**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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Over the next year, our friendship didn't just mend; it flourished. We fell into a rhythm that felt more natural than breathing. Studying side-by-side, heading to basketball practices one after the other, posting music on our shared Instagram account, we felt like we were in a tiny universe that belonged just to us.
One afternoon, we were in the jam room, lost in the middle of a recording session. I was perched on the arm of the old recliner, my legs stretched out over his lap, my heels resting on the opposite arm. It was a position we'd fallen into often—close, intimate even, but with a careful, deliberate inch of space between us where our bodies didn't touch.
"My younger self would never believe I'd be recording sappy love songs with you..." Alan laughed, after replaying a recording of our song on his phone.
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. I set my lyric notebook down. "I thought you liked singing?"
"I didn't sing much before you..." he admitted. "We had a rock band in college and I played the lead guitar. Mostly heavy metal."
A smile broke across my face. "I used to do maths listening to heavy metal."
"Lol! I thought you'd be the type to listen to classical piano music and do maths," he teased, reaching up to gently smack the back of my head.
"No," I laughed, shaking my head. "The rock music blocked out all the other noise so I could focus."
He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Why are you such a nerd, Fiz?"
The question was light, but it tapped directly into a deep well of insecurity I usually kept hidden. I don't know what made me say it. Maybe it was the way he looked at me.
"I dunno, Alan," I answered, my voice losing its playful edge. I looked directly at him, seeing the surprise flicker in his eyes at my sudden seriousness. "I'm always scared of... not being good enough. I feel like if I don't do something perfectly, I'm failing..."
I felt a lump form in my throat. I didn't know why it was so hard to talk about this, why admitting this simple fear felt like tearing a piece of my soul out and handing it to him.
Alan just placed his hand gently over mine where it rested on the recliner.
"My parents, they've always loved me," I continued, the words feeling thick and clumsy. "But I don't know why I have this anxiety that maybe if I didn't study, or maybe if I didn't listen to everything they said, they'd not love me as much." It sounded so childish saying it out loud, but it was the core of a fear that had dictated my entire life.
"Fiza, come on," Alan said, his voice soft but firm. "You know that's not true. They'd love you no matter what."
"Yeah, I guess I know that..." I whispered, though the knot in my stomach didn't loosen. "It's just... with Farzana, she gets into a lot of trouble. She doesn't do well in exams, she's always been a bit of a rebel. But everyone likes her. She's popular. She's always in fights with my mom, but they're still super close." I took a shaky breath, the comparison I'd made a thousand times in my head finally given a voice. "With me, I'm not... fun. I'm not like her."
