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Dragon-I restaurant, Central, Hong Kong

eel and I had come for dim sum, the traditional Chinese dumplings, at the posh Dragon-I, a
modern Chinese restaurant near our office. I struggled with my chopsticks as I picked up a
steamed spinach dumpling.
‘So yeah, one year. That’s all mom gave me,’ I said. I finished recounting my India Gate
conversation.
Neel lifted a peanut dumpling with his chopsticks easily.
‘So you are getting married?’ Neel said.
I looked at him and thought a little before I spoke again. ‘I am just tired of my mother’s
relentless pursuit. I have to listen to her at some point.’
‘What about us, what we have?’ Neel took a sip of Chinese tea.
‘Neel, what about my life? Do you care?’ I said, my voice firm. We locked eyes.
‘Of course, I care. But isn’t us important?’ he said in a reasonable voice.
‘For there to be an us, there has to be a future. Us has no future, right?’ I said.
‘I don’t know. We haven’t discussed anything,’ Neel said, looking taken aback by how serious
the lunch conversation had turned.
‘And whose fault is that?’ I said.
Of course, it is your fault, Neel, is what I wanted to say.
‘The topic never came up, I guess,’ he said.
I didn’t respond. I just stared at him. I put my chopsticks down.
‘What?’ he said, figuring out that something was very wrong.
‘What topic, Neel?’ I said.
‘Us,’ he said. ‘Us and our future.’
‘Us is useless,’ I said.
‘Us is special,’ Neel said.
‘Well, all this us has done is have an affair for the last year. This us pretends to be colleagues
in the office. Whereas in reality this us sleeps with each other during business trips and, now, even at
my place.’
‘Can you keep your voice down, please?’ Neel whispered.
It only pissed me off.
‘See. Even here, even at Dragon-I, we are colleagues. I can’t say anything that will give us