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Chapter 34 - My Angel

"We met Rupali only on their reception," Alan's grandmother confided in me. "Nice girl. But Jacobite. From Goa."

I smiled politely, listening as she recounted the tales of Alan's brother's wedding. "He got married in the US. Court marriage. We asked her to be baptized, but she was very stubborn. We had a big reception for them here when they came. Poor Alex's Amma and Achan didn't get to attend their son's wedding."

"I'm sorry," I said, wondering where this was leading. I felt awkward, alone with this formidable woman who had sought me out in Alex's room.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything, did you?" she asked with sharp eyes.

I shook my head somehow feeling like a child being reprimanded.

She leaned in closer, her voice a loud carrying whisper. "It was a lot of embarrassment for the family. We are reputable people; we have to maintain an image. I have only one son, Alex already shamed us and Alan also carries the family name."

Just then, Alan's mother entered, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Amma," she said, her voice firm but weary. "Only you are embarrassed. We love Rupali. Everyone has already moved on."

"Ameena, you don't know what they say behind your back. I have heard it. They say that you raise your sons as loose characters. Alex has brought shame to the family," his grandmother spat venomously.

I saw the hurt flash across Alan's mother's face. I wanted to hug her, to promise I would never be the source of such pain for their family.

Desperately, I sought an escape, but the grandmother was relentless. "I heard you helped Alan through some tough times. He's okay now. Your work is done."

The bluntness shocked me. But the truth was a mirror: my own family would like say the same.

Where was Alan? Aaargh!

"We are friends, Ammachi," I replied, my voice soft and weak. "Friends don't care about religion."

Her eyes narrowed. "That boy loves you. Don't say 'friends' and break his heart. If you care about him, let him go. Give him a chance to..."

Right then, Alan entered the room, interrupting the conversation. His face lit up with a beaming smile, his heart clearly warmed by the sight of me with his family. Oblivious to the tension, he sat next to me and playfully ran his fingers through my hair.

I instinctively moved away, shocked by his familiarity under his grandmother's scrutiny. But when I looked at him, his eyes were filled with pure, unguarded adoration.

"So, you met my angel, Ammachi?" he asked, his voice brimming with affection.

For once, the old woman was left utterly speechless.

"God sent Fiza to me, Ammachi," Alan explained, his voice soft with a conviction that nearly stopped my breathing. "To save me."

I gazed at him, feeling my eyes grow moist.

"She is everything to me."

My heart hammered against my ribs as he placed his arm around me, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head. It was a claim, gentle but absolute.

Alan's grandmother shook her head, her disapproval a tangible force. "You're crazy. She's just another girl who has set her sights on you."

"Ammachi!" he said, his tone pleading yet firm. "I told you, Fiza doesn't see me that way. She's... too good for me, Ammachi. I'll never deserve her." His sincerity was breathtaking, and his broken, earnest Malayalam only made the confession more charming, more him, to my ears.