At Dinner we all sat down on the floor which customary here. "Siddhu," I said tugging on his pants which were given by my uncles. One of them gave him this outfit so he can blend in well.

"Beht ja!" I added, narrowing my eyes at him. When he finally placed his expensive butt on the floor I let out a sigh knowing if my Uncles found out what kind of man he is he will get twice the work. On the field. And the heat isn't too friendly.

"Yeh.. study Kaise hai?" Uncle Raichand asks as we all eat.

I think he didn't get the memo because Siddharth is looking around for a fork or spoon. He's too modern. He must have grown up like that. Do I need to show him?

I show Siddhu after nudging him to mimic my movements and he does, slowly and eats. Nani kept adding to his plate and I eyed it. In all honesty, she did that when I was 12 and had run here after a fight with father about religion.

"Oy Siddharth, tu field work karta or.... Modern boys jaise shy hua?" Uncle Raichand asks again, to see if he will take the bait.

The sound of a drama being played and a complaint comes from the left of me. It's Aunt Kirti's fave hobby ever since finding out internet exists. Could have been my fault.

"Oy! Kirti, phone neeche rakh," Nani says. Siddhu watches them for a minute before he finally answers my uncle.

Uncle Gurpeet is in his uniform from the army. He hasn't put it away even after getting dismissed. Those eyes have seen war too many times. He watches Siddhu carefully and eats.

"Padayi theek thi. Law background hai... par field work bhi seekh raha hoon. Kaam karna aata hai," he said, mid-chew.

Calm. Or more like trying to keep himself from tipping over.

When we were all done with eating, he wanted to talk with me alone. The sun had dipped low anyway, and everyone headed to bed. I sat on the edge of the bed thinking of how or what to post on reels since Tik Tok has been banned.

"Annie, your family.... Oof. They are something. The people I've dealt with aren't as... scary," he says, entering the room wiping his sweat.

"And you've dealt with scarier people?" I ask back, pulling my legs up over the bed and raising them a little, my anklet shining in the lighting. He looks at me and then my anklet, and gulps.

"Careful Bhaiya, or you might get caught with leg between yours."

Why have I called him Bhaiya? Only God knows. I don't like him. We are only pretending. Hopefully Auntie Kirti isn't out there listening in. To see if we've gotten intimate.

"Don't call me that," he breathed out walking up to the bed and sliding down onto it.

"Why not? We are pretending or Aap boolgayi?"

I pulled my legs even closer to me, eyes locked on him.

"Pretending doesn't need that imagination, Annie," he says, leaning in. My breath hitched at the closeness of his breath. He's inches away from claiming my lips.

Nani's voice came from other side—loud and clear. So Kirti wasn't asleep? "Quick, wrap your arms around me and pull me close," I whisper.

He only raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Jalti."

The moment they burst through the door, he pulled me in close and whispered in my ear. "Are they gone?"

"Nahi, Siddhu." I wrapped my arms around him just for good measure. Nani took one look and was about to call rabba and pass out.

"Yeh Kya hai, puthur?" Nani asks, tracing how my hands and his hands are tangled together over our bodies.

"This is what couples do," I say. Auntie Kirti is about slip out. "Kirti yeh.... Modern intimacy!"

"Stop squeezing so tight, Siddhu," I whispered in his ear.

"I'm trying not to die," he says, loosening his group a bit.

"Well, try not to die faster," I whisper back. When we finally pull apart, Auntie played with the edge of her shawl.

We smiled at them and looked at each other. After about a minute of convincing them to go sleep, I push him off the bed.

"Aap floor me soojah. I'll be on the bed. Goodnight my future husband!" I say and put my head on the pillow.

Sleep came easy since I've been here many times when I was little. More like in my teen years.

I got up early next morning cause I wanted to see a friend of mine. He did tell me when we were together that he would turn sikh by pressure from family. He's a very sweet friend of mine.

I waited by the fields, which are wider than I remember. Where is he? I crane my neck and gaze over the wheat fields like my life depends on it.

Just as I was about to turn and walk away he called. "Annie! Yeh kyu aaya?"

"Kiran!" I shout whipping back around. We laughed. We hugged.

"It's been a long time. Mein tune miss hua," he said pulling away.

"Yeah it's been long. Mein criminal justice me paada hai but something hitched that plan halfway," I reply, eyes cast onto the fields again.

"Something or someone hitched your plan," he asked and we walked through the fields having no idea that he was following us.

"It's actually someone famous. Like so famous... everyone dar lagta hai," I reply, softly.

"Do I know him?"

He stopped and turned to me, his turban—caught the morning light and bounced slightly off course. "Maybe you know him. Yeh internet famous hai."

Then I don't say anything else, looking straight into his eyes. I would only see him as a Bhaiya but to him it's not the same. He's seen me as much more than a little sister.

"Yeh nam hai... Singh.... Siddharth Singh," I say after 10 minutes of silence. "What do you say? Is he husband material?"

I grab his cheeks and squish it like I used to. He smiled but it was half-hearted. "Kya hua, Kiran?"

"What makes you think a city boy won't leave after using you?" He spit back, grabbing my hands and putting them near his heart.

"He won't. It's just..."

I stop because he's right. Or could be. Siddharth sees this as a challenge. He'll leave after marrying me. And I've got pressure from two sides.

One - If I marry a Sikh, that will make my mom's family happy.

Two - Marry a Christian and make dad happy.