The morning light finally graces the Arab skies of Oman, or so I think before I look at the clock and realise it's the 11 o'clock.

I rub my palm against my forehead, slightly shocked that I slept so late.
I was the type to wake a 7 no matter what, guess staying up late in the lounge must have made me quite tired.

Although, I must say it was fun.
Everyone had gathered, from elders to kids, with the conversation flowing easily and drinks going around in turns.

We only retired to our beds when it was hard to keep our eyes open any longer.

I walk out of my room in the suite and find my parents gathered around the breakfast table.
My dad looks up at the sound of my feet brushing against the floor.

"If you're an impostor trying to impersonate my daughter, you're doing a horrible job so far. Everyone knows my Nilanjona wakes up at the crack of dawn." Dad teases.

"Nope, still me." I smile, grabbing one of the crossaints they'd probably ordered via the reception.

The buttery pastry filled with white chocolate cream melts in my mouth, proving it's the quality stuff, not the fake rubbinsh you find in England.

"The best man's brother, I forgot the boy's name, came looking for you." My mum says.

"Oh. And?" I say.

"He wanted to talk about the party you're throwing. I hope you kids are not planning anything stupid."

"Don't worry mum, we're keeping it simple." I reassure her.

"Why didn't you tell us you went to school with him?" My dad asks. "I found out from Saba."

There's no accusation or suspicion in his voice, but it still makes me gulp.
Not that my parents would ever make a link to Mikhail and me.

"There was nothing to tell." I shrug.