The proposal that never happened

Arman's POV

My fingers played with the velvet box in my pocket. My chest was tight with nervousness, something I would usually never admit.

I had spent more of my life in front of the camera than behind it. Being an actor was cool, but having both parents as Bollywood hotshots was hectic. My family lived for the camera.

“I have a reservation.” I cleared my throat as I addressed the waiter. I didn’t need to, because they would have led me in anyway, but I said it all the same.

The man nodded but spoke in a low voice, “I know this is against our policy, but I was wondering if…” He trailed off, looking around to see if there was anyone to tell on him.

“Shhh,” I hushed him. Then I moved close enough to stuff my handkerchief into his pocket. “My initials are embroidered on it. Mind you, you never asked, so you did nothing against policy”.

The man beamed like he had won the lottery. “Thank you so much,” he muttered.

I nodded politely. “Now, my reservation,” I reminded him. His tag said his name was Moses.

Moses led me to a private dining room; it had a table for two, red curtains, and a bouquet of roses in the middle of the table.

“Perfect,” I hummed as I settled in. All the while, my left hand was yet to let go of the box. I took a deep breath when I was alone to ease out the nervousness.

I was going to propose to my girlfriend, Molly Hills. We had been together for two years, but my relationship was the one part of my life I tried my best to keep away from the public. It was a lot of work, but I was determined to have at least that little privacy.

When my phone rang and I saw that it was Bridget, my manager, I was tempted not to pick up. But knowing I would not hear the end of her scolding, I did.

“Hey, woman,” I greeted. Bridget and I had an unusual relationship; she was an older woman with a small frame, often serious, but sometimes sweet. She had been my manager for years, so it was normal that I had rubbed off on her already.

“Say Yes!” she urged.

I rolled my eyes. “No. Definitely no.” I shook my head, but I was curious; Bridget sounded really excited.

“Mrs. Eloise’s drama is ready. I got news from her writing team. She’s looking for actors for every character. She wants perfect people, and I don’t think there’s anyone better than you for the male lead,” Bridget explained. “I am certain we’ll get it, but I still think we should position ourselves strategically. I’m going to need you at the office tomorrow evening”.

“I’m not interested. I told you, no dramas this year”. If today went well, I would have a wedding to prepare for.

“Why?” Bridget asked, irritation evident in her voice. Bridget did not like when things did not go her way, but she also knew how stubborn I could be. “Mrs. Eloise personally releases one drama every four years, and every single one has been a banger. Even your dad was cast in one of her dramas. Are you going to miss this opportunity for a woman who will not show up?” she hissed.

My fingers left the box. “What do you mean?” My throat was suddenly tight.

Bridget gave an exasperated breath. “You think I don’t know? How did you think you could hide something so important from me? You’re going to ask Molly to marry you; I can even describe that box in your left pocket and the ring inside of it. Don’t try me, Arman. I want to see you here tomorrow evening”.

Bridget had the last word today, and she hung up as soon as she was done talking. Her words echoed in my head even after the call ended: “Are you going to miss this opportunity for a woman that will not show up?”.

Bridget was probably trying to make me change my mind about not working on any drama. She was the type of woman who would go to any lengths to get whatever she wanted. Other managers called her the Piranha, saying she fed on flesh, but it had been a while since anyone saw that side of her.

I lifted my phone and dialed Molly. Her number was unreachable. I went through our recent chats again; I had told her to meet me at the restaurant and she had agreed. Even if something had happened, I thought she would tell me and not leave me waiting just like that.

I pushed Bridget’s words further from my mind and kept dialing. Molly was a model for designer dresses, and I knew for sure that she was not working on anything at the moment; she had just finished a very stressful project that had kept her out of the country for weeks. This was our meet-up and celebration dinner.

I heard a female voice outside and thought it was her, but I heard the voice again and knew it wasn’t. Bridget’s words came back, along with the conviction with which she said them.

Three hours dragged on while I waited patiently. Molly did not show up. Bridget had to know something.