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I never liked when my mom mentioned marriage. It made me anxious, unfocused. It made my fists clench and caused my heart to beat faster.
Although my heart was soft and frail, I secretly liked adventure, daring things. Little moments of fireworks in between the quiet nights. Staying up late felt daring. Dreaming of roof topping with my friends felt daring. Hoping to touch the sky felt daring.
I was the first to help out the lost traveler on the sidewalk but the last to back away from something that may have the potential to hurt me.
And I believed marriage was what would limit all of these things.
Perhaps that's why I was so entranced when I met him.
He promised me nothing yet everything at the same time. A world full of possibilities, but his presence was never guaranteed. He opened the gateway to adventure, but never promised he would follow me through it.
I still took the chance. I took a dare to run over knives by acquainting myself with him and expecting him to stay by me.
And he did. For a while.
A long while.
It made me start to believe that he would stay forever. That instead of just being the guy giving me playful smirks that made my heart flip flop, he would become the guy who would whisk me away in a lehenga after our nikah, kissing my forehead.
Yes, he even made me reconsider my thoughts on marriage. I envisioned a life with him and only him. I wanted to wake up to see him smiling at me, wanted to walk down the stairs and see him have breakfast laid out for me, wanted to adjust his tie before he went to work, wanted to snuggle in his arms as we watched a romcom by the fireplace on a cold winter night.
I wanted to be his.
Too bad he didn't want the same.
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translations:
lehenga: a south asian cultural floor-length, often pleated / embroidered skirt worn on ceremonial occasions such as weddings
