The news spread faster than a campus meme—confirmed by not just one senior but three, one of whom had screenshots from the student council group chat to prove it. The fresher's party wasn't just a hopeful rumor anymore. It was happening.
By the next day, the buzz had fully taken over the library table.
Neha arrived with her usual giant thermos and a slightly smug smile. "The venue's locked. The official invite will drop tomorrow." She said this like someone delivering insider stock tips.
Tanvi let out a dramatic gasp, nearly toppling her iced coffee. "It's real. I'm going to cry. Someone hold me."
"I'd rather not," Anaya said, flipping her notes. "Your emotional breakdowns are always sticky."
Tanvi ignored her and reached across the table anyway, squeezing Riya's arm. "Did you hear? We can finally live our main-character moment."
Riya, who had already started saving outfit reels from Instagram the night before, was unbothered. "I was born for this. Let me glow."
"You guys are acting like it's prom night in a Hollywood teen drama," Neha muttered, clearly amused.
"Exactly," Tanvi replied. "I want the aesthetic. The lights, the drama, the perfect slow-motion entrance."
Anaya raised a brow. "What next, a dance battle to settle love triangles?"
"If needed," Riya said, dead serious. "I'm not afraid to throw it down on the dance floor."
"I'll bring popcorn," Anaya offered.
Neha grinned and shook her head. "We haven't even figured out what we're wearing, and you're planning emotional arcs like this is a K-drama."
"That's the energy we deserve," Tanvi declared. "High-stakes feelings and good lighting."
Amid the chaos of imaginary drama, Anaya checked the time and casually said, "By the way, my sister's arriving today."
The group froze like they'd all misheard.
Riya blinked. "Wait. Meera? As in—The Sister?"
Anaya frowned. "Yes. Why are you saying it like she's a Marvel villain?"
"Because she sort of is," Tanvi whispered. "But like, a fashionable villain. The kind that slays while judging you with her eyes."
"She's not that dramatic," Anaya said. Then paused. "Okay, maybe a little."
"She's terrifying in a couture kind of way," Riya added. "Didn't she once say your last Diwali outfit looked like rejected sofa fabric?"
"She did," Anaya sighed. "While sipping coffee and not even looking up from her tablet."
"She's iconic," Tanvi declared. "I want her to approve my outfit. Her critique is the final level of aesthetic validation."
"She critiques with surgical precision," Anaya muttered. "But sure, let's feed her victims."
As if summoned by the conversation, Anaya's phone buzzed. She glanced down.
Meera: Outside your university. I'm giving you five minutes before I leave you forever.
"Speak of the devil," Anaya said, standing up. "She's here. And already threatening abandonment."
"I love her," Riya said wistfully. "Go, go. We'll wait for you to return with wisdom... or emotional damage."
Anaya rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small grin that tugged at her lips as she left.
—
Fifteen minutes later, she returned—with Meera in tow.
The shift in energy was immediate. Meera didn't need to say a word. She just walked in like she owned the room: oversized sunglasses, sleek jeans, a tucked-in white shirt, and a crossbody bag that probably cost more than all their party outfits combined. Her hair was pulled back in that casual-yet-calculated way only older sisters and Pinterest influencers could pull off.
Neha sat up a little straighter. Tanvi whispered something to Riya, who nodded like a royal inspection was underway.
Meera removed her sunglasses slowly, her eyes scanning the group like she was already evaluating their color palettes. "So," she said, voice dry and elegant. "These are the famous friends."
"You've been here ten seconds," Anaya muttered.
"They passed the vibe check," Meera replied, smirking as she took a seat. "Barely."
"Guys, meet Meera," Anaya said. "She's here to bully me and possibly help with dress shopping."
"More help, less bullying," Meera corrected. "Unless you show me florals in winter. Then all bets are off."
Riya leaned in, starry-eyed. "You're even more intimidating than Anaya described."
Meera turned to her, genuinely intrigued. "She talks about me?"
"Only when you insult her outfits," Tanvi added helpfully.
"Ah. So, often."
Laughter broke out again, light and easy. Meera may have walked in like a Vogue editor, but she eased into the group like she belonged. Within ten minutes, she was giving brutally honest—but oddly encouraging—opinions on party outfits, lipstick shades, and heel height tolerance.
"You can either look good or walk comfortably," she told Neha. "Pick one. But if you're going to wobble, at least commit to the aesthetic."
Neha raised her thermos like a toast. "To pain and pretty pictures."
Meanwhile, Riya was already texting her boyfriend options for coordinated outfits. "I need him to look like he belongs in a drama, not a department store ad."
Meera nodded approvingly. "Minimalist but expensive. Keep it clean."
Tanvi pulled out her Pinterest board—now bordering on 150 pins. "I need help. I've fallen into the sparkles-and-chaos trap."
Meera glanced at the board. "Cut the yellow. Keep the teal. Ditch that sari-dress hybrid unless you're auditioning for a fantasy web series."
Tanvi looked like she had seen the light. "You're my guru now."
"And you?" Meera turned to Anaya, eyebrow arched. "Have you picked something that doesn't look like you lost a bet?"
Anaya threw a paperclip at her.
They stayed like that for hours—joking, brainstorming, arguing over which song should open the dance floor. Riya campaigned hard for "Cupid" by FIFTY FIFTY. Neha argued for something with a classic old-school vibe. Tanvi wanted "Glitter and Gold" or something equally dramatic.
"Playlists define the energy of the night," Riya said seriously. "If we start with a flop, our entire batch will remember it forever."
Meera tilted her head. "You guys are taking this very seriously."
"We've been waiting three months," Anaya said. "We deserve this level of extra."
Later, while Tanvi debated hair buns versus braids and Riya scouted glitter eyeshadow on her phone, Meera leaned back and looked at Anaya.
"You seem... better."
Anaya blinked. "Better?"
"Lighter. Like you've been laughing more."
Anaya shrugged, but a small smile betrayed her. "Maybe."
"New friends, new drama, and a party to dress up for," Meera said. "Not a bad combo."
There was a pause. Not heavy—just thoughtful. The kind that made room for quiet understanding.
Then Tanvi shouted, "Emergency! I just found a sale on the shimmer heels!"
The moment broke, and chaos returned.
—
By the time evening rolled in, everyone was riding high on outfit options, song debates, and the vague possibility that someone might cry on the dance floor—either from heartbreak or blisters.
As they packed up, Riya nudged Anaya. "Your sister's cool."
"She terrifies me," Anaya said.
"She should. But she's cool."
"Thanks," Meera said behind her. "You're decent too."
"Highest compliment I've ever received," Riya grinned.
They walked out together, the golden hour casting soft light over the campus paths. There was laughter, debates about whether to go for matching nails, and a quick detour when Tanvi spotted a street vendor selling momos.
Anaya walked a little slower beside Meera.
"Thanks for coming," she said quietly.
Meera glanced at her. "You didn't ask."
"I didn't think you'd say yes."
"I didn't think I would either," Meera admitted. "But... I missed you."
Anaya smiled. "I missed you too."
And for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything was—if not perfect—at least beautifully chaotic.
The kind of chaos that made you believe something fun, unpredictable, and maybe even a little life-changing could be waiting just around the corner.
Like a party.
Or a dance floor.
Or a moment that might change everything.
---
To be continued...