Chapter 1
2/December/2024
I am on a call with my mom after landing at Sydney Airport. It took immense effort to convince my parents to let me study abroad. This moment feels like a dream come true. I came here to prove my worth to my entire family—especially my grandfather, Dr Prem Dillon. He was the one who convinced everyone to let me go on my own and not pressure me into marriage.
Most girls my age are married, and here I am—a 23-year-old from a rural area of Punjabi India—coming to Sydney to build a life and survive independently. My family has asked a guy from my uncle’s circle to pick me up. We are not related; our families are simply mutual acquaintances. His name is Karan. He has been in Sydney for the past two years and has completed his master’s degree in Artificial Intelligence. That is all I know about him.
As I walked out of the airport, I noticed a guy about the same height as me, talking on the phone and holding a board with my name written on it—“Faristhdha”, which was a completely incorrect spelling. My name is written and pronounced Farishta. It was irritating, but I said nothing; my upbringing taught me to hold my tongue.
He looked me up and down and said, “Wow.” I ignored it, unsure whether he meant wow, you’re beautiful or wow, you’re tall.
“Farishta,” I said, initiating a handshake.
“Karan,” he replied, taking my hand.
His hand was almost the same size as mine, and his grip was firm—tight enough to reflect a dominant personality. I don’t mean to brag, but I consider myself a good judge of character.
He started walking with me toward the parking area. Honestly, Sydney is incredibly beautiful—the view outside felt breathtaking. He seemed uncomfortable with silence; it was as if quiet moments bothered him. He kept talking, mostly about himself.
He began with stories from his school life, claiming that all the popular girls had crushes on him. I wasn’t buying any of it—especially because he’s from Delhi. If you’re not Indian, let me explain: there’s a popular saying that goes, “My career is my second priority; my first is making sure he’s not from Delhi.”
He then moved on to talking about his research in cybersecurity—hacking and prevention. I didn’t understand a single word he said, but I’m a good listener, so I nodded along. After that, he mentioned attending a concert by his favourite singer. I instantly felt upset because I absolutely love that singer, and the concert happened before I arrived in Sydney.
I told him that I had watched the same singer perform up close at my university during my bachelor’s degree in India. He didn’t seem convinced, so he asked which university I attended. I told him Chandigarh University. He said he had visited it and claimed it was one of the best places in Chandigarh.
I laughed and told him that Chandigarh University is actually in Kharar, Punjab. He immediately Googled it while driving. When he realised I was right, he looked genuinely shocked.
There was a lot of traffic in Sydney. I asked him whether this was normal or just weekend traffic. He said it was normal. My stomach growled, and he noticed.
“You seem hungry—let’s go eat somewhere,” he said.
I told him I was fine and that I just needed sleep, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he asked if I liked sushi. I immediately said no. I hate sushi—it’s overrated. He looked genuinely shocked, but honestly, who cares?
He took me to a restaurant with live music, and I loved the vibe. I enjoy places like that. We had papdi, naan, and malai kofta. It wasn’t exactly lunch or dinner—just a meal somewhere in between.
After we finished eating, he took me to his apartment. It was a three-bedroom place shared by two guys. I was shocked. There was no way I could stay with two men I had just met that same day. He noticed the worry on my face and quickly said, “Your apartment is just a five-minute walk from here. We’re waiting for your roommate before you move in.”
I noticed that the apartment was in fairly good condition, even though four boys lived there. It wasn’t my idea of perfectly clean, but it was still tidy enough. I didn’t bother washing my face or freshening up because I wasn’t comfortable using the bathroom there.
He said, “You know most things about me now. Tell me about yourself.”
So I told him that I’m a quiet, shy kind of person. I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology. I’m the youngest in my family, with one elder sister who is married and settled in Adelaide. I love reading, writing, dancing, painting, and journaling. I told him that I enjoy watching sunsets and that my plan for this Sunday was to sit and watch one.
Karan laughed. I was confused and asked him what was so funny. He said, “There are no real sunsets in Sydney—except from a few islands, and they’re very far away.”
I was in disbelief, so I Googled it myself. He was right.
“Hey, but if you like sunrises, you can join me for one of my morning runs,” he offered.
I replied, “I’m not someone who wakes up early—unless I’m catching a flight.”
Just then, his phone rang. It was my future roommate, and suddenly I felt nervous. Karan picked up my bags, and we started walking. After about four minutes, we stopped outside a 2-bedroom unit.
As we entered, a girl with a warm smile welcomed me. Her name was Sami, and she was around my age. She showed us to the room. The walls were painted pink, and there was a cute single bed with plenty of wardrobe space—perfect for me.
She told me the rent was $150, which felt unbelievably cheap compared to Sydney prices. I guessed I was lucky, so I agreed immediately.
“The owner is a friend from work,” Karan added. “She’s like an elder sister to me.”
“Thank you for helping me with everything,” I told him sincerely.
He smiled and said, “You’re both having dinner with us tonight—the men are cooking today.”
I laughed and nodded yes.
