Ah, the prelude to our theatrical union—the dinner where families would meet, exchange pleasantries, and pretend that love bloomed naturally. The cab ride was a mix of nerves and rehearsed smiles. My parents, sister, and brother—all in on the charade—sat with me, their expressions a blend of curiosity and anticipation.

And there they were, Kai and his parents, punctual as ever. Kai’s mom, the architect of this grand illusion, greeted us with warmth. I wondered if she saw through our façade or if she, too, played her part with practiced grace.

The seating arrangement—the unspoken choreography of arranged meetings. You, the reluctant heroine, find yourself next to Kai, the enigmatic leading man. His lack of smiles? Well, that’s just his mysterious charm, or so he’d like us to believe.

 “Sia, my son told me a lot about you.” I wondered what tales Kai had spun—my culinary prowess, my discipline. Lies, all of it. But I played my part, smiling and nodding as if this were a well-rehearsed scene.

My own mother chimed in, weaving her web of deception. “Soo,” she said, addressing Kai’s mom, “Sia is full of talent. My son-in-law understands my daughter perfectly.” I glanced at my mom, our secret pact unspoken. She’d do anything for my happiness.

Kai's mom pressed into my palm, insistent. “You’re like a daughter to me, Sia,” she murmured. There was a diamond necklace, sparking. The weight of the gems seemed to carry more than mere carats—it held expectations, obligations, and a future I hadn’t asked for.

Dinner ended, leaving me and Kai in an awkward limbo. Our parents chatted, blissfully unaware of the tension between us. I signaled my sister Aera, desperate for an ally, but she remained aloof. Perhaps she sensed what I did: that this alliance was a fragile construct, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

In the parking lot, Kai finally spoke “My mom troubled you today. If she’d informed me earlier, I would’ve canceled this meeting. Can I make it up to you? Pay you money, perhaps?”

Money. The universal currency for debts and obligations. I stared at him, torn between irritation and curiosity. Did he think money could erase the awkwardness, the forced smiles, the unspoken truths?

As we stood there, our audience—our families—watched. Expectant eyes, waiting for a hug, a sign of impending union. But Kai and I remained silent. Why should I call his name? He hadn’t bothered with mine.

I waved halfheartedly. “Let’s meet at our wedding. Bye,” I said, and we parted ways. Kai walked off, his steps measured, as if he carried the weight of the world. And I? I clutched the diamond necklace, its facets catching the moonlight, wondering if it held secrets of its own.

Perhaps, in this strange dance of practicality and pretense, we were both lost souls. And maybe—just maybe—our silence spoke louder than any words ever could.