“Do I have to go?” I asked Richard again hoping for a different answer. I buried myself further down into our comfy couch, romance novel in one hand, cup of hot chai in another.

He shot me a pleading look while buttoning his navy blue dress shirt. “I can’t go by myself to my boss’ daughter’s wedding.”

I took another sip of my hot drink, placed the oversized mug on the coffee table and walked toward him.

“Why don’t we both stay?” I smiled. “Your boss invited so many people. She won’t even notice.”

“Yahaira, please. You need to get ready or we’re going to be late.” He was firm.

“Fine,” I said. “But don’t get mad at me. You knew I was an introvert before you swiped on me. It was literally my profile name: Introvertida Pero Cute.”

“I know,” he nodded. “You remind me often. Now let’s be quick. I don’t want to be late.”

We finished getting ready in silence. The sound of the rain drumming against our living room window.

The ride to the church was also quiet. As much as I hated going out, I hated it the most when it was raining. The rain was perfect for staying in, not getting my curly hair frizzy beyond control, stepping into puddles because the church parking lot was packed and we had to park far.

It never rains in Phoenix, so the water accumulates quickly. My heels were soaked and I was cold. I just hoped the ceremony would be quick and we could head back home before sunset.

Richard knew quite a few people and kept stopping to chat.

“I’m gonna wait for you in a pew,” I said. He nodded without looking at me. Thankfully, he knew how much I hated small talk and didn’t pressure me to partake in it.

From my seat, I scanned the church. We were on the bride’s side which happened to be the blonde Scottsdale looking side. My dark Dominican ass stood out. I looked at the groom’s side and they looked more like me. At a glance, I saw saris and guessed they were Indian.

I turned my attention to the groom. My heart stopped. It was Anup, my college boyfriend—my first love. He broke up with me after four years of dating because he couldn’t bring home a non-Indian girl to his parents, yet here he was, five years later, about to marry a very non-Indian blonde. My college graduation heartbreak flooded me with emotions I had healed from. Or so I thought.

Why did I care? I found a man who adored me and who took me to meet his parents after a few months of dating. A man who didn’t care that our cultures were different. A man who fought for me. So why did seeing Anup feel painful? Why did I care? Before I could explore my downward spiral any further, Richard was by my side.