But something keeps her rooted there. She’s not sure if it’s the buzz from the champagne or boredom or just good old-fashioned little-sister nosiness, but she can’t leave. On Suhani’s white bedside table there’s a candle from Anthropologie, a ring dish, a book titled Freud and Beyond, and, ah, the gold mine.

Suhani’s journal.

Natasha looks around even though she knows nobody else is in the apartment. Excitement rushes through her, the same type that she used to get when she’d press her ear against Suhani’s door and listen to her phone conversations.

She picks up the peony-covered notebook with the tips of her fingers, as if just one slip can result in it dissolving in her hands. The last page is dated earlier this week.

I’m worried Zack and I aren’t having enough sex. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’m just not in the mood. Maybe I’m too tired or drained or something. I love living with him but sometimes I just come back from work and want my own space. All he wants to do is talk, talk, talk, and I feel like I hurt his feelings when I ask him to just give me a minute. And then when he does, his idea of giving me a minute is putting his mom on speakerphone! I know how selfish this is but sometimes I forget how we’re supposed to just embrace each other’s worlds in every single way.

Zack and Suhani are having issues like this? But everything between them always seems fine. Perfect.

Her thoughts are interrupted by her phone buzzing with a text.

The comedy club!

When Natasha gets up to grab her phone, she realizes she’s drunk. Very drunk.

MOM: I heard Karan is being set up with people!!!!! Call me now!!!

Her heart starts racing as she rereads the text. What does Mom mean, set up with people? Karan just proposed to her five minutes ago!

Mom has to be wrong. She’s been wrong so many times with her intel. Mira Auntie probably just said something and it got blown up. Because there’s no way Karan is being set up with anybody. He doesn’t exactly have initiative in the romance department, aside from the terribly timed proposal. Natasha had to teach him how to kiss, then touch her boobs, then do everything else. She often felt like a strict health teacher pointing out a woman’s anatomy.

She tells Mom she’s working and will call later.

The champagne’s starting to give her a headache. She sits on the corner of the bed. Maybe she should take a nap.

Her phone rings as she’s about to doze off.

“Hello?” She clears her throat so it doesn’t sound like she’s been drinking.