Page 7 of Everything She Wanted

I’m imagining things, like always.

I tug my coat around me even tighter, suddenly feeling cold despite the sun’s warm rays peeking through the early morning clouds.

2. #WTF

I exit the elevators and turn toward my office, then, at the last second, I turn around, remembering to drop off my lunch in the kitchen. When I turn the corner, I see that a meeting is already happening in the boardroom. When I see him sitting next to the CEO and all the VPs, I nearly drop my latte.

I often wondered if I would recognize those piercing blue eyes in the daylight, but here they are. I remember him perfectly—the strong line of his jaw, his hair like radiant golden beams of light framing his flawless face, and the precision of his appearance, without even a hair out of place. His eyes meet mine. His gaze is thoughtful yet intense, and I catch a flicker of something. I abruptly pull my eyes away, even though all I want to do is stare. I try to walk casually instead of bolting, but my heel snags on the plush carpet and I almost tumble.

The night we met comes back in a blur, and I almost can’t catch my breath. I immediately feel his presence, and it warms me. I want to burst into the meeting to talk to him again, even if just for a moment. I also want to hide away. Blood rushes to my cheeks at the thought of how he made me feel with just a few words.

I get to my office, slide the door closed, hang up my coat, pull on one of the blazers I keep at work, and put away my bag. Sunlight streams in through my window and lights up the bright white surface of my desk like Diwali diyas, overtaking the darkness and marking a new beginning. I would usually take a moment to embrace the beauty of this moment, but today I force myself to get to work. If I keep busy, I can ignore the emotions gathering like heavy rainclouds inside of me.

I sit at my desk and log in, but I can’t focus on a single word as I look through my emails. Instead, my mind zeroes in on him.

What is he doing here?

Why would he show up now?

Why didn’t he try to find me?

My palms are slick and my office seems stuffy around me as my thoughts spiral.

It all felt too unreal to be desirable to someone like him. Someone who was so effortlessly confident and charismatic, not to mention ridiculously hot. Someone who could have anyone, and now he probably had someone who wasn’t me. I had someone, too, who wasn’t him, and just the thought of Eshaan makes me feel guilty for being so thrown off by a guy I only met once casually in a bar.

Eshaan’s a good fit for you, Nisha. The kind of guy your father would have approved of.

My mom’s words resound in my head. She’s right. Dad would have loved him.

Within a few weeks of dating, Eshaan told me he had never met anyone like me. At first, I was a little overwhelmed by his rapt attention, the over-the-top gifts (although I can’t say I minded too much when it came to the Chanel handbag), and extravagant gestures, like the surprise birthday party her threw for me at the poshest West Vancouver venue last year. He invited all our friends to celebrate my birthday in a Great Gatsby-themed party—well, mostly his friends, but Rachel was there. Six months into our relationship, we started talking about marriage, and now we’re planning our engagement party.

The thing is, I thought there would be fireworks when I finally met the one, but that’s probably not even a thing. An unrealistic expectation after growing up watching too many Bollywood movies.

Eshaan checks all the boxes on the things that matter.

He’s been wonderful with my family. He brought flowers for my mom and gifts for my nephew on his first visit to Toronto. Mom even started tearing up, and it’s the first time I felt a sliver of approval from her. I could almost hear the sigh of relief when I found someone who met her expectations. He took us all out for dinner and didn’t shy away when the next day, Mom unexpectedly invited everyone to meet him—even though it was a lot even for me, having all my extended family there, asking questions, and prying into our future. He held himself well through it all and was there for me when he sensed my discomfort. He even stood up for me when a family friend, after way too many drinks, brought up me dating my gay best friend, Sunny.

I didn’t think you would ever find anyone. Not how you are.

I ruminate on my mom’s words, along with memories they bring with them of the years of lackluster dates and endless nights spent swiping through dating profiles while trying to avoid my mom’s matchmaking attempts.

I have someone amazing now. I breathe deeper to try to quell the familiar waves of unease when I think about my past.

Eshaan is the one for me. End of discussion.

I’ve moved on in a big way, and I have to step back into the shiny new reality I carefully curated over the past year. I continue to nudge away the unsettling feeling in my chest and return to what gets me through everything: work.

I’m diving deep into the fifth round of edits on a marketing plan for the upcoming relaunch of our website. The changes are minimal but still annoying to go through. The VP of Communications has written, “Add more details here,” next to the key messages. I don’t know exactly what she’s referring to, so I’ll take my best guess.

I’ve almost gotten my mind off Bar Guy. I don’t know why he’s here, but I know it won’t have anything to do with me. I recall him mentioning that he worked in IT, and I only ever speak with the IT team about translating their product-specifications jargon into layperson’s terms.

I wonder if he’s just here for the meeting, or if he’s here to stay. The office is big enough that I probably won’t run into him anytime anyway, but still, my stomach flutters with nerves at the thought.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I almost don’t hear the knock at my door.

“Nish.” Jess, my work bestie and the office admin, slides the door open. Her shiny, dark brown bob settles perfectly on her shoulders and her light brown skin glows under the fluorescent lights. She’s usually all smiles, but today her expertly shaped brows are pinched together and she’s not her usual bubbly self. She must be stressed—she didn’t even send me a silly GIF on our work chat this morning.

“I messaged you like five minutes ago.”