The Iyer House – Morning
The morning newspaper lay forgotten on the dining table.
Meera Iyer sat across from her husband, eyes thoughtful, phone resting beside her cup of coffee. “They’re… respectable people,” she said slowly. “Grounded. The boy is well-settled.”
Their daughter didn’t look up from her sketchpad. Her pencil moved with practiced ease, lines sharp and confident.
“That’s good for them,” she replied. “Not automatically good for me.”
Raghavan Iyer folded his paper. “No one is asking for an answer. Just a meeting.”
Her younger brother Karthik leaned against the doorway. “From what amma says, the family seems nice. Plus, their house has a dog.”
She finally looked up. “You’re easily bribed.”
Meera smiled softly. “They respect your career. They didn’t ask if you’d stop working.”
That made her pause.
“They only asked if you’d be open to meeting their son,” Raghavan added. “That’s all.”
Silence stretched.
“…I’ll think about it,” she said at last.
Meera exhaled in relief.
The Malhotra House – Evening
Dinner was louder than usual.
“She’s a fashion designer,” Anita Malhotra said proudly, as though the achievement already belonged to the family. “Independent. Confident.”
His sister Riya grinned. “So she won’t laugh at your jokes?”
He smirked without looking up from his phone. “That would be tragic.”
His father Vikram Malhotra set down his glass. “Her parents are clear. No pressure. No expectations.”
That caught his attention.
“They want their daughter to choose,” Vikram continued. “I respect that.”
Anita’s voice softened. “We’re only asking if you’re willing to meet her once.”
He leaned back, expression unreadable.
“A meeting doesn’t mean a yes,” he said finally.
Riya clapped once. “That’s basically a yes.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t spread rumours.”
But later that night, he found himself staring at the single photograph his mother had shown him—nothing glamorous, just a woman mid-laugh, confidence evident even in stillness.
“…One meeting,” he muttered.
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