Imran's Answer · Second Shift · Pulse Beat
She told him on the same bench on Marine Drive. It was dusk, the lights of Nariman Point just beginning to come on across the bay. The sea was the colour of slate. Imran sat with his hands on his…
She told him on the same bench on Marine Drive.
It was dusk, the lights of Nariman Point just beginning to come on across the bay. The sea was the colour of slate. Imran sat with his hands on his knees, in his best shirt, looking straight ahead. When she had finished he did not say anything for a long time.
"Five and a half years," he said finally.
"And then an internship. And probably a postgraduation. It's a long time. I'm not asking you to wait."
"I know you're not." He turned. His round, kind face was calm. "Fatima. I have been waiting for four years. I thought I was waiting for you to say yes. I think now I was waiting for you to become who you were going to be." He took a breath. "I'm not going to ask you to marry me this year."
She felt her throat tighten. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He smiled. "I'm going to repair radios and watch you become a doctor. And when you finish, I'm going to ask you again." He paused. "If I'm still in Thane. If you'll still speak to me."
"I'll speak to you," she said, laughing and weeping at once. "Of course I'll speak to you."