe to become the most successful version of me. It makes me smile every time I wear it. It’s something Fantasy Nisha would wear—she has her shit together and isn’t just making things up as she goes along.

I stand and look around the busy cafe, the office workers all dressed pristinely. I imagine a life where I belong, where I have a voice, where I can speak my mind. I worry that someone will see through my polished facade and discover the broken little girl pretending to be a sophisticated woman.

I step outside and the breeze grants me a brief reprieve from my tumultuous thoughts. The sidewalk is busy as people rush to their offices, and the streets are bumper to bumper. I usually love the hum of city life, but today I feel the chaos of it, and I wish for more calm.

I walk to the office on autopilot, drifting between my worries and fears, when I find myself staring at the back of someone who looks familiar, but I can’t figure out why. It’s something about his perfectly tailored suit. Before I glimpse his face, he walks through my office building’s revolving door.

My heart races foolishly.

There’s no way that’s who I think it is.