Page 86 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“No?” I frowned.

“I mean, this is stupid.”

“I don’t get it. Is that a no?”

She finally removed the hands shielding her face. “I want you to meet my parents first.”

“Alright, but is that a yes or a no?”

“A provisional yes.”

“Contingent on your parents’ approval?”

“Not approval, but I want them to fall in love with you for who you are, not who you will be.”

“Their son-in-law?”

She nodded.

“Uh, that sounds complicated.” I lay back on the bed as she crossed her legs and sat upright.

“They’ve always supported me, and I want them to be a part of this decision.”

“May I venture a wild guess here?” I asked.

She clutched her hands and returned a silent nod.

“They didn’t meet Ajay until you’d already declared you were marrying him, and after it was over, they confessed they felt something was off about him, but they didn’t want to sour your relationship. And now, you want to make sure your decision aligns with their parental instincts.”

When her jaw dropped, I closed it with my finger. “Yeah, I am that smart. Well, let’s get it done then. When can I meet them?”

“This summer? I’ll be in India for my fieldwork. Can you visit then?”

“Done. I’ll put it on my calendar and have my agent book the tickets the moment I return to Dallas.”

“And Mihir, that was most certainly a yes,” she said and leapt into my arms to kiss me.

Later that evening, while we waited for the pizza, she showed me her baby pictures. “I’ve digitized all my pictures. My family calls me kabaadi because I collect all kinds of scraps—pictures of long-gone relatives, diaries, journals, and newspaper clippings. A good scholar knows the best place to find women’s histories is in private spaces and personal relationships. Look, here’s another one.”

“You’re very cute, although I can hardly see your eyes with that massive amount of kajal in them.”

“Hey, don’t tease.” She nudged me with her elbow. “All kids had kajal smeared in their eyes and a big, black dot on the side of the forehead to protect from the evil eye.”

“I don’t remember kajal in mine.”

“Where are your baby pictures?”

“In a box, tucked safely inside Mom’s closet.”

“So you don’t have a single one you can show me right now?”

“Why? Are you curious to see how our baby would look like, if we decide to have one?” I teased quite innocuously, but she blushed.

“No,” she said, and hit my chest.

“Oh! That was the reason you wanted to see my pictures!” I heckled her further. “In that case, I promise to send you some when I’m back.”

The next weekend, I went over to my parents’ house. I didn’t tell Mom I was coming to get my pictures because I didn’t want her to go through her massive closet alone. Instead, I invited myself over for dinner, which made her incredibly happy.

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