“I can’t tell if walking away from something like that means I’m really brave or just really dumb. It’s so weird how in a matter of days, my life looks totally different than what I thought it would. And obviously our parents also wanted it to work out.”

“And since when do you let our parents tell you what to do? Or anyone?” Anuj smiles at her in that same knowing way he has since they were toddlers. In general, Anuj was a total do-gooder, but Natasha could always convince him to live a little.

“You’re right,” Natasha admits. “But sometimes I do wonder, even though people have told me it’s good I speak my mind and do what I want, is that really what they want? Or deep down, does everyone hope that I just accommodate to fit some traditional mold?”

Natasha once saw a documentary about how girls and boys are encouraged to “dream big” when they’re young but only girls are later judged if their ambitions get in the way of their becoming mothers and wives.

“Natasha! Anuj! Dinner!” Mom yells from downstairs.

Anuj opens Natasha’s bedroom door. “Be right there.”

“I don’t want another night of Indian food,” Natasha says. “Let’s head out for the show. We can pick something up on the way.”

“Now?” Anuj looks up from his iPad. “I thought you didn’t have to be there for two hours.”

“I don’t, but I can’t stand being in this house. And I definitely can’t sit across from Mom at the dinner table for another night.”

Anuj shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

But for Natasha, it really is. Everything seems to bother her these days: not having a job, the patriarchy, her unruly eyebrows. She can’t even distract herself with social media scrolling because everyone else is thriving. Just an hour ago, she saw that Brian Wilkins, who left her in the middle of prom to hook up with the captain of the cheerleading squad, is now an Instagram influencer. Sure, she hasn’t spoken to Brian since prom and should stop hate following him because he’s no longer relevant to her life. But that’s not the point. Because even aside from Brian, so many other people from her high school keep posting pictures of their glittering diamond rings or fancy jobs. And they all seem to be going on beautiful vacations, sipping jewel-toned cocktails, or looking out at some gaping body of water, while she’s struggling and alone. This is not how things were supposed to be when she was twenty-three.

She forces herself to focus. Everyone else’s perfect lives don’t matter. What matters is that she has work to do. She has a life to start building.