Page 17 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“What makes you think I’m interested?” I asked, holding my cool façade.

“I saw you flirting with her, and let’s just say I know you well. She’s Tara’s closest friend. Don’t play with her,” he warned in a tone he had never used with me before.

Love does make one do stupid things, like trying to intimidate Mihir Seth. It was…cute.

I scoffed.

“I’m serious, Mihir.” This time, Sameer’s tone was softer, pleading. “She’s going to be in our lives forever. There’s more at stake here. Tara and I love you both, and we will all end up in a sticky situation if you charm her and then dump her in a month like you usually do.”

“Give me some credit,” I countered. “And her too. We aren’t high school kids.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “She’s not for you, Mihir. She’s straightforward. She doesn’t play games. You will end up hurting her.”

“Calm down, dude. I won’t make a move.”

He nodded with relief.

“But I won’t stop her if she makes the first move. Then all bets are off.”

He unleashed a throaty laugh. “Since there’s zero chance of that happening, I think we’re good. Now, go get dinner if you’re planning on leaving soon.”

At dinner, I found my parents and spent some time talking to them.

“I’ll leave in a bit,” I informed them. “I need to be up early to prepare for the trip.”

“You’re making a big deal unnecessarily,” Dad said. “It’s just a birthday.”

“A milestone,” Mom reminded him. “If the kids want to celebrate you, let them. Give them the pleasure, Arvind.”

Dad’s silence was his approval. Sona was seated at a table directly in my line of sight, and sure enough, my mother caught me stealing glances at her.

“She’s brilliant, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” I said, turning my attention to the food.

“And she’s very nice too.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About what?” I asked nonchalantly.

“She’d make a wonderful partner for you.”

“What am I missing?” Dad asked, now intrigued by our exchange.

“It’s a young woman,” Mom whispered and patted his hand.

“Ah!” Dad said and smiled at me.

“We can finally hold out hope for grandchildren,” Mom said, then held up her hands. “If you both want that.”

If I found the kind of love my parents shared, I’d marry in a heartbeat. But such relationships didn’t come along every day, if at all. They respected each other just as fiercely as they loved, and they fought even harder. When they were in the middle of a rancorous disagreement, it was difficult to imagine they could ever be in love, but that’s who they were. Their fights lasted only a few minutes, and then they went back to business as usual. It was glorious.

“Oh, what greater joy than to have a brilliant feminist scholar as a daughter-in-law.” Mom beamed. She was a badass feminist herself, an opinionated, political woman, so it was little surprise she had taken so readily to Sona.

“Mom, we’re not getting married. I met her today. I’ve known her for a day.”

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