Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(95)

Was he too late?

“Prem?” his producer said from the other side of his dressing room door. “You have a full audience today. You ready?”

“Yeah, coming.”

He straightened his jacket, glanced in the mirror to smooth his hair, and went to do his last Dr. Dil Show. The set was decorated with marigolds and twinkle lights like an Indian wedding. Sometimes Prem forgot that his channel was on a South Asian TV network, and they would do things like hang garlands and lights on the stage backdrop.

His producer gave him the one-minute warning, and he positioned himself at stage left, mentally running through his notes.

“I hope you’re watching, Rina,” he murmured.

The lights went up, his producer called his name, and he stepped out into the spotlight. He straightened his cuff link and took a deep breath.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to The Dr. Dil Show!”

There were cheers, and clapping, and most importantly, there were a lot of people. The entire studio seemed to be so packed that Prem was barely able to make out individual faces in the crowd. And they were all here to see the series finale. Or watch him eat his words.

He started with his tagline. Holistic health of the heart, my ass, he thought.

“Now before we begin, I wanted to start with some bittersweet news. I have been doing The Dr. Dil Show for a few years now, and it has been absolutely incredible. I started it after the death of my fiancée as a way to raise awareness—and frankly, attention—from investors for a community health center I wanted to build right here in Jersey City. Well, that dream is finally coming to fruition. Thanks to a few amazing investors, we have secured a location downtown that will be dedicated to supporting the South Asian immigrant populations in the tristate area.”

The crowd cheered and clapped appropriately.

“Unfortunately, that also means that today is my last show.”

Pin-drop silence.

“Going forward, I will be focusing on patients and building my community health practice. I appreciate all of you who have followed along over the years, and who have written to the show about parents, family members, and your own health. It makes every moment I’m here on the stage worthwhile.”

The studio audience cheered. This time the noise was a roar, and as the sound washed over him, Prem looked up and smiled.

Thanks, Gori.

When the clapping slowed, Prem continued. “As my final show, I wanted it to be special, but I didn’t know how much. I have my boss, the chief of the Jersey City Cardiology Center, here to talk about how you can finish the year taking care of your most important body part. I have Swami Talish here to discuss how we can stay focused in the present through meditation.”

He looked out at all the expectant faces, all the aunties at the edge of their seat so invested in his love life, as if the key to his happiness was a key to their joy, too.

“But now, an update on my personal life.”

The sound guys rolled the music, the lights flashed, and the audience laughed.

“Four months ago, Kareena Mann, a successful attorney and member of the South Asian community here in New Jersey, came on my show and, quite frankly, put me in my place. She, like so many South Asian women, was faced with a daily reminder of her single status. Although we’ve progressed as a community, there are still so many families that set a ridiculous level of importance on single women getting married and starting a family.”

He pressed a hand to his heart.

“I was part of that problem. By invalidating the feelings of women in our society, by removing the emotional connection aspect from matchmaking as a consideration, I was hurting rather than helping people like Kareena.”

He took a deep breath. “We began spending time together, and four months later, I asked her to marry me. Kareena taught me that all the science, the studies, the facts about heart health are only part of the story. Relationships and South Asian marriages are so much more complicated. The communication aspect, the trust and honesty that couples need to share with each other. That’s all true, but that’s not all. And that’s when I realized that I love her. And love may be terrible for heart health sometimes, but the absence of it can be just as bad.”

The audience gasped. An aunty in the front row whispered, “Ae kii kenda eh?” What did he say?

Prem’s palms began sweating.

“I can’t believe that after all these months, you still can’t just come out and say that you’re wrong and I was right,” a voice said.

People gasped in the audience, and Prem whirled to see Kareena step out from behind the stage backdrop. She looked . . . perfect. She wore her lucky black sweater vest with a puffy capped sleeve shirt underneath. Her hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves. He immediately focused in on her shoes, though. Her heels were a vibrant magenta with peonies painted along the slides. And she was wearing his favorite payal.

“Why is it always about trying to make a point, Dr. Dil?” Kareena said. The corner of her mouth twitched.

At the signal from his producer, Prem cleared his throat and motioned for Kareena to join him at center stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, Kareena Mann.”

When the audience clapped and cheered, he leaned in to whisper, “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to tell you that . . . I, ah . . .”

“She loves you!” The crowd yelled in unison.