Marriage in my family was never just about two people coming together. It was a tapestry woven from generations of history, tradition, and unspoken rules. Growing up, I was surrounded by stories — tales of arranged marriages that blossomed into lifelong partnerships, stories of sacrifices made for family honor, and the sometimes quiet tension between modern dreams and ancestral expectations.
My parents often spoke of marriage as a sacred duty, a bridge that connected not only two individuals but entire families. To them, marriage was a bond of respect, loyalty, and continuity. It was about more than love — it was about belonging.
From a young age, I learned that a woman's role in marriage was to support, to nurture, and to uphold family values. My mother told me stories of her own arranged marriage, a union that had begun with little fanfare but had grown into a partnership built on patience and mutual respect. She spoke of the challenges — the adjustments, the silences, the compromises — but also of the strength that came from walking together through life's uncertainties.
At family gatherings, I watched my relatives exchange knowing glances as they discussed suitable matches, whispering about family backgrounds, education, and compatibility. It was clear that love, while desired, was only one part of a much larger equation.
My father, a man of quiet conviction, often reminded me that marriage was not just a personal choice but a family commitment. "We choose for you because we see what you might miss," he said once, his eyes steady. "It's about ensuring your happiness in ways you may not yet understand."
But even as I absorbed these lessons, I felt a flicker of resistance. In my heart, I wondered if I could find a marriage that honored my family's values but also allowed me to be myself — to dream, to grow, to choose.
School friends talked of dating, of falling in love over time, of the freedom to explore who they wanted to be with. Their stories felt like a world apart from the one I inhabited. I envied their choices, their agency, but I also knew that my path would be different.
Yet, despite the weight of tradition, my family's view on marriage was not rigid. There was an unspoken understanding that love could grow in unexpected ways, that marriage was a journey, not just a destination. They hoped that the arrangement they would help craft for me would be one where respect and affection would bloom with time.
This complex web of expectation and hope shaped me — the girl who wanted to honor her roots but also carve out her own story. And as the day approached when I would meet Ayaan, the reality of those family views pressed heavily on my mind.
I was stepping into a role that was as much about my family's dreams as it was about my own. And I wasn't sure yet what that meant for my heart.