My name is Sara, and I'm twenty-one years old from Atlanta, Georgia.
I was 18 years old when I married this handsome and caring South Indian guy named Aman. He was twenty years old and moved to America from Mumbai to work in his family's business. He would always stare at me when I came to his family's store and would smile and act shy when I came in to buy snacks or gas.
The first day I saw Aman at the store, I thought he was adorable. He touched my hands softly as he gave me a grocery bag for all of my junk food. He ended this visit by saying, "I hope you have a wonderful day...a really, really, really, wonderful day". I smiled like an idiot and walked away. Once I got back in my car, I could see him still staring through the store window, smiling as I put gas in the car.
This encounter happened several more times that month until I finally asked him, "Hey!! Are you going to ask me for my number, or are you just gonna stare at me and smile every day?" He was blushing so hard I thought his cheeks would be permanently red. He finally gave me a paper bag and a pen from behind the store glass and said, "I was afraid to ask you, I was hoping you had no boyfriend".
We both were smiling, and this simple leap of faith landed us in a happy and healthy marriage a year later. We kept our marriage a secret from our families and told them that we had gotten married on our 2nd anniversary. We had time to be together, travel, and learn about our cultures, all without any judgment. We both agreed that it was the best decision we've ever made.
We have been married almost three years now, and we've met each other's families, bonded well with them, and created our own narrative so that our interracial relationship can prosper.