‘All right,’ she said, ‘you can give it back when Kavya comes to fetch me.’ I listened to her try and explain how her world worked, but all I heard was the enormous pressure to perform, the inability to have a bad day. I felt for her, understood why she would feel the need to be perfect, but I also wanted her to understand that perfection would never be attainable. Not in today’s disposable world. She was passionate about her life, but somewhere, her ideals had become skewed. If only she could understand that the real Jhanvi, the woman walking arm in arm with me right now, was what the world needed to see. She could be selective and still make an impact. Looking up at me, I could sense her longing, a longing I knew too well. To be accepted and loved with the knowledge that, that love wouldn’t be thrown away or betrayed by those who claimed to love us back.

‘So your friend, Rishi, he’s dating someone?’ she asked suddenly.

I eyed her suspiciously.

‘You looking for a boyfriend?’ I asked, half joking.

‘Oh no! Dr Shyam doesn’t think that is the greatest idea right now. I was actually thinking about Kavya. Perhaps if she had a man in her life, she would give me more freedom.’

‘You’re impossible.’ I laughed, pulling her into my side.

‘I know,’ she replied, ‘but really. Is he seeing someone?’ I gathered that she was trying to find out if there was a reason for me not wanting to burden Rishi with the fact that it was my Maa’s birthday. Honestly, I didn’t want to have the conversation, but there was something about her. Perhaps it was the fact that we were both wounded, trying to heal an invisible pain that we felt others could not possibly understand. Or maybe it was her vulnerability and the fact that I felt safe being vulnerable with her.

‘He has a girlfriend, they have been together a while now.’ I pulled out my phone to show her a picture of Rishi. Her mouth fell open.

‘I know this woman!’

‘What?’ I couldn’t believe we had someone in common in our lives.

‘She’s my cheating ex-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. Complicated, I know.’ She grinned at me. I shook my head in disbelief.

‘Are you sure?’

She laughed at me and I understood why. There was no way that anyone could mistake Latika.

‘She is actually a friend of mine. I … um …’ She stopped, recalling something that was difficult for her to express. ‘She was with me the night of the club opening, the night I got sick.’ I looked at her, understanding what it meant to avoid using the words that admitted there was something more than physical illness happening with us.