“Okay.”
“Does his profession really matter? I mean, you want to be a scientist, so are you expecting a scientist?” “Of course not. No such expectations. Color, height, language, all those things don’t matter.”
“Okay, good. Then what about age?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
“If the person is younger than you, is that a problem? Or if the person is too old, is that a problem?” Her gaze held mine. “Of course not. It’s just the understanding between them that matters.”
“Okay, usually in our country, a younger man-older woman relationship is viewed in a different manner,” I said.
“If a woman gets married to an older man, does that make it okay? Is that a great thing? Bullshit thought,” she said, her voice firm.
My heart pounded in my chest. The stage was set. The next two days would be crucial. I knew I had to tell her. I had to risk it all. I had to tell her that I was the man she’d described, or at least, that I was trying to be.
The conversation had been circling for what felt like hours, all leading to this precarious precipice. “Exactly,” I’d said, the word feeling heavier than it should. The thought, which had been a persistent murmur in the back of my mind, had finally solidified. I could, I actually could, proceed with my proposal.
Anasooya, her usual bright, inquisitive self, tilted her head. “So, between , what’s your marriage plan?” I sighed, the weight of it settling deeper in my chest. “It’s… not so easy.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why? Of course, you’ll get a good girl.”
“Is it that simple?” The words were laced with a self-deprecating humor that I wasn’t entirely sure I felt. “Of course!” she insisted, her confidence unwavering. “No doubt in that.”
“But it’s not that easy to handle all of that, too, with this psychological issue.” I was referring to the anxiety that often clung to me, the remnants of a past trauma that still occasionally threw its shadow over my life. It was a hurdle, a significant one, when I thought about sharing myself with somebody for the rest of my life.
Anasooya’s expression softened, her voice becoming gentle, “Hey, shit man. It’s just a trauma, and you’re overcoming it. And after all, what a woman is expecting from her man is endless love, and that’s the only reason for your current issue. Every woman would dream about getting a man like you as their
husband.” Her words, so earnest and heartfelt, stirred something within me. It was the kind of unwavering belief that I hadn’t encountered in a long time.
A sudden surge of courage, or perhaps recklessness, flooded me. “If that’s so,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “then I’ll tell you something.”
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What is it?”
“Don’t make a scene, okay?” I felt a nervous knot forming in my stomach. This was far more vulnerable than anything I’d ever done.
“Hey, don’t be so surprising,” she chuckled, a small playful sound that made my heart flutter. “Just tell me.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you. But don’t make a noise and…” I trailed off, searching for the right words. “You just tell, yaar,” she urged.
I took a deep breath. “Anu… I love you.” The words, once a carefully guarded secret, now hung heavy in the air.
Anasooya screamed, “Vishal, what?!”
“Please don’t make noise,” I pleaded, my voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “I’ve already told you not to.”
“But do you know what you have just said?” Her voice trembled with shock.
“Yes, I know. Now, please be quiet, or I’ll leave the house now,” I threatened, though my heart felt like a trapped bird. I couldn’t let anything interrupt this confession, no matter how clumsily it had come out.
Then, to my dismay, Anasooya started to cry, silent tears tracking down her cheeks.
“Please don’t cry,” I begged, my voice thick with emotion. “I have feelings for you. It’s the same feeling I felt towards Zarah.” The mention of my late wife seemed to momentarily shock her into stillness.
I took a chance, letting my heart spill out, “I don’t think that one year or ten years is required for one person to feel love towards another. I’ve been thinking about it for the last few days. Yes, it’s true that I’ve only known you for a few days, but I felt the love towards you. And I want to live with you.”
She continued to cry quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Anu,” I said softly, reaching out, then stopping myself. “What?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Okay,” I said, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Day after tomorrow, you can step out of the room as your quarantine period will be over. So you have time to think. Please clear your mind and