A Choice by Meher Joshi

It was seven in the evening when they met at the restaurant. Entering, she knew he was going to ask her to marry him. The feeling of surety reverberated through her bones. She loved him, and the last eight months of her life with him had been the most exciting so far.

She found him sitting at a table near the end of the restaurant, far from the one by the window, which he knew was her favourite. Perhaps he had forgotten. She sat down opposite him, and they ate their meal mostly in silence, which, although not rare for the two, was not particularly appreciated by her on that specific occasion. After dessert he looked at her, and smiled that charming, doting smile that she had first fallen for.

“I think you know why we’re here,” he said. She smiled back at him, “Do I?” Of course she knew. He reached into his coat pocket, and she could not contain her excitement. Outside, the sky grew dark and foreboding, and one could see the black sky slowly swallowing up the pinkish-purple and the purple sky swallowing up the fading orange glow.

He took out a small box, the kind that quite literally carry the promise of love forever. He kept it on the table, but he left it unopened and said nothing. Her smile grew weaker. Then, he bent down and from under the table, lifted a briefcase, the kind that in movies contain hundreds of thousands of dollars, and placed it alongside the little box. Her smile faded.

“What are you doing? What is that?” She was baffled.

“My love,” he said, as he opened carefully the box and the briefcase, revealing, as anticipated, a most exquisite diamond ring and, as suspected, hundreds of dollar notes. “You do, in fact, know why we are here. You’re running from your family, with your sister. It’s why you have been with me this whole time, isn’t it?” She opened her mouth to interrupt him, though she did not know what she was even going to say.