One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘But I hate that shirt. How could he wear it?’ I laughed.
‘He is a doctor. We are shortlisting him. You can choose his clothes after marriage,’ mom said.
We finished at 4 in the afternoon, with a shortlist of ten potential grooms to be contacted
further.
‘I’m tired. You want to step out for a coffee?’ I said.
‘Sure,’ she said.
We walked to a Pret a Manger café near Earl’s Court tube station. My mother held my hand.
‘We have done something together after a long time,’ she said.
‘Yeah, bonding over shortlisted grooms,’ I said and laughed.
‘You wait and see. I will find a prince for you,’ she said.