8. Vas

8

VAS

I was five minutes out from the job site when my phone rang, and as I glanced at the caller ID, I groaned, steeled myself, and answered. "Hello, Mother."

"Vas!" She sounded utterly distraught. "I just received a most upsetting call from Sonu! She claims she's ended the engagement with you!"

"She did," I confirmed, bracing myself for the storm.

"Why didn't you call me immediately?"

"It was three in the morning where you were."

"Time has no meaning when it's my son's future hanging in the balance!" My mother's voice rose an octave. "You should have called me. I would have contacted her mother, and we could have nipped this in the bud before she announced her new attachment on social media!" The offense in her tone was palpable. "Now everyone knows! Even if she takes you back, it will appear as though you've been groveling, and you have nothing to grovel for. Sonu already confessed that this was entirely her doing, and I won't?—"

"Mother," I interjected, trying to keep my voice calm. "Please. I'm not upset."

"What do you mean you're not upset? How can you not be upset? This is your happiness we're talking about!"

"I don't believe Sonu is integral to my future happiness," I said, choosing my words carefully. "You know I don't love her, Mother."

She let out a weary sigh. "Love grows over time. You know this."

"It didn't between you and Father. You fell in love at a movie premiere."

"Yes, but?—"

"And left your previous engagements for each other."

"We did, but?—"

"You eloped to London." I didn't shout it, but I wanted to. "So, forgive me if I find it hypocritical that you're upset over something you never wanted for yourself."

"And we have suffered our fair share because of it," she declared, her voice taking on a dramatic note. "It's something I shielded you boys from, but it took many years for your father to regain his stature in the community after our impulsive actions. It nearly cost him his place in the Gujarat royal family! I don't regret it, no, but if I have the opportunity to spare you from the same sort of ostracization and grief, why not seize it? Sonu was everything you could desire in a wife—beautiful, educated, Indian..."

Indian. Of course. My parents had eloped, but at least they'd married within our culture and class. My older brother had done the same, marrying the daughter of a wealthy royal from Mumbai. Me... all I wanted right now was Jenna, but despite Sonu breaking things off, I knew there was still almost no chance I'd ever be permitted to marry her.

"I'll find you someone new," my mother declared after a tense silence. "Someone superior to Sonu, more devoted to her parents and less rebellious. I'll find you the perfect wife, I promise."

"Mother, I'm not in a hurry to marry."

"You should be," she said bluntly. "You're already thirty-two. Your brother was married when he was twenty-seven. Almost all the young men of your generation I know are married. It's high time you settled down as well, Vas. Don't fret. I'll take care of everything."

Dread settled in my stomach. "Thank you, Mother."

"And I'll have it all arranged by the time you move back. You know your father expects you home by Diwali, darling, and I'm looking forward to having you here for a while as well."

Oh hell, were they still harping on about this? "Mother, I can't simply abandon my business whenever Father demands it."

"Nonsense," she exclaimed. "You have very capable managers for precisely that reason! Besides, my son, your business is our business. Your father is one of the original investors! Isn't there some clause in there? Oh, Rashad mentioned it to me at one point, but you know I have an awful memory for contracts, something about having a say in operations..."

"Right," I said stiffly. It was true—my father had provided me with seed money before my first venture took off, and he'd maintained his slice of my ever-growing pie since then. I might not be as legally bound to do his bidding as my mother thought, but couple the shares he owned with his status as my father, and it was small wonder he believed he could order me around.

"Vas, don't sound so glum. You know your father and I only want what's best for you!"

I know.

But I was afraid that what they deemed best for me wasn't aligned with my vision of happiness. Yet what could I do? They were my parents, and I was expected to abide by their decisions about my life.

My brother had done it, and he seemed content.

But I wasn't my brother, and what made him happy wouldn't necessarily make me happy as well. I didn't want to marry the perfect bride my mother would choose for me.

I wanted Jenna.

As I ended the call, I felt a weight settling on my shoulders. The excitement of my upcoming experience with Jenna was now tinged with a bittersweet realization. I was standing at a crossroad, torn between the life I'd always known and the one I was beginning to yearn for.

The bustling construction site came into view, a tangible reminder of the empire I'd built. But for the first time, I wondered if all of this—the success, the wealth, the prestige—was worth the price of my happiness.

I parked my car and sat there a long time, lost in thought. The path ahead was unclear, fraught with obstacles and expectations. But as I pictured Jenna's smile and her infectious enthusiasm, I felt a spark of hope.

Maybe I could find a way to bridge these two worlds. To be the son my parents wanted while also pursuing the life—and the woman—I was beginning to realize I desperately wanted.