“And . . . sent.”

“Check that out,” one of the women said, tilting her head toward the bar.

It was Tehani, openly laughing and doing tequila shots with the boys.

Maybe I was staring, because she suddenly looked over at me. Something glinted in her eye, though that might have been the light from the numerous outdoor lanterns. She handed her drink over to one of the men and whispered something into his ear, flirtatiously touching his arm. Then, shooting him a dazzling smile over her shoulder, she made her way to where I was standing.

“Amaya, hi, sorry I didn’t see you until now. I’m so glad you came,” she said, smacking her lips loudly as her cheeks touched mine. “Have you said hi to Amma and Thaththa yet? I know they’d love to see you.”

Oh goodness, there was no way I could talk to Mr. and Mrs. Fonseka now.

“Y-yes. Yes, I did. Briefly. They were super busy so I didn’t want to take up too much of their time.”

“Ah, okay. Great. Well”—she gave me a little hug so her lips were close to my ear—“if this lot become too much to handle, you just come find me, okay?”

She sashayed her way back to the waiting group of men. At least one of the Fonsekas wasn’t shunning me. But then, it’s not like Tehani knew about anything that happened.

“What did she want?” a girl with a headscarf asked, mischievously. I thought she might have looked familiar, but if I was being honest, I couldn’t care less about this party anymore. All I wanted to do was get home, change out of this uncomfortable dress, and watch Kaavi’s proposal video.

I managed to exchange polite goodbyes, feign terrible jet lag, and was just about out the main gate when I heard a commotion. There was far more security at the event tonight than there had been during the day—no doubt because there was a politician or two attending.

About four of these security guards, dressed identically to Mahesh’s driver in white short-sleeved shirts and black slacks, were pushing back a disgruntled bald man with a neatly trimmed mustache.

“Mey mona pissuwak the mey?” What madness is this? His voice was raised as he tried to duck around the group of men. “Mata kathakaranna vitharai oney.” I just want to talk.

Talk to whom?

“Pissuda bahng? Yannawa oy yanna. Thamuseta therenne naddha dang party-ak kiyala?” Are you crazy? Get lost. Don’t you understand that there’s a party going on right now?

And with that, one of the larger men shoved him back, causing him to fall—sprawling on the side of the road.

I wanted to step out. I wanted to help him. But as always, something held me back.

He pulled himself up onto his feet, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“Kiyanna thamuselage miss-te mama aava kiyala.” Tell your miss that I came to see her. And with a few choice Sinhala swear words, he turned around and made his way down the lane.