Dolly's expression, a complex tapestry of mild shock, underlying anxiety, and a flicker of happiness, softened as she spoke in a hushed tone. “One day my Aunt will make me marry someone. The only request I have is to continue with my studies.”

I nodded, trying to maintain a serene demeanor. “Your academic pursuits, like preparing for G.A.T.E., are commendable. I have no qualms there. It's the age difference, and the notion that this marriage is more of a mandate from your Aunt, that concerns me.”

She offered a measured reply, her politeness veiling an unspoken concern. “I have no issues with the age gap, but if you have a girlfriend, you can tell me. I understand.”

Cutting her off gently, I clarified, “There’s no one else. Truth be told, I'm skeptical about marriage. Yet, I've promised to honor my mother's choice. So, this arrangement doesn't bother me.”

Dolly’s eyes briefly revealed a glimpse of her inner turmoil. “So, we're in this because of familial expectations? Honestly, my focus is on my studies. I dream of becoming a leading ethical hacker.”

I responded with calm assurance, “It seems we don’t have issues with each other. Let's finish our breakfast and then go home.”

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Our conversation paused as a young man in his twenties, with tan skin and jet-black hair, approached. Recognizing Dolly, he tapped her shoulder, prompting a nervous glance from her. “What are you doing here, Satish?”

His friendly demeanor didn't completely mask a hint of curiosity. “That's the question I should be asking. I've called you a thousand times to come here, but you never did. And now, you're here with someone. Who is this person you haven't introduced?”

Dolly’s smile was shy but genuine. “He is my husband, well, my future husband. Ashwin Sir.”

Satish extended a firm handshake, tinged with surprise. “Hello, Sir. I am Satish, Dolly's classmate. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, a vague sense of familiarity nagging at me. I offered him a seat, but he declined, glancing towards his friends. “Maybe next time, Sir. My friends are over there. Bye, Dolly.”

We resumed our breakfast in contemplative silence. Later, as we drove home, I broached a sensitive topic. “Dolly, I want to ask one more thing, and please don’t take me wrong. Did anything else happen the night you got drunk? If anything happens, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. You understand what I am trying to say?”

Her gaze was quizzical, almost amused. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take advantage of you.”

Her response left me unsettled, a mix of relief and an unexpected twinge of disappointment.