I called Mom as I walked into the auditorium, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear while trying not to drop the clipboard that had literally everything—attendance list, the PowerPoint script, the guest checklist, my soul.
"Are you guys here yet? Should I come pick you up or something?" I asked, already mentally mapping out a Plan B route if they were lost in SFO.
"No need, beta," Mom said smoothly. "We've managed. You focus on your event."
That. That tone. The oh-so-sweet, everything-is-fine-when-everything-is-not-fine tone. I knew it too well. I bit back the hundred questions I wanted to ask and just nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Okay… see you soon."
The call ended, and I was immediately hit with the chaos of workshop prep: tables half-set, projector half-working, people half-showing-up. I was barely holding it together.
And then Aditya strolled in.
Of course he did.
"Hey," he said, all charming smiles and cool confidence. "Need a hand?"
I blinked. "Uh—yes. Actually, yes, I do."
Within minutes, we were arranging pamphlets and name tags like a well-oiled machine. I hated how easy it was to work with him sometimes. Ugh. He made some lame joke about the label printer being more dramatic than a Bollywood villain, and I actually laughed. Genuinely.
Meanwhile, Ethan was across the room fiddling with the mic system, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. I tried not to glance at him way too often, which obviously meant I kept glancing his way way too often.
Cue Noah, who slid in next to Ethan like he'd been waiting for his cue.
I didn't hear their whole conversation, but I caught bits—weather, classes, the workshop. Then Noah said something with my name in it and I froze for a second, but before it could get juicy, Professor Hayward called Ethan over. He left quickly, but he looked… bothered. Like he'd just been handed a puzzle and all the pieces were blurry.
I shook it off.
Amelia and Jhonathan showed up next, holding iced coffees like they were on a caffeine-fueled date. "We're testing cafés for Alexis and Ethan's future dates," Amelia said innocently, then bumped Jhonathan's arm.
I deadass choked on my own breath.
"Are you two—?" I started, but Amelia just grinned and walked off with Jhonathan like they were the stars of their own rom-com spin-off. Honestly? Good for her.
The workshop started. The room filled. Parents, professors, even some psychology alumni. I opened the session, smiled through nerves, and moderated the panel with Ethan like we hadn't almost kissed a few weeks ago and like I hadn't nearly had a panic attack in his bathroom. Normal!
My parents arrived halfway through.
No hug. No smile. No wave. They just sat down and watched. Judging, quietly, like they were measuring every word, every move. My heart did this weird drop-roll-flip combo but I powered through.
The session ended. People clapped. I exhaled. A lot of people came up to thank us—Ethan got mobbed, because of course he did—and then my parents approached.
"You handled that well," Dad said.
"We didn't want to interrupt," Mom added. "You seemed busy."
Translation: We were watching. You didn't fail. Yet.
I smiled. Said thank you. Tried not to let my insides cave in.
Then, the real chaos began. Mom started talking to Aditya like they were old BFFs. "You two look so good together," she said. "You should stay in touch more, right?"
I wanted the ground to eat me whole. Ethan was standing nearby, hearing everything. I glanced at him—he looked stone-faced. Not angry. Not sad. Just… blank. Like a locked door.
Then the interrogation round began. Where do you see yourself in five years? Have you kept in touch with our family friends? Do you know how hard we worked to get here today? What are your grades like? Are you eating enough? Do you talk to Aditya often? Are you SURE he's not your boyfriend?
Eventually, my parents went off to get dinner. I told them I'd wrap up and join them soon. Aditya added, "We'll grab dinner later."
We. As in we.
I glared at him but my parents beamed. They finally left.
Aditya and I were left alone, stacking chairs and folding tablecloths.
"So," he said, wiping his hands, "are we engaged or something?"
I smacked his arm. "Shut up. You cannot be serious."
He grinned.
What I didn't know—what I felt more than saw—was that Ethan had just walked back into the room.
And heard that.
The silence that followed was louder than the question.
He didn't say anything. He just watched. And walked out.
I wanted to scream. But I kept smiling. I kept packing. I kept existing.
Hours later, I was finally home. I threw my bag on the floor, curled up on my bed, and whispered, "What a day."
Then my phone buzzed.
Mom: Come to our hotel tomorrow morning.
Dad: We need to talk.
I stared at the screen.
I was a wreck.
And that was the end of it.
Or maybe just the beginning.
—-
The morning started like any other post-event hangover. My body ached, my brain felt like cotton, and my phone had approximately eighty bajillion notifications. Group chats, workshop feedback, three emails from Professor N, and a text from Aditya saying, "You alive or what?"
Cute. I ignored it.
I dragged myself out of bed, half-crawled to the bathroom, and splashed my face with cold water like I was trying to erase the entire day before. It didn't work.
Because no amount of scrubbing could erase the memory of Ethan's face when he overheard that joke from Aditya. That one moment where everything turned sideways. His eyes weren't just sad or confused—they were... retreating. Like he was pulling every piece of himself back into a box I wouldn't be allowed to open again.
I shook it off.
Kind of.
Eventually, I threw on a hoodie, twisted my hair into a messy bun, and was about to crash on my bed when my phone buzzed again.
Mom: Remember to come to our hotel.
Right, I almost forgot, how could I've forgotten?
The words hit like a brick wall. My stomach did that awful twisting thing, like the floor was disappearing beneath me. No context. No warning. Just a five-word sentence and a world of unspoken doom behind it.
I texted back a simple: On my way.
Thirty minutes later, I was in an Uber, fingers drumming on the seat, legs bouncing uncontrollably. My reflection in the car window looked like someone halfway through a panic attack. And honestly? Same.
When I reached the hotel, I took the elevator up to the ninth floor. Room 914. I knocked once.
The door opened. Mom stood there, sari perfect, hair pinned like she'd just walked out of a family wedding photo. Dad was seated near the window, scrolling through his phone like this was just another Wednesday night.
They didn't say anything at first.
"Sit," Mom finally said.
So I did. Like a prisoner in an interrogation room.
"We watched the workshop," Dad began, placing his phone down. "You did well."
"Yes," Mom nodded. "Very composed. Confident. You seemed… established."
This was not a compliment. This was a warning.
"We wanted to wait till the event was over to bring this up," Dad said, adjusting his cufflinks even though he was in a kurta. "We didn't want to disturb your—presentation."
Presentation? I wanted to laugh. Scream. Cry. I did none of those things.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Just tell me."
Mom sighed, deeply. "Aditya is a good boy. We like him. His parents like you. You've known each other since you were children."
And there it was.
The engagement conversation. Wrapped in pretty packaging. Served on a hotel room platter.
"No one's asking you to marry him right now," Dad added quickly, like that would help. "We're just saying—it's time to think about your future. Realistically."
Realistically.
As if my current life was some kind of whimsical fever dream. As if Berkeley, psychology, late-night sketching, and Ethan—especially Ethan—were all things I was supposed to outgrow.
"I am thinking about my future," I said tightly. "Just not the one you've planned."
Mom looked hurt. Not surprised. Just disappointed. Like she'd known this would happen and hoped she'd been wrong.
"We aren't trying to force you," she said gently. "We just think Aditya is a good match. You two look natural together. Even Ethan thought so."
My chest caved in.
They saw that. The joke. The moment. Him walking away.
"This isn't about Aditya," I said. "This is about control. It always is."
The room fell silent.
Dad cleared his throat. "Think about it, Alexis. Just think about it. That's all we're asking."
But it wasn't. It was never just thinking. It was expectations dressed as suggestions. Pressure gift-wrapped as love.
I nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll think."
A lie.
We exchanged a few more polite nothings before I finally left. I stepped into the hallway and exhaled like I'd been underwater.
My phone buzzed again.
Ethan: Hey, you okay?
Just two words. But it broke me.
I didn't answer. Not yet.
Because I didn't even know what "okay" looked like anymore.