Felt and Fell

One

Zoya

I've bought him an engagement ring. Was that a mistake?

I mean, it's not a girly ring. It's a plain band with a tiny diamond in it, which the guy in the shop talked me into. If Yash doesn't like the diamond, he can always turn it around.

Or not wear it at all. Keep it on his nightstand or in a box or whatever.

Or I could take it back and never mention it. Actually, I'm losing confidence in this ring by the minute, but I just felt bad that he wouldn't have anything. Men don't get the greatest deal out of a proposal. They have to set up the occasion; they have to get down on one knee; they have to ask the question, and they have to buy a ring. And what do we have to do?

Say "yes."

Or "no," obviously.

I wonder what proportion of marriage proposals end in a "yes" and what proportion end in a "no"? I open my mouth automatically to share this thought with Yash-then hastily close it again. Idiot.

"Sorry?" He glances up.

"Nothing!" I beam. "Just... great menu!"

I wonder if he's bought a ring already. I don't mind, either way. On the one hand, it's fabulously romantic if he has. On the other hand, it's fabulously romantic to choose one together.

It's a win-win.

I sip my water and smile lovingly at Yash. We're sitting at a corner table. It's a new restaurant in the town. All black-and-white marble and vintage chandeliers and button-back chairs in pale gray. It's elegant but not showy. The perfect place for a lunchtime proposal. I was wearing a white dress with pink print, leaving my hair left open. I chose to put a bit extra effort into getting ready today, I was going for the doll-y look.

He's looking nervous. He's fiddling with his cuffs and checking his phone and swirling the water round in his glass. As he sees me watching him, he smiles too.

"So."

"So."

It's as though we're speaking in code, skirting around the real issue. I fiddle with my napkin and adjust my chair. This waiting is unbearable. Why doesn't he get it over with?

No, I don't mean "get it over with." Of course, I don't. It's not a vaccination. It's... Well, what is it? It's a beginning. A first step. The pair of us embarking on a great adventure together. Because we want to take on life as a team. Because we can't think of anyone else we'd rather share that journey with. Because I love him and he loves me.

I'm getting misty-eyed already. This is hopeless. I've been like this for days, ever since I realized what he was driving at.

He's quite heavy-handed, Yash. I mean, in a good, lovable way. He's direct and to the point and doesn't play games. (Thank God.) Nor does he land massive surprises on you out of the blue. On my last birthday, he hinted for ages that his present was going to be a surprise trip, which was ideal because I knew what I was going to get. (Keeping the fact aside that he got called for work the last minute, and I flew alone to spend my birthday in the Maldives.... It was actually really fun but it wasn't what was planned.)

So this time, when he began dropping hints, again they weren't exactly subtle indications. They were more like massive signposts plonked in the road: I will be proposing to you soon.

First, he set up this date and called it a "special lunch." Then he referred to a "big question" he had to ask me and half-winked (to which I feigned ignorance, of course). Then he started teasing me by asking if I like his surname, Arora. (As it happens, I do like it. I don't mean I won't miss being Zoya Siddiqui, but I guess I'd be happy to be Mrs. Zoya Arora.)