At some point, we had to part. Sejal had brought a basket of breads, sweets, fruit, and cheese onboard. We hadn’t had time for breakfast this morning, and this was a welcome treat.
“Please, help yourself,” she told me. “And I’m so sorry. Truly.”
Sunny, even while biting into a croissant, seemed suspicious.
“Perhaps I didn’t respond well,” I began to say when Sunny wrapped an arm around my waist and pecked my hair, stirring butterflies in my belly. But I had to remember that he was playing a part, and maybe he was even acting more for his ex.
“You responded correctly,” he said.
Sejal’s shoulders deflated, and here I was truly expecting her to snap. I really wanted to know so many things that no well-mannered person would ask in this moment, but…what the heck happened between these two and did they still have feelings for each other? Was Sejal jealous? Was Sunny playing her game? Slowly, the idea of him wanting her back turned sour.
I chewed on decadent goat cheese and rustic bread knowing this was going to make me bloat in a matter of minutes, but I didn’t care. It tasted so good. And I needed something to do.
“I did not mean to manipulate anything,” she confessed, then said to Sunny, “But I’m glad that you’ve moved on and are doing…better.”
“Better” didn’t sound like a compliment, not the way Sunny tensed.
Maya and April, who wore cover-ups shaped like short kaftan dresses, joined us with effervescence and excitement about breaking out the bubbly. I’d learned that Aamar and Maya had sprung for the boat and Sejal had brought all the drinks and food.
Sunny excused himself to find the restroom, and shortly after, April took a call and Maya had to calm her down from a possible “flower disaster.” I didn’t envy brides, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I mused over how Indian brides got through planning multiple events and days of traditions and parties.
Sejal didn’t slip away to calm her friend. She must’ve seen my curiosity because she explained, “I’m backup. I have no idea how to fix wedding things. Honestly, Aamar and Maya have taken that role and they’ve been pretty good at it. I might keep them in mind when my wedding arrives.”
“Are you and Pradeep considering marriage?”
She shrugged. “That was my hope, but he’s not there yet. There was only one person I’d gotten that far with…”
Her voice trailed off as she plucked a grape from its stem and popped it into her mouth.
I quietly observed.
She said, “He must’ve told you our history?”
Ah, so she did mean Sunny was the one she’d wanted to marry, the one who got away.
I didn’t respond; instead I watched her through my polarized shades. My dad had often dealt with people who talked their heads off, liked to argue or shove their privilege down others’ throats, and what he’d learned was to stay quiet. If a person was trying to argue or push a point and the other person refused to argue back, it deflated their antagonization. If he let that person argue until they had nothing left to say, he found that they’d often shut up and realize that he didn’t care and/or they didn’t have much of an argument in the first place. Those people eventually stopped arguing with him, stopped trying to push their narrative onto him, and grew less assured about their stances.
Papa had said it was interesting to watch people with pointless views unravel themselves in the quiet.
Maybe I’d learned my take of no-drama from my father. And this was a brilliant tactic. It worked every time.
Sejal had been saying, “We dated for a long time, were thinking about engagement, you know? Of course you know. Our parents are good friends, and everyone was expecting him to propose, but well, things weren’t at the level they needed to be.”
I didn’t move or utter a sound, yet my body was relaxed.
Sejal, on the other hand, fidgeted with the stem in her hand and her expression subtly changed every couple of sentences. She’d started with haughty, then a tinge of annoyance, a pause for jealousy, annoyance again, and then her confidence eventually broke into uncertainty. Not about the story she was telling—it was probably true—but about my reaction. Or lack thereof.
“We were serious, obviously. But Sunny is a workaholic. All he cares about is work. I wanted more, needed more. He kept saying he was trying, but he wasn’t. Finally, I’d had enough.” She scoffed, as if Sunny had deeply traumatized her. “It wasn’t my fault that I went to someone else who understood.”
At that, I reacted, my brows coming together in a scowl. She’d cheated on him?
“Oh. I mean I left him for someone else, not Pradeep. It was a fling, but I don’t cheat. Anyway. I worked on Sunny for so long, and he improved. I’m sure my work must’ve paid off; he’s come a long way. You seem happy with him.”
No response. Was she expecting me to…thank her?
She shifted under my impassive glare, as if my silence was making her uncomfortable. She tucked hair behind her ear, her once confident gaze flitting to her feet. She swallowed. All signs that she was losing her conviction, questioning herself, maybe even questioning her motive for telling me all this, whatever that might be.
“Was that right?”
I wasn’t sure what she was referring to. It wasn’t right for her to take credit for who he was today.
“I didn’t have a choice. He forced my hand. But anyway. Here we are. I think he’s still mad at me. But it worked out! I hope all the work I did on him doesn’t unravel on you. He’s the type you have to keep after.”
I still hadn’t budged more than the in and out of my chest in regulated breaths.
“I guess…I’m telling you all this because if you want him to be attentive in any way, you really have to work and stay on top of it. And if you don’t mind, then good. But you should have a clear expectation with him.”
On the surface, none of this was cruel or malicious. She wasn’t trying to break us up, I didn’t think. But there was an underlying tone of something. Warning? Passing on intel?
“Oh, I hope that doesn’t affect how you feel about him.”
I smiled. “We seem to have had two totally different versions of Sunny.”
Her expression fell, if only for a second.
Her phone rang and her lips tipped in a smile. “How awkward. His parents are calling me. I have to answer.”
She held up a finger, as if I’d been talking or even interested in this one-sided conversation, and just like that, all her hubris resurfaced.
