**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 following weeks Alan slowly, quietly detached himself from me.
At first, it was small things. Texts that would sit for hours with a "delivered" tag before I'd get a brief, distant reply. Then, our study sessions in the library dwindled. He started saying he concentrated better at home.
The worst was the music. When I suggested going to the jam room, he would have an excuse ready. "Too swamped," or "Not feeling it today."
I told myself it was fine. He was busy. He was taking the third year subjects seriously. Maybe he needed space from my constant, needy presence. Maybe he was finally seeing other people properly and didn't want to hurt me by talking about it. I had told him I didn't want to know, after all. This was just him respecting that boundary.
He belonged to me, and I to him. That was an immutable truth. I knew, with absolute certainty, that Alan loved me. Even if he didn't yet realize it himself. I told myself that he was simply afraid of commitment, that everything would work out as it should in the end. It was the only way I could maintain any semblance of sanity.
But knew I was lying to myself. This was a withdrawal, not just a busy schedule.
And I knew exactly why. It was all because of what I had said that drunken night. I had told him I wanted more than friendship, that I couldn't settle for just being his best friend and it had scared him. He didn't wish to encourage my feelings and was slowly ending our friendship. I had lost my best friend. And it was my fault.
My pride was my only shield. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me hurt by his. I accepted every excuse with a neutral smile, a nod. I stopped asking him to study. I stopped suggesting songs.
Within a month, a new routine solidified. We were cordial teammates during basketball practice. He always waved at me when he saw me, sometimes he's stop and make some small talk and then we'd go our separate ways. The best friend who knew my deepest fears and my most secret dreams was gone, replaced by a pleasant acquaintance named Alan.
During one of our basketball practices, I noticed Jyothi approaching Alan. A familiar pang of unease settled in my chest as I watched their interaction.
But as I watched Jyothi laughing and talking with him, the truth became harsh and undeniable. Alan, my Alan, was going to be with someone else. Maybe he already was.
The pain that lanced through me was physical, a visceral ache. I found myself sitting on the hard ground of the basketball court, tears streaming down my face before I could stop them. Alan remained oblivious, his attention focused elsewhere.
"Hey!" Anusha, the captain of the girls' team, rushed to my side. "Fiza, what happened?"
I shook my head, feeling embarrassed beyond measure. The other girls gathered around, offering quiet words of comfort and support. It was mortifying, this public display of weakness, but I couldn't stem the flow of tears.
