"But I can't miss Riya's birthday party, Mom!" I protested. My dad, mom, and I were sitting in the living area of my house while my siblings took my dog out for a walk. It was the month of May, and Riya's birthday was in two days. Riya and I decided to call Amir to her birthday event so that he could become a part of the celebration and we(Amir and I) could spend some solo quality time post-party.

"Who is this Riya, and how did you get so close to her?" asked my mom, her eyes glowering a little, but she tried to keep the tone of her voice even throughout,

"Do you not want me to have friends, ma?" I said, staring at Mom and Dad simultaneously.

"Let her go," said my dad. Out of both my parents, my father had a softer side for me in his heart- after all, it is said that the eldest daughters are always the father's favorite.

My mother pulled back the frown from her face but did not utter another word. I smiled at my dad, pushed myself out of the couch, and started to walk toward my room which was on the second floor of my house.

Walking into my room- I picked up my phone instead of a book- rather contrary to my behavior. I had sixty-four notifications from Riya and seven texts from Amir. Even when I had all those interactions to keep me occupied, a significant part of me wanted to speak with Kiara and discuss the Amir situation before I met him in person. I switched from WhatsApp to Google and checked the time in Hong Kong- it was 3 am there- so instead of calling her, I dropped her a text.

"Hey, How is it out there?" I typed. Whenever Kiara was free, she would reply. It feels a little strange to not talk to your best friend for days. Amir is a prominent change in my life- and my closest mate does not even know his name. There was no point in waiting for her text post-midnight in Hong Kong- so I opened Riya's chat. Her messages elevated from sixty-four to seventy-six. Out of all the notifications she sent, fifty were the images of hopeful dresses for her birthday party.

"Which one should I wear?" she asked,

"??!"

"Sahaana?"

"Saha? Where are you?" sometimes it was hard for people to call me by my full name, so they used the short form instead,

"I swear if you don't reply now, I will come to your place," I looked outside my window to check if she was actually there. She wasn't.

"Just kidding, can't," she continued. There were a bunch more messages in which she basically demanded my presence on the screen when she needed me. I skimmed through all the pictures Riya sent and settled on the blue straight dress that would compliment her body structure. She was slightly healthy for her age- hence, a bulgy or a body-tight dress wouldn't suit her the best.

"This," I said, along with three heart emojis,

"Thanks for replying after fifty years," she said, the three dots dancing below her most recent text, "But Neil already chose a dress for me," she completed. She sent me an image of the attire that Neil chose for her. It was not a usual dress- it was an ethnic Indian tunic which was crimson red, under which there was a long skirt with a little faded touch and was brick red in color- it had a Chikankari work on it with white. Chikankari is a style of design that is unique to the northern part of India, specifically Lucknow.

I did not connect with the essence of the dress as such; and I was not sure if Riya wanted to wear ethnic at all because out of the fifty images she sent, only two belonged to the traditional Indian category. I thought to myself- when one enters a relationship, does one's choice exist anymore? or, do we start to live each other's lives?

"How is it?" my chain of thoughts was broken by the sound of a fresh notification on my phone, "And I was thinking of keeping the theme as ethnic," she concluded,

"The dress is pretty," I lied. I cannot help being a people-pleaser occasionally, "Does that mean I have to wear a kurta (Indian tunic) as well?!" I exclaimed,

"Yes, of course!" she said. I did not have as many Indian clothes as I did dresses, formals, jumpsuits, etc, but if she wanted me to dress traditionally, maybe I would open the forbidden corner of my closet.

"Please get one of my ethnic dresses washed and ironed," I texted my mom. Even when we lived in the same house, sometimes it was too tiring for me to walk up and down the staircase to convey a small message, and after all, what was technology invented for?

"Why?" my mom replied within seconds,

"To wear at Riya's party," I said,

"Riya seems to be well cultured," said my mother. I smiled a little at how funny the text sounded.

"Of course she is," I typed back. While I was waiting for my mom to text heretofore, another message from Riya dropped in,

"And, is Amir coming?" she asked. I totally forgot that Amir was coming to attend the event while sorting out Riya's dress. I did not reply to Riya and opened Amir's chat immediately. I had eight unseen messages from him,

"Hey," he said at 2:45, "Back from school?" he asked at the same time,

"How was your day today?" he asked fifteen minutes later. He was trying to get my attention, but I could not reply to any of his messages as I was chatting with my parents,

"I actually wanted to clear something out..." he said,

"About meeting..." he continued,

"Don't get me wrong, but the first time I meet you, I don't want it to be in front of your friends," he said,

"Is it possible.." there was a long pause,

"Is it possible for me to meet you after the party ends?" he asked finally.

Honestly, I did not have any problem with meeting him after the party- just that I wanted Riya to meet him and give her honest opinion on Amir. I did not directly reply to his text, instead, I switched the chat to that of Riya and explained to her the entire situation.

"To be frank, I get his point," she said, "If I were to meet Neil for the first time and it was with his friends, I would be very conscious," She had a point.

"Okay, sounds perfect," I replied to Amir. Riya's consent was all I needed- after all, she had the most extensive experience of dealing with a guy out of everyone I knew.