**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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I walked back into my room to find Fiza completely absorbed in her world of highlighters and timetables. She was bent over her planner, a rainbow of colors spread out around her, and her face was lit up with a pure, focused joy that made my chest feel tight. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Why do you look so happy when you're around your highlighters?" I teased, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you sniffing them? Is this an addiction?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, you idiot," she said, but she was grinning. "We're getting famous."
I raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh yeah?"
"Our recent post on Instagram has over 100,000 views, and we have our first sponsor!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. Her delight was so infectious, so Fiza, that I had to smile, even though my own reaction was more measured. I was used to modeling contracts with serious paychecks; a social media sponsorship was something that needed further scrutiny - there were a lot of scammers on the internet.
"Who is this sponsor, and what do they want?" I asked, playing along.
"They're called Neembol. They have various neem-based products, and they want us to sing their jingle and post it on Reels," she explained, her eyes gleaming as if she'd just won a Grammy.
I burst out laughing. The image of us singing a jingle for neem products was just too absurd.
Fiza smiled at my reaction, undeterred. "Well, it's something, right?"
"What are they paying us?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Her face lit up even more, if that was possible. "They said they'd pay us Rs 0.25 for each view. If we get 100,000 views, that's Rs 25,000 in income!"
I paused, scratching my head. "Why would a jingle get that many views?" I wondered aloud. "Do you really want to do this?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Please, please, please?"
Looking at her like that, so full of hope and excitement, I couldn't say no. No matter how cringe I thought this was. "Okay, okay. We'll do it."
Then, I remembered my conversation with Amma. "By the way," I said teasing, "Mom asked about your hickey."
The transformation was instant. Fiza's brilliant, sunshine smile vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock and a deep flush of embarrassment that crept from her neck to her cheeks. It was adorable, and a little heartbreaking, all at once.
I burst out laughing as she practically sprinted to the bathroom.
Amused, I followed her in. She pushed her hair aside and tugged down the neck of her t-shirt, twisting to see the mark in the mirror.
My hands found their way to her waist, and she closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
"Is this allowed?" I whispered, bending down so my lips were on her neck. I brushed them against the faint bruise on her skin before giving it the softest, most teasing bite.
