In college, Nisha and Anirudh were too lost in themselves to notice my bad mood. We had a free period just before lunch and Nisha was smiling dreamily at Anirudh, who was explaining something related to organic chemistry to her, a subject that I hated.

I sat on the other side, getting angrier by the minute. My stomach felt like it had caved in and these two were being nauseating. I knew my resentment had no real reason except that I was probably hangry and I was taking it out on them. Not that they were even aware of it, I thought glumly.

Only when the bell rang for lunch did Nisha realize that there was something wrong because I was giving her monosyllabic answers. She knew I only did that whenever I was angry. I brushed off her concerns furiously.

‘Why don’t you just go and spend time with your boyfriend?’ I snapped at her.

She glared at me and Anirudh winced. But the two of them dragged me to the cafeteria for lunch. I sat down sullenly, even more annoyed at the way my nose twitched at the many aromas here.

‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ she said.

I stared at her and heaved a sigh. ‘Everything,’ I said.

Anirudh was toying with a paper napkin and he looked up at me. ‘So talk to us,’ he said.

‘When do the two of you ever have time for me?’ I snapped.

They looked at each other and I suddenly hated them in that moment, when they were a unit and I was on the outside.

‘I asked you before . . .’ Nisha began.

‘Before hooking up with him?’ I asked nastily.

‘Ananya, you’re not being fair,’ Nisha said.

I knew it. I wanted to stop myself from saying hurtful things, but I couldn’t.

‘Yeah, you’re one to talk,’ I said cuttingly.

‘Ananya, Nisha and I are together because we like each other. But you’re my only other best friend. If you can’t tell us what’s wrong, how can we help you?’ he asked.

I was about to tell him to take his help and shove it up his . . . when Nisha shook her head.

‘This isn’t you talking,’ she said.

I frowned. ‘What?’

‘What did you eat today?’ she asked me. She didn’t wait for me to answer as she started counting things off on her fingers. ‘Those disgusting crackers you always eat.’

‘I had an omelette,’ I defended myself. ‘And an apple.’ I’d eaten the apple in the auto to college because my stomach was churning from the smells of the cheesy pasta in the kitchen and it demanded more than the stupid omelette I’d eaten.

‘Good. Then you can have something here,’ she said and before I could realize it, she had ordered mushroom and cheese sandwiches for us.

I resolved to not to eat any when they came.