**Winner 2024 Amby Awards**
Fiza has everything planned-medical school, a respectable future, and an engagement she never wanted. Determined to escape a loveless match, she creates a checklist to find the perfect husband her father will approve of.
...
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The month of community medicine flew by quickly, and suddenly we were thrust back into the relentless grind of second year. Mornings were a blur of lectures, evenings a marathon of clinical rotations. My painstakingly color-coded timetable was in tatters. I was constantly behind, spending my weekends buried in textbooks in the college library just to keep my head above water.
Alan, following the same grueling schedule, started coming to campus on weekends too. We'd claim our usual table, sharing our misery.
But this particular Saturday, I couldn't focus. I had been staring at the same page of Robbins Pathology for over thirty minutes but the words remained a meaningless jumble. My father's text message was imprinted in my brain and nothing else registered.
Pappa: Fahad is in town. Be a good girl and go meet him. Don't disappoint us.
"What's eating you?" Alan's voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up, my distress must have been plain on my face. He knew me too well.
"Come on, spit it out," he urged, closing his own book.
"Let's get some cup noodles," I said. Cup noodles made everything better. We walked to the familiar stall in silence, picked up our noodles and settled on a bench outside the library.
"Well?" he prodded gently.
I drew shaky breath. "Fahad's in town, and my parents want me to go meet him."
I saw the flicker of confusion on his face. "Who is Fahad?"
"My fiancé." I stated it as a matter of fact. Vineet had told me he knew of the engagement so I didn't think that would be much of a shock. But I was wrong.
He went completely still for a second, then shoveled a too-large mouthful of noodles into his mouth and immediately started choking.
"Are you okay?" I asked, worried, but also trying not to laugh at what he had done.
He just shrugged, coughing, waving a hand as if to say it's nothing, but his eyes were watering.
"Alan," I said softly, my hands finding his, lacing our fingers together. "It's okay."
I felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. My touch, my voice, they always seemed to calm the storm in him. He nodded, taking a few deep, steadying breaths.
Finally, he found his voice. "Tell me about Fahad."
A wave of pure frustration washed over me. "There's nothing to say. I'm not going to marry that... that..." I searched for a word vile enough, settling on the one that felt right. "That douchebag."
Alan chuckled, finally looking relaxed. "So how is he your fiancé? I mean, a fiancé implies marriage sometime in the future, you know?" he playfully remarked.
