“I’m definitely going to be late today,” the girl worried as she scurried around her bedroom, trying to get ready as quickly as possible.
She grabbed the first ironed dress she could find in her closet and hastily put it on, hoping there wouldn’t be any traffic on the way to work. Her students weren’t exactly great at the whole patience thing and would probably disperse faster than a smoke cloud if she wasn’t there at 9am on the dot.
She quickly checked her appearance in the mirror, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear and adjusting the dupatta around her neck.
“This is the dress I was wearing the day that lady came to see me,” the thought suddenly shot through her head, recalling that day to her mind. “I wonder if she called mom again…”
She quickly pushed the thought from her mind. No use fretting about that now, she chided herself, these things took time and it had only been a few weeks since that initial meeting. It could take anywhere from a week to a few months before anything definite came from it.
However, as she quickly gathered up a pile of term papers and headed out the door, she couldn’t help but go over that initial meeting in her head. The lady had been really nice, smiling and talking while sizing the girl up as a possible bride for her youngest son, while the girl smiled nervously and tried to not sound like a complete idiot.
The meeting had been less awkward than others of the sort the girl had sat through so there was that.
“I wonder what the son is like,” she thought as she climbed into her car. “I wonder what he looks like..”
The girl adjusted her rear view mirror, glanced at her wristwatch, and started her drive to work.
As she took a quick short-cut in an attempt to maybe not be so late to work, she barely noticed the silver car that passed her on the street. She didn’t notice the boy behind the wheel who turned around to look at her, or that he kept looking at her till she was out of sight…
To be continued…
Over the years since I’ve been blogging I’ve been asked more than once how I met my husband, how arranged marriages work. Each marriage, arranged or not, comes about differently and I can’t speak for them all, but this is my story.