June, 2025

Alchemy was the go-to place for budding writers and struggling artists across greater Kolkata.

Barely a five-minute walk from the Academy of Fine Arts, it came alive every Saturday afternoon—a buzzing den of creative chaos and familiar faces.

Sanvi and Mia often met there. They weren’t best friends. Just two people orbiting the same world—tethered by boredom, heartbreak, and the occasional need for company.

They weren’t perfect, either. Often loud, often flawed, sometimes cruel—but somehow, they survived each other.

"You won’t believe what happened the other day," Sanvi said, shaking her head, eyes glinting. "Dad had a guest over dinner. Guess who it was?"

Mia smirked. "Some famous dude?"

Sanvi bit her cheek, holding back a grin. "The Rochak Sharma."

Mia’s jaw dropped. "The singer? Damn! My crush!" She slapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled. "I take back all my mockery. Also, ask your dad if he can adopt me."

Sanvi laughed, shaking her head.

Sanvi Sekhar wasn’t just any aspiring author. She was the daughter of Nikhil Sekhar, the internationally acclaimed novelist. Her aunt, her father's only sister, Prativa Sekhar, was one of India’s most celebrated theatre artists and a successful businesswoman.

At her family’s dinner table, anyone could turn up—from poets to politicians.

"Oh, Sanvi, you’re such a nepo-kid." Mia teased.

"Please. Says someone whom Malvika Menon invites over for coffee?"

Mia shrugged. "I swear I don’t know what she wants from me. I just like her company." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "But enough about me—what’s the drama in the Sekhar household this week?"

"Nothing new. But here's a thing," Sanvi shifted in her seat, leaning in,"I might join Pratibha aunty in her business."

Mia took a long sip, "Which one? The luxury boutique or the publishing house?"

"Ofcourse the publishing house! Mia..." She rolled her eyes,"I have no intention of having kitty parties with rich middle aged lonely ladies, for fuck's sake! "

Mia smiled, brushing her fingers over the rim of the glass,"You know, Sanvi, I admit, I'm a little jealous at this point."

Sanvi looked up.

"I mean, you have a safe, stable option to choose if things go south... I wish I was even half privileged as you are," she sighed.

It was alcohol talking, yes. But deep down, it was true. And Mia almost made peace with it. Almost.

Sanvi’s smile faded. She lit a Marlboro, her tone flattening. "It’s not all fun, Mia. Being famous comes at a price."

"I wouldn’t mind that kind of price," Mia said, half-laughing. "Too much money? Publishers chasing you?"

Sanvi exhaled slowly. The smoke curled between them. "Try this instead—Dad’s sleeping with a model half his age. Mom doesn’t talk to him. Even, she barely talks to me. Ever since my brother died five years ago—she’s been... different. And my aunt?" She laughed bitterly. "She taught Mom how to ‘live freely.’ Now Mom brings home gigolos. Fucking shameless."

Mia froze. "You’re joking."

"I wish." Sanvi’s lips curved into a sad smile. "Pratibha aunty even gave me a card once. For someone she trusts."

Mia didn’t know what to say. The din of Alchemy faded behind them.

Sanvi’s voice softened. "Would you still trade lives with me? Because I would definitely trade for yours. You have... peace."

"If a broken family, a broken heart and low bank-balance count as peace, then yes." She lifted her glass to toast.

After a moment of silence, Mia gave a short laugh. "My dad doesn’t even acknowledge writing as a profession. I don’t remember the last time he called me, other than the monthly breakfast rituals."

Sanvi smiled faintly. "Guess none of us are happy then."

For a moment, neither spoke. The neon sign outside flickered blue across their faces.

"Any update about Anand?" Sanvi finally asked.

Mia’s throat tightened. Just the name made her chest ache.

It had been two months. One stupid fight. A few cruel words. And suddenly, the man who’d once promised her forever was gone.

"I feel like my life’s a joke," she said, trying to sound casual but failing.

Sanvi reached for her hand. "It’s not. You’re talented, smart, beautiful—"

"Stop." Mia gave a hollow laugh. "Apparently, I’m just not good in bed. That’s what matters most, right?"

"What stupid reason is that?"

"Oh, it is not. He told me, 'What's the point of dating a hot girl if she can't even fuck properly!'", Mia laughed, "Sanvi, tell me, how do I learn to fuck?"

Sanvi frowned. "Don’t do that to yourself."

Mia waved her off. "Relax. I’m fine. Just... another drink?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Sanvi gestured to the waiter. "Fine. But if you start crying, I’m leaving."

Mia smirked. "Deal."

The waiter brought another round.

"I think you should try dating apps." Sanvi nodded.

"No way. You know how weak my heart is...I’ll just fall for another wrong guy."

"Shaadi.com? You can get lucky."

Mia made a face. "Gross."

"How about a gigolo? Like Pratibha? Like my mom?" Sanvi chuckled, that sounded more of a scoff.

Mia nearly choked. "Sanvi—what the hell!"

"What? My aunt says they’re safe, discreet, classy. Expensive too."

Mia gaped. "You’re insane."

"I even have a card. Can you believe, she had the audacity to offer me one."

"You what?"

Sanvi laughed at her expression, then rummaged through her purse and pulled out a sleek pink card.

Mia leaned back, horrified and fascinated all at once. "You’re serious? Your aunt gave you that?"

"Dead serious. Plus, we all know she's fucking shameless."

Mia’s head was spinning—not from the alcohol, but from the absurdity of it all. Then, suddenly, her mind betrayed her.

Don’t you dare beg me to go down on you. For someone who can only lie there, you sure talk big. I don’t care how miserable your life is—at least learn how to fuck. And please, shave. It’s disgusting.

The memory sliced through her like a blade.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it away and stood up.

"Hey," Sanvi asked softly, "you okay?"

Mia forced a smile. "Yeah. Just need the washroom. You call the cheque, I'll take a minute."

She patted Sanvi’s shoulder and walked off, her heels echoing against the floor—steady at first, then slower, until she disappeared past the neon light.

Mia stepped out of the restroom, droplets of water still clinging to her face. Her smudged kohl hadn’t disappeared, but at least it hid behind a layer of freshness.

Sanvi was swiping her expensive credit card. Mia quietly walked over, "Let's split."

"It's okay," she looked up with a grin, "let's spend some money. They've enough."

They both broke into a laugh.

Sanvi picked up her phone, dialing.

"Hari uncle, please bring the car." She spoke as she walked towards the exit.

Mia exhaled. Her head slightly spinning from all the liquor. She reached for her bag, her gaze snagged on something else.

A visiting card. Left flat on the table, forgotten.

Before anyone could notice, Mia slipped it up with practiced ease and slid it into her bag.