I laugh and take a sip from my cup. I try not to grimace at the bitter taste. Cora has a tendency to forget how I prefer my coffee, but I never complain, because she still went out of her way to bring it for me. “Last night I went to bed at one in the morning after binging three movies, and Dadu didn’t say a word. Can you believe that? We truly love to see it.”

“Ugh, wish I could relate. Ever since my grandparents moved in, they hog the television all the time, and it’s just not the same watching on my laptop.” Nandini sighs heavily. “I’m considering spending my next paycheck on a TV for my room.”

“You should,” Cora says, her hazel eyes bright. “Imagine the movie marathons we could have.”

Nandini grins before looking back at me. “Seriously though, babe. I’m happy for you. You needed this.”

I offer her a small smile. “Yeah, I really did.”

The last few months have been difficult, and both Nandini and Cora know it. We’ve never had a reason to keep secrets from each other. When Nandini decided during sophomore year that she didn’t want to grow out her hair anymore, Sikh or not, we were the first people she told. We took her to the hair salon ourselves and held her hand the entire time. When Cora realized last year that she’s bisexual, our group chat blew up my phone the entire night. We all showed up the next morning with matching dark circles underneath our eyes and smiled tiredly at each other in solidarity.

At the beginning of the year, I realized I didn’t want to be a doctor or an engineer or anything relating to STEM. It was the most terrifying realization of my life. It still is.

When I hypothetically brought up pursuing something other than medicine to my parents—I didn’t even mention being an English major—I received the worst lecture of my life. It went on for weeks upon weeks and stopped only when they began preparing their travel plans.

Their reaction was a horror story brought to life. Until then, I’d never realized I had anxiety. It was undeniable, though, when I found myself sitting alone in my room, struggling to breathe through my tears with an unknown pressure building in my chest.

In retrospect, I think I’ve always had it. It’s just never been as bad as it is now, with the future looming over my head, so impossibly far away and yet closer than ever.

Nandini and Cora still think I should push for an English degree. I think my parents might actually disown me if I try.