If there was one person in Devgarh capable of dragging me out of my carefully planned schedule with a single dramatic message, it was Inara Oberoi.

She had texted me the night before.

Urgent. Serious. Life-changing.

Inara used words like that for everything broken nails, bad hair days, existential crises over outfits. Still, ignoring her would only lead to twenty missed calls and a public scene somewhere very inconvenient, so by the next afternoon I found myself walking into the café she had chosen.

It sat on a quiet street in Devgarh, all glass windows and warm golden lights. The kind of place where wealthy people liked to pretend, they had simple taste. I stepped inside, scanning the room automatically for oversized sunglasses and unnecessary drama.

She wasn't there. I checked my phone and dialed her.

"Where are you?" I muttered.

No answer.

I walked toward the corner table she always claimed like personal property and pulled out a chair. Just as I sat down, a voice behind me said loudly, "Excuse me, ma'am, this seat is taken."

I turned, already irritated. Inara stood there in sunglasses, an oversized hat, and a grin so wide it should have been illegal.

"Inara," I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. "Tune mujhe dara diya." (You scared me.)

She dropped into the chair across from me, laughing. "You should have seen your face. I told you it was urgent."

"This is your urgent?" I leaned back. "Main apna kaam chhod kar aayi hu."

(I left my work for this.)

She leaned forward dramatically. "Meeting your best friend is always urgent."

I tried to stay annoyed. I really did. But she looked far too pleased with herself.

"You're impossible," I muttered, though a small smile escaped anyway.

She removed her sunglasses and studied me carefully. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"You look pretty when you're tired though. Like a tragic heroine."

"I'm not tragic."

"Not yet," she said lightly, then waved her hand. "Relax. I just missed you. And I wanted to talk about your show."

That softened me instantly.

"My grand show is in four days," I said. "Everything is chaos right now."

"And I," she said proudly, placing a hand on her chest, "am your star model."

"You're my main model," I corrected. "Don't let it get to your head."

"As if there was ever doubt," she scoffed. "I'm walking the finale."

"Yes," I said. "You're closing the show."

Her eyes lit up like a child being handed a crown. "I knew it."

"You're also late to rehearsals half the time," I added.

"Stars arrive late. It's called presence."

"It's called being unprofessional."

She grinned. "Admit it. You only chose me because I make your clothes look expensive."

"I chose you because you can walk without falling," I replied.

A waiter approached. She ordered for both of us without asking, as usual.

"So," she said once he left, resting her chin on her hand, "tell me about him."

I stiffened. "About whom?"

She smiled slowly. "Don't act innocent, Ila."

"Don't call me that," I groaned.

"Ila~~~~," she repeated sweetly. "My favorite designer with the most secretive love life in Devgarh."

I glanced around quickly. "Lower your voice."

She leaned forward and whispered dramatically, "Digvijay."

My cheeks warmed despite myself. "There's nothing to tell."

"Liar."

"I'm serious."

"You're in love," she said simply. "That's plenty."

I looked down at my cup as the waiter set it in front of me. "We're... good. He's good. We're figuring things out."

"When are you telling your family?"

"Soon," I replied automatically, then stopped. "I know. I always say soon."

Her expression softened. She reached across the table and tapped my hand gently. "Hey. I'm not judging. I'm just asking"

I nodded slowly. A memory slipped in without warning.

We were sitting in his car outside the university gates, rain tapping softly on the windshield. He had looked at me and said, "One day we won't have to hide like this." I had believed him so easily.

Back in the present, Inara was watching me too closely.

"You get that look," she said.

"What look?"

"The 'I'm overthinking' look."

I sighed. "I just want things to stay normal for a little longer."

She smiled faintly. "Normal is boring."

"I like boring."

"You like control," she corrected.

That made me laugh.

"By the way," she added suddenly, "I'm still your favorite, right?"

"I don't have favorites."

"Liar."

She studied me again, softer now. "You know, for someone so put together... you're very easy to read."

"I am not."

"You are," she insisted. "Especially when it comes to him."

I shook my head. She pointed at me. "You're my Satin Queen."

I blinked. "What?"

"Satin Queen," she repeated proudly. "You look smooth and calm, but you crease very easily."

I stared at her.

She grinned wider. "I'm keeping it."

"You're not."

"I am."

I covered my face briefly. "I regret meeting you."

"No, you don't," she said lightly. "You love me."

I did. That was the problem. Outside the café window, Devgarh moved in its usual polished rhythm. Inside, for a short while, things felt simple. Just two friends. Just laughter. Just a fashion show that felt like the biggest thing in my life.

Then Inara picked up her phone. Her expression shifted. Just for a second. Too quick for anyone else to notice. Not too quick for me.

"What?" I asked.

She locked her phone immediately. "Nothing."

"Inara."

"Relax. Bas kaam ka message tha." (Just a work message.)

I didn't believe her. But I let it go.

For now.

When we stood to leave, she hugged me tightly. "See you soon, Satin Queen."

"Stop calling me that," I muttered.

She only laughed. I stepped out into the evening air, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. Devgarh looked calm. Controlled. Predictable.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

Arvind Bhaiya. I answered.

"Come home early," he said.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.