Rhea called an emergency meeting for Sunday at eleven.
Meher arrived at eleven-ten carrying coffee. Tanya arrived at eleven-fifteen carrying irritation. Naina was already there because Naina respected emergencies even when they were emotional.
On Rhea’s dining table lay printed screenshots.
“You printed messages?” Tanya asked.
“Screens can fail.”
“Paper can make you look insane.”
Rhea pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
The first page contained Kabir’s message about Tanya’s impossible smile. The second contained the same message sent to Rhea three minutes later.
Tanya read both twice.
“This proves he uses templates.”
“It proves he is seeing me.”
“Saw you.”
“Thursday.”
Silence changed shape.
Meher put down her coffee. “Which Kabir?”
All three turned.
“Kabir Mehra?” she asked. “Events?”
Naina removed her glasses and cleaned them. “Blue shirt in Goa?”
No one spoke for several seconds. Then everyone did.
Dates were shouted. Screens unlocked. Photographs appeared. Meher had met Kabir six times in Delhi. Rhea had seen him on Mondays and occasional Thursdays. Naina had been meeting him on Saturday evenings since June. Tanya had been at his flat often enough to know where he kept spare sheets.
Naina opened a spreadsheet.
“You made a spreadsheet?” Meher said.
“I track personal commitments.”
“You track dates?”
“Only expenses initially. Then patterns.”
The timeline developed in horrifying colour. Kabir had cancelled Tanya for Meher, left Meher early for Rhea and met Naina after telling Rhea he had an event. Sometimes he fitted two women into one day with the efficiency of public transport in a fictional city.
They compared messages.
Kabir admired Meher’s ambition, Rhea’s fire, Naina’s calm and Tanya’s mind. He called all four impossible. He told the same childhood story with different emotional endings. He sent three of them the same sunset photograph.
“Mine had a different crop,” Naina said.
That detail broke something.
“You knew,” Tanya said to Rhea.
“For one day.”
“You asked him before me.”
“I wanted facts.”
“You wanted to win.”
Rhea stood. “You hid him for months.”
“So did you.”
Meher turned toward Tanya. “You saw my story.”
“You called him a client.”
“Because I knew how you would behave.”
“Apparently not.”
Naina said quietly, “All of us hid it.”
The sentence should have united them. Instead it provided new directions for blame.
“How long?” Tanya asked Naina.
“Since June.”
“And you said nothing.”
“Neither did you.”
“I thought it was casual.”
“So did I.”
“You should have told us.”
Naina stared at her. “Why me?”
The question exposed a hierarchy none of them had named. Tanya expected Naina to be cautious, transparent, safe. She had granted herself complexity and assigned her friend responsibility.
Rhea accused Meher of needing every room to rank her first. Meher accused Tanya of hiding behind respectability while judging everyone else. Tanya told Naina silence was not neutrality. Naina replied that people valued her observations only after ignoring her voice.
“You all think I’m safe,” Naina said. “The person men date when tired of excitement.”
“That is not true,” Tanya said.
“You looked surprised he chose me.”
Tanya had no defence fast enough.
Rhea’s anger found older material. She reminded Meher of a school crush Meher had pursued after knowing Rhea liked him. Meher reminded Tanya how she had once called Rhea reckless in front of their parents. Naina listed every trip where her budget work had been mocked and then depended upon.
They were no longer fighting about Kabir. He had merely opened storage.
The doorbell rang.
Rhea froze. “Who invited someone?”
Meher checked her phone. “I told Kabir we needed to talk.”
“So did I,” Naina said.
Tanya’s screen showed Outside. Brought coffee.
“He thinks he is meeting me.”
Rhea gave a terrible laugh. “Of course.”
The bell rang again.
Kabir stood outside carrying four coffees.
For once, he had accidentally ordered the correct number.
He saw Tanya, then Rhea, Meher and Naina behind her. His face moved through surprise, calculation and professional appreciation of disaster.
“This,” he said, “looks bad.”
“Thirty seconds,” Rhea said. “Explain.”
Kabir entered carefully. “Context matters.”
“Twenty-five.”
“None of us agreed to exclusivity.”
“Twenty.”
“I genuinely care about each of you.”
“Fifteen,” Tanya said.
“And I did not want private information—”
“Ten.”
“—to cause unnecessary hurt.”
“You mean consequences,” Tanya said.
Dev’s hypothetical sentence returned with perfect clarity.
Kabir looked at her. For the first time since Goa, no attractive answer arrived.
Rhea opened the door. “Time.”
“Can we discuss this like adults?”
“We are,” Naina said. “Adults can leave.”
Kabir put down the coffees. “I’m sorry.”
“Beginning,” Tanya said. “Not defence.”
He looked at Meher. “I never meant—”
“Do not distribute personalised apologies now,” she said.
He left.
The women stood in the silence after him. Meher noticed the coffee cups.
“He remembered all our orders.”
It was the worst possible detail. Rhea began crying from fury. Naina sat. Tanya reached toward Meher, who stepped away.
“Don’t,” Meher said.
The fight continued because removing the man did not remove their words.
By evening Tanya was home. Sunita asked why she had not eaten. Rajiv reminded her about an insurance form. Ordinary life felt insulting.
In her room, the group chat remained silent for the first time in years.
Kabir sent one message.
I am sorry. No clever version.
Tanya read it and switched off her phone.
An unreliable narrator was not necessarily a liar. Sometimes four intelligent women and one charming man protected the versions of themselves they preferred until the stories met in one room.
The emergency meeting had started the night before, though only Rhea knew it.
After photographing the identical messages, she went home and created a folder named K. Inside she placed Sam’s photograph, Kabir’s messages, dates from her own calendar and screenshots of every time he had cancelled.
At one-thirty in the morning she called Naina.
“I need a factual answer,” Rhea said.
“This is not a factual hour.”
“Are you seeing Kabir Mehra?”
Silence.
Rhea sat up in bed. “Naina?”
“Why?”
“Answer first.”
“No.”
The response came too late and too flat.
“You are.”
“Rhea, what happened?”
“Tomorrow. My place. Eleven.”
“Tell me now.”
“If I tell you now, you will spend the night checking every date.”
Naina was quiet again.
“You already are,” Rhea said.
At two-ten, Naina opened the private expense tracker where she had recorded restaurants, taxis and split payments. She added dates from photographs and calendar entries. Numbers had always calmed her because they did not change tone when confronted.
By three, a pattern emerged.
Kabir had cancelled on the night of Meher’s rooftop story. He had arrived late after Tanya’s school programme. He had joked about “lawyer hours” on a Saturday when Rhea claimed court work in the group chat.
Naina did not sleep.
At ten the next morning, Tanya told Sunita she was going to Rhea’s for an emergency.
“What kind?” Sunita asked.
“Friend.”
Sunita nodded. Some categories required no detail.
Tanya spent the drive rehearsing explanations for the identical messages. Perhaps Kabir had sent one to Rhea accidentally. Perhaps Rhea and Kabir had flirted only in Goa. Perhaps the message was an old joke.
Her mind produced alternatives because the obvious answer had consequences.