Exciting news coming soon! the caption read, and of course the crowd had gone wild.

I scrolled through the Omg, you have to tell me and the Are you pregnant? comments, but of course she gave nothing away.

Maybe she was pregnant? Wouldn’t that be something? Maybe she decided to break one of the many unwritten social rules of being a Sri Lankan woman and was going to have a child without being married.

Or maybe her charity, Pink Sapphires, was announcing something big? That seemed more likely. She was always working with underprivileged girls—giving them opportunities they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to dream about. Enriching their lives. Being their savior.

I commented from my account ForestFern23—The suspense is killing me, Kaavi!

Then I scrolled through her feed, looking for any other signs or hints about what the big news was. But of course there was nothing. Just perfect pictures of her looking perfect, being perfect. Pictures with the girls she helps, pictures from her dad’s gem business, which she is geared to take over, pictures brunching and on the beach and living her best Colombo 07 life.

I forced myself to turn my phone off and take a deep breath. I needed to focus on the night ahead of me, not fixate on what Kaavi was up to, a million miles away in my hometown.

I took another deep breath.

And another.

But her post still stayed with me, a pebble in my shoe.

Perfectly lined pink lips. A secret just behind them.

Shhh! Exciting news coming soon.

It was 8:55 p.m. when the limousine pulled up to the front of the hotel—double digits again, thank goodness. See, I had nothing to worry about after all.

I waited for the doorman to open my door before I glided out. A soft breeze fluttered around me and I shivered again. I was still cold from the car ride.

I didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the quiet, dimly lit hotel lobby on my way to the front desk, not that anyone would be interested anyway. This was Los Angeles, not Colombo. Anonymity and discretion were part of the lifestyle here, if you wanted it, even though I was nowhere near as rich or famous as those who craved it the most.

“Clara White—I believe you have a key for me?”

I didn’t make eye contact with the young woman at the reception either. I could feel her studying my dress, noting that I came directly from the front doors and not the restaurant, that I was clearly being left a key by someone who wasn’t walking into this building accompanying me.

I looked at the time on my phone. 9:00 p.m., on the dot. See, there was nothing to worry about. Things would go my way this evening after all.

“You’re in room 587,” she chirped. I balked at the number. So unlucky. It made me think of the Instagram post again.

Shhh! Exciting news coming soon.

What in the world was she about to announce?