As the evening sky turned a warm shade of orange, Kinjal stood outside the door of her childhood home, gripping the strap of her handbag tightly. She had spent the entire ride here debating with herself—was this the right decision? Should she even bring up the topic of marriage tonight? Or should she ease into it?

She exhaled sharply. No. If not today, then when?

Gathering every ounce of courage, she rang the doorbell. Within seconds, her mother opened the door, her face lighting up with warmth and surprise.

“Arre, Kinjal?” her mother beamed, immediately pulling her inside. “You came without telling? What a surprise! Come, sit.”

The familiar scent of home wrapped around Kinjal like a soft embrace. The house was just as she had left it—her father’s newspaper neatly stacked on the side table, the faint sound of Gujarati news playing from the television, and the warm aroma of her mother’s evening chai lingering in the air.

“Where’s Papa?” Kinjal asked as she stepped inside.

“He’s in his study, busy with work as usual,” her mother replied, calling out, “Kush! See who’s home!”

A moment later, her younger brother, Kush, appeared from his room, his phone in hand and wireless earbuds plugged in. The moment he spotted Kinjal, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Di!” he exclaimed, rushing over to give her a side hug. “You finally remembered you have a family, huh?”

Kinjal rolled her eyes, ruffling his hair. “Shut up, Kush.”

“Bas, bas, don’t mess up my hair.” He swatted her hand away playfully. “What’s up? You usually just call; why the sudden visit?”

Kinjal hesitated for a split second before plastering on a smile. “What? Can’t I come to see my family without a reason?”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “That’s exactly why I’m suspicious.”

Before Kinjal could respond, her father walked into the living room, adjusting his glasses as he looked at her. His expression was neutral, as always—never too soft, never too harsh.

“Kinjal,” he greeted with a nod, sitting down in his usual chair. “You came alone?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Hm.” He picked up his tea and took a sip. “You had dinner?”

Kinjal smiled lightly. This was his way of asking if she was doing okay. “Not yet. I was hoping to eat with you all.”

Her mother grinned, patting her arm. “Good. I’ll make your favorite.”

Dinner was pleasant, filled with casual conversations and light teasing. Kinjal kept up the act, laughing at Kush’s jokes and engaging in harmless banter with her father about business. But the entire time, the weight of her real purpose pressed heavily on her chest.

Halfway through the meal, she finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Papa, I actually came here today because I need to talk to you about something important.”

Her father looked up from his plate, setting his spoon down. Her mother, too, straightened, while Kush simply blinked in curiosity.

Kinjal took a deep breath. “Shubman’s family sent a marriage proposal for me. They want to meet you all.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then her father let out a soft, almost amused chuckle. “Marriage proposal? From his family?”

Kinjal nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

Her mother’s hand stilled over her plate. “Kinjal, beta, what are you saying?”

Her father’s amusement faded, replaced by a serious expression. “And you’re considering this?”

Kinjal swallowed. “Yes, Papa. I love him.”

Her father scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if she had said something ridiculous. “Love? Since when did love become a reason for marriage?”

Her mother sighed, placing her spoon down. “Kinjal, we’ve already discussed this. You know we want a Gujarati boy for you. Someone from our culture, our caste, someone who speaks our language—”

Kinjal interrupted, her tone firmer now. “Shubman understands me, Mummy. He respects me. He does understand Gujarati! He’s been playing for Gujarat Titans for years; he’s picked up a lot.”

Her father let out a humorless chuckle. “Understanding a few words isn’t enough, Kinjal. Marriage isn’t just about two people; it’s about two families. And our families are nothing alike.”

Kinjal clenched her fists under the table. “So what if he’s Punjabi? He treats me better than any so-called ‘perfect’ Gujarati boy ever could.”

Her mother’s expression softened, but the disappointment in her eyes stung. “Beta, we are only thinking about your happiness. You know how difficult inter-caste marriages are. It’s not just about today; it’s about the future. The cultural differences, the way of living—”

Kinjal cut in sharply. “And what if I say that this is my choice? That I don’t need you to make this decision for me?”

Her father’s expression darkened instantly. “Mind your tone, Kinjal.”

Kush, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. “Di, do you really want to marry him? Like, you’re serious about this?”

Kinjal turned to her brother, the only one in the room she hoped might understand. “Yes, Kush. I love him. And he loves me. But more than that, we respect each other. And that’s more important than any caste or language.”

Kush nodded slowly, absorbing her words.

Her father, however, had had enough. He placed his napkin down and spoke in a cold, final tone. “This marriage is not happening. We will not entertain this discussion any further.”

Kinjal’s stomach twisted. “Papa, please, just meet them once. Give them a chance.”

Her mother reached for her hand, her voice softer but still firm. “Kinjal, you don’t understand. The society, the relatives, the expectations—we have to think about everything.”

Kinjal’s patience snapped. “Why do you care so much about what society thinks? What about what I want? My happiness?”

Her father’s voice was sharp. “Then you’ll have to make a choice, Kinjal. Either you follow our decision, or you walk away from this family.”

The air grew unbearably heavy.

Kinjal’s breath hitched. She had expected resistance, but not this—an outright ultimatum.

Her mother looked heartbroken, her father looked furious, and Kush… he just looked torn.

her hands trembling. “I don’t want to choose between my family and the person I love. But if you’re forcing me… then I won’t give up on Shubman. I will marry him, with or without your blessing.”

-------

Kinjal’s heart pounded in her chest as the weight of her father’s cold rejection settled over the table like a dark cloud.

“This marriage is not happening. We will not entertain this discussion any further,” her father had declared, his voice unwavering, his authority final.

But Kinjal was not a little girl anymore who would nod silently and accept his decisions.

She inhaled sharply, gripping her spoon so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Papa, you can’t just decide this for me. It’s my life, my relationship—”

Her father scoffed, shaking his head. “Tame samjhta nathi, Kinjal.

(You don’t understand, Kinjal.)

This is about more than just you. Marriage is about two families coming together. And we cannot mix with them.”

“Them?!” Kinjal’s voice rose slightly, anger bubbling inside her. “Shubman’s family isn’t some outsiders! They are good people! They want to meet you—”

Her mother sighed, placing her hand over Kinjal’s arm as if to calm her down. “Beta, we are thinking about your future. You know how difficult inter-caste marriages are. The cultures, the traditions… Punjabi people are different from us. They live differently, think differently—”

Kinjal pulled her hand away. “So what if they’re different? That doesn’t make them wrong.”

Her father’s expression hardened. “Kinjal, our community expects us to maintain our traditions. What will people say if my daughter marries outside her caste?”

Kinjal let out a bitter laugh. “Ah, there it is. ‘What will people say?’ That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Society? Relatives? Log kya kahenge?”

Her father slammed his palm on the table, making everyone jump. “Buss! I will not be disrespected in my own house!”

Kinjal’s mother flinched, and Kush, who had been silently watching the fight unfold, finally spoke. “Di, just calm down—”

“No, Kush, I will not calm down!” Kinjal snapped, turning toward her father. “I am sick of living my life by what others think! I love Shubman, and I will not leave him just because society has a problem with it!”

Her father’s face turned red with fury. “Then leave this house and go to him if he’s so important to you!”

The words hit like a slap.

The room went eerily silent. Even her mother gasped.

Kinjal stared at her father in disbelief. “You’re actually telling me to leave my own house? Just because I want to marry someone I love?”

Her mother quickly intervened, her voice breaking. “Kinjal, your father doesn’t mean that—”

“I do mean it,” her father interrupted, his tone icy. “If she cannot respect her parents’ wishes, then she is free to make her own decisions. But she will not do it under my roof.”

Tears stung Kinjal’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her father’s words cut deep, but she wouldn’t break.

Kush ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Papa, this is crazy! You can’t just kick her out over this!”

“Kush, stay out of this!” their father barked.

Kush looked helplessly at Kinjal, who was still staring at their father in shock. She opened her mouth to argue again, to fight back—but then, she saw her mother.

Her mother was looking at her with pleading eyes, silently begging her not to escalate things further.

Kinjal swallowed the lump in her throat, her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to fight more. She wanted to scream that they were being unfair. But she knew where this was going—if she

--------

Kinjal’s Apartment – 12:36 AM

The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as Kinjal sat on the kitchen counter, absently stirring the melting ice cubes in her coffee with a spoon. The bitter taste lingered on her tongue, but it wasn’t the coffee that made her feel drained—it was the evening’s chaos.

Her phone, lying beside her, vibrated again.

She let out a deep sigh, knowing exactly who it was without looking. Shubman had been blowing up her phone for the past two hours. Even Shahneel had messaged her. But she couldn’t bring herself to reply.

Her fingers hesitated before finally unlocking the screen.

Shubman (25+ Messages, 10 Missed Calls)

11:21 PM
Kinjal, call me.

11:27 PM
I know you saw my texts. Just talk to me once.

11:30 PM
Babe, please. I need to know what happened.

11:36 PM
Did your parents react badly?

11:42 PM
Are you okay? I’m literally going crazy here.

11:45 PM
Fine. If you don’t want to text, at least tell me you’re safe.

11:52 PM
Shahneel said she will talk to you, but I need to hear from you myself.

12:02 AM
Kinjal.

12:08 AM
If you don’t reply, I swear I’m driving to your place right now.

12:15 AM
Alright, that’s it. I’m coming.

12:20 AM
Wait. No, Vayra just told me not to. But I don’t care. I need to see you.

12:27 AM
Please don’t push me away, love. Let me be there for you.

Kinjal bit her lip, feeling the lump rise in her throat. She scrolled further down.

Shahneel (4 Messages)

11:55 PM
Heyy, I know my brother is probably spamming you rn, but please talk to him.

12:00 AM
I won’t pressure you, but I can tell he’s really anxious. Just let him know you’re okay?

12:10 AM
If you need space, take it. But don’t push him away. He loves you, Kinjal.

12:30 AM
Text me when you’re ready. We’re here for you, okay?

Kinjal exhaled slowly, placing her phone back down. She ran a hand through her messy hair, feeling exhaustion settle in her bones.

Her mind was a storm.

She knew Shubman would keep his word—he would show up at her door any minute if she didn’t respond. She didn’t doubt it for a second. But right now, she just… didn’t have the energy to talk. To explain.

Her parents’ rejection, their harsh words, her father’s ultimatum—it was all too much.

She took another sip of her coffee, staring blankly at the dark kitchen.

Kinjal sighed, rubbing her temples as she picked up her phone. She knew Shubman was probably pacing in his room, restless and worried. She didn’t want to talk—not yet—but she also couldn’t let him show up unannounced.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she finally typed a message.

Kinjal:

12:37 AM Shubman, don’t come over. I’m fine. Just… not in the mood to talk right now. Please don’t call anymore.

She stared at the screen for a moment, her chest feeling heavier with every second that passed. Before he could reply, she switched off her phone and placed it face down on the counter.

The kitchen felt eerily silent now.

She hopped off the counter, taking her coffee with her as she walked toward the living room. Vayra’s room door was closed, but Kinjal knew her best friend wasn’t asleep. She had probably heard the yelling at dinner through the phone and was waiting for Kinjal to talk about it.

But Kinjal didn’t want to.

Not now.

She curled up on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the dark TV screen.

Her parents' voices still echoed in her head.

"Kinjal, tu samjhe che ke nai?! Aa badhu natak bandh kar!"

(Kinjal, do you understand or not?! Stop this drama!)

"Ae chokro Punjabi che! Tu ek Gujarati chokra sathe lagan karvanu, je aapda jiva hoi!"

(That boy is Punjabi! You should marry a Gujarati boy, someone like us!)

"Tu aam jyaare pan chhodavi ne jai che, pan aavi vaat na uthave! Aama amne koi ras nathi!"

(You already live separately, but don’t bring up such topics! We have no interest in this!)

"Jo tu aavi vaat feri ek vaar pan kari, toh amara parivar ma taru koi jagya nai!"

(If you bring this up even once more, then you have no place in our family!)

Kinjal squeezed her eyes shut.

She had known this would happen. She had known this would be a disaster. And yet, a small part of her had still hoped that maybe, just maybe, her parents would listen.

But they didn’t.

And now, she had to figure out what to do next.