I walked through to Kavya’s room to help her decide what to wear. I knew that she would still be standing in front of her wardrobe trying to decide which pair of torn jeans and old t-shirt she would wear.

‘We will be here all day if you are left to decide what to wear on your own,’ I joked, moving her away from the open cupboard. I looked through her clothes and chose a pair of ankle-length skinny jeans and a light salmon oversized shirt. Keeping in mind that we would do some walking today, I pulled out a pair of light pink sneakers and put them in front of Kavya.

‘Here, put this on,’ I said, walking out of the room, ‘and tuck that shirt in loosely.’

Back in the living room, I rummaged through my bag, looking for one item in particular. Kavya walked in, her black hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head. I examined her; if we were going to take photos today, she would need to be on-trend as well. Moving towards her, I methodically folded the sleeves perfectly, so they stopped by her elbows. I slid on the gold cuff I had pulled out my bag moments earlier.

‘You still got those oversized glasses I gave you?’ I asked. Kavya nodded and grabbed them from the hall counter, examining herself in the full-length mirror at the end of the passage. She smiled in approval.

‘You would think you do this for a living,’ she said jokingly. ‘I look fabulous for someone who is wearing five-year-old jeans and an ex’s shirt.’

I giggled. I grabbed my bag from the couch and, after one last touch-up of my makeup, we left Kavya’s house. In the elevator ride down, I took a picture of us smiling. I truly was happy at that moment. I wouldn’t bother with filters this time; the lighting in the elevator was perfect. I hashtagged it #girlsdayout and pressed post. Outside in the hot summer sun, we walked arm in arm to our favourite neighbourhood restaurant. Our usual spot in the corner was free, and we ordered iced tea before Kavya brought the conversation back to what had happened with Puneet.

‘I meant what I said, Jhanvi, not all men are the same. You shouldn’t give up on love.’ She looked deeply into my eyes, searching for some sign that I understood and believed her.

‘This is the third long-term boyfriend I’ve had, Kavya, and two of them thought so little of me that they cheated. I am done with men for a long time. If you want to do something for me, keep me away from any man with chocolate skin and a set of abs, yeah?’ I unlocked my phone to check how my post was doing; hearts filled my screen. I made a mental note—followers up by ten—before turning my attention to my inbox. Amongst all the fan mail and unsavoury photos of male body parts was a message from Burn Promotions. I opened it.