Page 50 of The Mismatch

How many times can you ring someone before it’s just embarrassing? She had already rung three times and sent numerous text messages.

To begin with, she thought he may have just been late, but now she had a sinking suspicion that she had been stood up. Either that, or he had forgotten, a thought equally terrible in that moment. Like whatever they had was forgettable. Her jaw was tight, and her mood rotated between irritation, anger, slight optimism and then humiliation, in a loop. Ultimately, though, she was stupid to think she mattered to him, that he wouldn’t drop her suddenly, like he did with all the other girls he had been with before.

So instead of ringing him again she texted Oliver and Priya to explain that she’d been stood up.

PriyaThe question is … WHY ARE YOU STILL SEEING HIM? I thought this was a temporary thing?!

SorayaIt is, but that’s not really the point.

OliverHow … odd. You may as well come back home. We ordered Dominos.

SorayaWhat if something’s happened to him??

PriyaI hope something has happened to him. Respect yourself and leave. NOW.

Despite her harsh words at times, Soraya knew Priya didn’t mean to offend. Oliver had coined the phrase, ‘That’s just Priya,’ to excuse her bad behaviour. Over the years Soraya had learnt how to handle her when she became too much, her opinions grating.

She locked her phone. Magnus was now forty minutes late.

On the bus home she kept expecting him to message or ring. But nothing.

Once in her flat she could hear Priya and Oliver chatting in the living room. She prepared herself. A strong smell of cheese and oil hit her and she instantly needed a slice of pizza, slipping back into her old ways of comfort eating. She hadn’t even realised she’d stopped doing it since seeing Magnus.

Priya looked like she wanted to say something, but Oliver spoke before she could.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ Soraya lied. ‘I mean, maybe his phone ran out of battery or something.’

‘Why did neither of you tell me you were still seeing him?’ Priya asked in an accusatory tone, clearly not reading the room.

Oliver picked up a large slice of pizza and took his time chewing it.

‘I mean I’m still using him,’ Soraya said, aware Oliver knew she was blatantly lying, her voice wavering. ‘Can we just not talk about it?’ She sat on the sofa with them.

They watchedWill & Gracereruns in silence.

‘Oh, God, is this what ghosting is?’ Soraya suddenly asked. ‘I’ve heard about it but never thought I’d actually experience it …’

Oliver passed her the last slice of pizza, which she took silently. It was lukewarm and doughy in her hands. She took a bite, chewing loudly but tasting nothing.

‘That’s a yes then,’ she continued. ‘How fucking embarrassing. You know, I was meant to be the one to end it. Not him.’

‘I never get why it’s called ghosting. Isn’t the whole point that ghosts don’t go away?’ Priya said. Oliver and Soraya looked at her wordlessly. ‘I’m just saying.’

Perhaps this was just karma for attempting to play with a player.

CHAPTER 24

Neda

Tehran, 1977

As was traditional, a tray of herbs and spices, a silver-plated mirror, hard-shell nuts, painted eggs, a large Quran, coins, sweets and a needle and thread had all been laid on an expensive silk sofreh. It symbolised the joining of two forces and was considered a token of good luck, from the family and from Allah.

Neda had fought hard for this, for Hossein, for the right to be his wife, and now that their wedding was about to happen she was surprised by her physical reaction to the commitment she was making. Her stomach churned; her entire body felt jittery, adrenaline pumping. In many ways she knew such feelings were perfectly normal; what bride didn’t feel nervous before her wedding? Who didn’t have doubts in the back of their mind? Anyone who said they didn’t, Neda knew, was lying. Saving face because they assumed such thoughts were unusual. It was an endless cycle of deception. Marriage was putting yourself into someone else’s hands and accepting one future out of many different options. But it was also a great thing. It was the joining of two people, and meant gaining a companion for life. This would be the start of Neda’s adult life, really. So it was no wonder she was nervous aboutmaking such a change. That was what she told herself, repeatedly.

Facing her, in the room where she and her family slept, the room she grew up in, were Hossein, his mum, Maman, Baba, and their two respective Imams. Neda and Hossein sat on wooden chairs next to each other whilst everyone else stood, looming over them, not helping her anxiety.