Page 82 of The Love Match

I still cock my head. “What’s going on?”

“The bride-zolad and her fiancé are coming tomorrow to see what we’ve prepared so far,” Amma replies. “Thanks to her unexpected material change, I’m far from ready.”

Resisting the urge to give her awful client an earful, I say, “Can I help?”

The two of them blink up at me at last, wearing identical amused expressions, but it’s Amma who says, “Nonsense. You can’t possibly do much now that we’re in the final stretch. It will only slow me down if I have to worry about you stabbing yourself while trying to thread a needle.”

“Why don’t you go check on your siblings?” Nanu adds. “Or your friends?”

That’s a bit harsh. I’m great at pouring tea, which requires stellar hand-eye coordination if you don’t want to spill it on the table or a customer’s lap—ask me how I know.

They quickly return the topic to the bride-zolad’s visit and what foods to serve her. I make my way to the kitchen. Arif and Resna are at the table, poring over stapled pages of coloring and alphabet worksheets, nubs of crayons scattered around them.

My brother taps a page. “Your uppercaseQis missing a line.”

“Not a line,” pouts my baby sister. “Asquiggle.”

Arif rolls his eyes. “If you know the squiggle is missing, add it.”

Hiding my smile behind the rim of the cup of tea I pour myself from the kettle Nanu’s left on the stove, I realize that I’d crave this if I ever left. Sure, my family can be messy, but they’remymess.

Back in my bedroom after finishing breakfast, I plop onto my creaky chair. It rolls for a second. I’ve been trying to write,so my laptop is open next to my notebook. When I pass my fingertips over the faded keys, the screen blinks on and my muscles go rigid.

Gmail displays one new message.

Unlike the spam I’ve been getting from colleges, financial aid scammers, and scholarship websites for the last six months, this one comes from a familiar sender—Professor Liu—with the subjectManuscript Feedback.

Oh my God!

Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no, nostarts running through my head on a loop, while I try to quell the tremor in my hands and lungs.

Aside from my friends, a handful of encouraging teachers, and fangirling internet strangers, very few people have read my writing. In most cases, it’s been excerpts, essays, or fanfics, whereas this book is the mostmething I’ve ever written.

I was so excited to send it to Professor Liu, but I’ve been dreading that decision since, obsessively checking my email and feeling a blend of relief and disappointment every time she didn’t write back. If she tells me my book is trash, I don’t know if I can find the will to keep dreaming after getting so many signs to give it all up.

Somehow, I find my phone in my grasp, my fingers moving with a mind of their own.I shared some of my writing with a professor at the community college and she finally responded.

That’s great,comes Harun’s instant reply.Isn’t it? What did she say?

I haven’t opened it yet…. What if she hated it?

Then she’d be a shitty professor,he texts, matter-of-fact as ever.

I choke out a watery laugh.You’re ridiculous.

I’m not. I just know you’re a good writer.

Although I can’t hear him, the conviction in his words rings clear. But did he actually track down some of my pieces? It wouldn’t be particularly challenging. My school published some poetry, essays, and short stories in their online newsletter, while other snapshots of my work are available if you scroll for a while through my Instagram page.

But he actuallylikesthem?

My silly heart flutters in my chest. I swallow the giddy feeling and defend Professor Liu.She probably won’t tell me outright if it’s godawful, anyway. She’ll give constructive criticism.

It’s kind of scary that I’ve bared my soul for someone else to measure its worth, but that’s what’s supposed to happen in creative writing classes. It can’t be that much worse than the trolls on the internet who flamed me for writing about brown girls, could it?

Cool. Then you’ll fix your book and impress her.

I glare half-heartedly at my phone.You are way too sure of my abilities.

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