The Mount Lavinia Hotel famously divided itself into two sections, old and new.

The new wing, where we were on the terrace, faced the ocean off a small cliff. The old wing had access to a flat beach, dotted with huts and open marquees, perfect for beachside events.

I joined the girls who were staggering over to the after-party, though I figured this was a lost cause. I’ll just pop my head in, so I could feel like I tried, at least, and call an Uber home. Tomorrow was the Poruwa, which was cutting it super close, but maybe I could catch Kaavi in the morning?

I looked at the time and groaned. 6:43 p.m.

One of the beach huts had been turned into an X-rated dance floor, with inflatable penises hanging from the ceiling. There were squeals and giggles, while a young woman in glasses kept circling the group, reminding everyone to please not take any pictures.

Of course she wouldn’t want any photographs. Bachelorette party pictures of young women being inappropriate were notorious for going viral in Sri Lanka, with plenty members of the older generations shaking their heads and sighing that this is why the rate of divorce was going up. Kaavi could hardly risk such a scandal. I looked around the beach at the other huts, but they were all empty except for the large bonfire that burned a safe distance away. Just like the terrace, the entire beach had been booked out too.

“Tequila shot to enter, biatch!” a girl I had never seen before screamed at me, waving a tray in my face, looking like she’d helped herself to her fair share of shots already.

I smiled politely.

“Maybe later? I need to eat something first.”

“Boo, such a loserrr.”

A loser. My chest felt tight. Here I was again, such a loser. I thought about the girl having one too many tequila shots and drunkenly staggering into the ocean. They’d pull her body out tomorrow, gray and bloated. Unrecognizable. She deserved it.

I turned around and left, unsteady in my shoes over the sand. My heels kept sinking in and I should take them off but there was nowhere to sit and I couldn’t breathe and everything was starting to feel like it was all too much.

I had just reached the corridor that led back toward the hotel when I crashed straight into Kaavi. She had her phone out, as usual, and her brow was furrowed.

She smiled when she saw it was me though.

“Ams? You okay? You’re not leaving, are you?”

I nodded. Here was my chance. Come on, Amaya, get it over with.

“No, don’t go. It’s not my mother, right? I swear she’s been on everyone’s case lately. Don’t tell me she snuck down here after I specifically told her not to.”

“No, no. I’m just tired.” Come on, Amaya, don’t wuss out now.

There was no point beating around the bush. I should just throw in the towel and admit it to myself. I’m a loser. A big piece of chickenshit. About as much gumption as a tapeworm. I thought of how I acted around Kaavi, around Spencer, around Mrs. Fonseka, never being able to spell out what was I feeling even when it mattered. All the advice from Dr. Dunn and rehearsed speeches faltered when I actually had to confront someone. That’s why speaking to Kaavi about all of this was so hard. Spreading a rumor, no matter how true, and hoping it would catch on enough to stop the wedding, was a coward’s plan, and I knew it probably wouldn’t work, but you can’t blame this tapeworm for trying, right?