A couple of nights ago — when I just got here, I heard how they all bombarded Gemma with one exact type of question, marriages. And even when I wasn’t in the room with them, I absolutely knew how he’d react — just because I know him so well. So well that I knew word by word.
Marriage is one of those inevitable topics that eventually come up when we graduate from college or approach the age of 25. It wasn’t as frequent as during our early 20s, but things changed the moment we passed the midpoint of our twenties.
Casual conversations with our friends about weekend plans and career goals were replaced by serious discussions about settling down and long-term commitments. Subtle hints were dropped at family gatherings, and friends started sharing their engagement stories or dreams. The pressure became intense as we began to feel the weight of expectations — not just from those around us but also from ourselves.
“We wanted to take it slow,” he said, casually. But I knew deep down that he didn’t want that.
The room remained silent for a while until Chris and Caroline assured everyone that Gemma knew what he was doing. I was about to join everyone in the dining room, but this was just not something I wanted to handle right now. So, I decided to stay at the back of the room until they stopped talking about the subjects I avoided the most.
“You guys pestered him about the same damn thing for years like you were the ones paying for the wedding,” Chris said, rescuing Gemma with that answer. The one asking was his own mom, known to be the nosiest person in the Lou family.
“They’re both at their peak. I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Chris added, taking a seat next to his soon-to-be wife.
My eyes stayed closed for a moment as I leaned against the thick white wall of the room. We both always wanted to take this relationship to the next stage, but aren’t those the thoughts everyone has when they are at their happiest? And as time went on, my perspective shifted. I began seeing things differently, wanting to explore everything and understand who I was outside of our relationship.
I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking some comfort in the midst of my confusion.
I felt there were things I would love to do more for myself and not for someone else. Unfortunately, right now, I don’t even know what I want. I was confused about everything. It just seemed like I was losing a part of myself.
I was walking to the dining room as soon as they found another topic to discuss. Everyone stared at me briefly, their eyes flickering with concern and guilt, afraid that I might have heard what they just said. I forced a smile, trying to ease the tension that seemed to hang like a dense fog.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I said, sliding into an empty seat next to Caroline instead of Gemma — we haven’t talked, and he sort of avoided me since the time I stepped foot in Jumeirah.
“No worries, we were just catching up,” Caroline replied, her voice a bit too bright and forced. She reached out and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, her eyes conveying a silent apology because of the words that she spat out soon-to-be mother-in-law.
My appetite was nowhere to be found, and as much as I tried to focus on what they were saying, my mind kept drifting back to when they were shooting Gemma with those questions. Marriages.
As I picked at my food, Gemma leaned over from his seat across the table, his warm gaze fixed on me. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern despite our barely having any interaction.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My emotions were too raw. The weight of his gaze on me was comforting yet overwhelming. I wanted to reassure him and tell him everything would be fine, but I couldn’t find the words.
The evening continued, with laughter and stories filling the space around us. I did my best to engage in the conversations, but my heart wasn’t in it. Every now and then, I caught Gemma glancing at me, his eyes full of questions and worry. I wished I could give him the answers he sought, but how could I when I didn’t have them myself?
Eventually, the dinner started to wind down. People drifted away from the table, heading outside to enjoy the cool night air or catch up in smaller groups. I excused myself and slipped out onto the terrace, needing a moment alone to collect my thoughts.
The view was breathtaking. The moon cast a silver path across the ocean, and the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs was a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. I leaned against the railing, closing my eyes and letting the night wash over me. The air was cool and fresh, a welcome contrast to the heat and tension inside.
“Mind if I join you?” Gemma’s voice broke through, and I turned to see him standing a few steps behind me.
“Of course not,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
He stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth in the cool night. We stood in silence for a while, watching the waves and distant stars.
“Talk to me,” he finally said, his voice gentle but insistent. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t answer — it felt like my mind, or everything inside me had frozen. The words were there, but they refused to form. So I stayed silent, until someone else called Gemma from inside.
He glanced back toward the dining room, then turned to me, “I have to go back.” He said softly before heading back inside.
