At eight, a speaker was delayed. Kabir reorganised the programme. At eight-thirty, artificial-cloud machines released too much vapour and briefly concealed the stage. At nine, the app’s founder improvised a twenty-minute speech about radical authenticity.
Rhea watched from the back. “I object to every sentence.”
“You are not officially attending,” Meher whispered.
“I object privately.”
The first serious failure came when Sam noticed them.
“All four!” he shouted. “Is this the intervention?”
Conversation dimmed around him.
Tanya closed her eyes.
Dev seized Sam by the shoulder. “Press gift bags need help.”
“Do I look like staff?”
“You look available.”
He dragged Sam away while Meher smiled at nearby guests as if interventions were a standard brand feature.
At nine-forty-five, Kabir removed his headset and checked his phone. Four private meetings now occupied the next ninety minutes. His messages tried to distribute them.
To Tanya: Bar at ten.
To Meher: Ten-thirty?
To Naina: Can I call at eleven?
To Rhea: Tomorrow morning. Need proper time.
“He is still rearranging us,” Naina said.
“Then we rearrange him,” Meher replied.
Tanya sat alone at the table. The others waited beyond his direct line of sight.
Kabir entered at ten, saw her and relaxed.
That detail hurt. Tanya had become the meeting he believed easiest to contain.
“You came,” he said.
“I invited you.”
“You have ignored me for weeks.”
“Sit.”
Meher appeared before he reached the chair.
“You said ten-thirty,” she told him.
Rhea stepped from behind a column. “He said tomorrow.”
Naina placed the folder on the table. “He suggested a call.”
Kabir looked at the honesty sign above them, then at Tanya.
“You chose the table.”
“Meher did,” Tanya said. “Professionals respect atmosphere.”
The first five minutes followed the rehearsal. Naina established facts. Rhea prevented diversions. Meher named the repeated personas. Tanya asked about choice.
Then Kabir did something none expected.
He agreed.
“The timeline is correct,” he said.
Rhea looked almost disappointed. “All of it?”
“I need to verify two dates, but the pattern is correct.”
“Pattern,” Meher repeated. “Excellent word when actions become unattractive.”
Kabir turned to Naina. “I should have told you.”
“Do not apologise separately,” she said. “That is how you divide the room.”
He nodded.
“We were not exclusive,” he said, addressing all four.
Tanya agreed.
The surprise on his face revealed how much he had expected a weaker argument.
“The wrong was not dating other people,” she said. “It was identifying those people as strangers when they were my closest friends, then withholding that fact because you knew I might stop.”
Kabir looked around the table. “Yes.”
The simple answer unsettled Rhea’s prepared cross-examination.
“Why four?” Meher asked.
“It did not begin as four.”
“Numbers usually begin as one.”
Kabir explained Goa. He and Tanya had obvious chemistry. He and Rhea argued into a kiss on the final night after Tanya went to bed. Meher messaged him about an event contact, and flirting grew inside work talk. Naina asked for a restaurant recommendation; they met when both had a free evening.
“Each conversation felt separate,” he said.
“Because you kept it separate,” Naina replied.
“Yes.”
At first he believed one connection would become serious and the others would end. Then none ended. Every woman wanted something different enough for Kabir to imagine he was offering separate truths.
“What did Tanya want?” Rhea asked.
Kabir glanced at her. “Freedom without being treated carelessly.”
Tanya hated the accuracy.
“Meher?”
“Someone who did not ask her to be less ambitious.”
“Naina?”
“To feel chosen before she had to compete.”
Naina’s face closed.
“And me?” Rhea asked.
“A person who did not become frightened when she argued.”
Rhea leaned back. “You understood the vulnerabilities and used them.”
“I understood because I cared.”
“Care is not innocence,” Tanya said.
Kabir lowered his eyes. “I know.”
At the next table, two guests were openly listening. Meher turned toward them.
“Private conversation.”
They looked away.
Kabir said, “I did not plan this as a strategy.”
“Planning is not required for repetition,” Naina said.
“I kept waiting for the least damaging time to tell you.”
“Which somehow arrived after discovery,” Rhea replied.
“Yes.”
“Did you use protection with everyone?” Naina asked.
The directness quieted him.
“Yes. Every time.”
“Any exceptions, failures or relevant risks?”
“No.”
“Have there been other overlapping partners?”
Kabir looked toward the table. “Two dates. Nothing physical. And one person before Goa who contacted me again once.”
“The earring?” Tanya asked.
He understood immediately. “Aisha’s. Former colleague. We dated last year. She stayed after an event in June. Nothing happened.”
“Sam has no sister,” Rhea said.
“I panicked.”
“You invented a woman to hide another woman who did not require hiding,” Meher said.
“Yes.”
For the first time, the situation became ridiculous enough to laugh at. Naina released one disbelieving sound. Tanya covered it with a cough.
Kabir looked almost hopeful.
“A joke does not change a fact,” Tanya reminded everyone, including herself.
“I did not make the joke,” Kabir said.
“Do not seek credit.”
The confrontation lasted forty-three minutes. By the end, Rhea’s questions were softer, not because Kabir had escaped but because he had stopped fighting the premise. Meher no longer performed indifference. Naina had every health fact she needed. Tanya finally asked the question Kabir had once invited.
“Did you know I would probably end it if I knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then you chose for me.”
“Yes.”
“That is the thing I will not forgive quickly.”
Kabir nodded. “I understand.”
“No,” Tanya said. “You understand the sentence. The rest takes time.”
Rhea stood. Her heel broke. The waiter announced the non-refundable bottle. Naina sat back down with financial finality.
The women moved to another table. Kabir remained beneath the honesty sign. Sam’s Labrador email reached three journalists and the app’s founder, who thought it was a viral campaign idea.
At midnight, the four women walked to the parking area together. Rhea carried her shoes. Meher complained that the operation’s closing image had been destroyed. Naina calculated the exact cost per minute of confrontation.
“Worth it?” Tanya asked.
Naina considered. “Expensive. But yes.”
They stopped near the cars.
“Did we expose him?” Rhea asked.
“To us,” Meher said.
“Enough?”
Tanya looked back at the hotel. Through the glass, Kabir was helping staff remove a malfunctioning sign. Even disgraced, he repaired atmosphere.
“Enough,” she said.
Revenge had not given them triumph. It gave them a shared version of events that no one could privately edit.
That was more useful.
The operation’s immediate aftermath took place in three locations: the parking basement, a twenty-four-hour dhaba and Kabir’s empty ballroom.
In the basement, Rhea discovered the broken heel had also damaged the strap.
“These shoes cost fourteen thousand,” she said.
Naina stopped walking. “You spent fourteen thousand on shoes?”
“Focus on the guilty man.”
“The shoes made independent choices.”
Meher removed emergency flats from her bag.
“You brought spare shoes?” Tanya asked.
“I plan endings.”
Rhea put them on. “You are the greatest among us.”
The praise was excessive and sincere.