The car kept waiting

The grey car unsettled me more than the men did. They were crude enough to be honest. The car sat there like patience itself, and I could not decide whether that made it an accomplice or a sentinel.

I keep thinking about Suresh’s warning and how much I resented him for making me take it seriously. If I prove him right, I will not feel relieved. I will feel stupid that I needed him to point at the obvious.

Anika’s voice still sounds rehearsed when she says she is safe. I am not ready to call that a lie, but I hate how easily danger can borrow a reassuring voice. I wanted to hear what frightened her more: Suresh, the wedding, or the idea that everyone around her has already decided who she belongs to.

How badly I want to be the one they call when the truth begins. I have spent years making myself ordinary, useful only after someone else has paid for my trouble. I would like one family to understand that I am not the engineering dropout they mention as a warning. But I would never say that aloud. Saying it would give them the satisfaction of hearing how much their opinion still reaches me.

At the window, the driver signalled toward me. Such a small movement, almost friendly. I watched and waited instead of reacting, and I hated how frightened that patience made me. I could have chased the car. I could have followed the men. I chose neither because I was afraid of giving them exactly the nervous reaction they expected.