Us.

Dinner Date.

Two women, in their late 20s sat across a restaurant table staring at each other through tear-filled eyes.
Not a word spoken in the past five minutes.
Silence.
Two thin smiles and four wet eyes.

"Thank you." Pritha broke the silence with a trembling voice.

They got up and hugged. They took their time to dry their tears and correct their smudged kohl, and smiled like idiots.

"So you are that terrified woman who refused to give any details about herself or the case?" asked Pritha.

"Surprise, I guess?" grinned Diya.

There was silence again. It had been so long. They hadn't met each other. No phone calls. No messages, no letters, no 'bumped into each other-at-somewhere'.

So long!

"I will design your wedding dress." Diya spoke with a stern face.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I'd love that!"

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. You know, just in case you still want a 'designer' lengha like you did when we were younger blah blah blah, you're not getting one. I will design it. I am a designer." Diya's face was still grim.

"I want you to design it, now. Like, even before you mentioned, I wanted you to." Pritha was now a little scared but she had only spoken the truth.
Is this girl usually this serious or have I said something wrong? Damn, she has changed a lot, then.

"I haven't changed a bit. Don't worry. I was just trying to scare you and look, I did it!" she laughed.

"You piece of shit! I thought you've changed and become boring and all." Pritha relaxed back on the sofa.

"Nahhh. I haven't changed. You have. You're getting married. You never wanted to marry. I wanted to, because I wanted kids. You never wanted marriage. Or kids. But you're getting married."

"You're repeating it."

"For emphasis. Tell me all about it. Him. Whatever."

"Boo! No. Forget him. There are other things we have to catch up on. We haven't talked in six years. Let's follow a chronological order. So that way, he's last."

"At least, tell me the name!"

"Kabir Kashyap." Pritha couldn't conceal her smile.

"Ooohhhhh. Looks like someone is in loooovvvveee." Diya winked, "Kabir Kashyap of KK Industries?"

"Yeah."

"Nice." she poked Pritha as she got up and sat next to her on the sofa.

"Go back to your chair!"

Diya stuck her tongue out as she searched for a photograph on her phone. She showed the picture to Pritha. Pritha stared at her, her floor to the mouth.

"What?" asked Diya with a shrill.

"You're still with him?" One could hear astonishment in Pritha's voice.

Diya smiled, "And now engaged." She flashed the solitaire on her finger at Pritha.

Diya Gupta and Armaan Mallick, now, had been together for 12 years. Wow.

"Congrats, Diya! Though I hate the fact that I missed the engagement because you know, I was the one who had given you approvals to date him."

"I never asked for approvals." Diya smirked.

Asking Diya to shut up, Pritha paid the bill and they raced to the parking lot.

***

"Welcome to Ghar!" exclaimed Pritha as they walked into her house.

"Ghar? So innovative." said Diya sarcastically, "Couldn't you think of something better? Ghar is the Hindi word for 'house'!"

"I know that, Diya. And what's wrong with the name? This is my house, my Ghar, why won't I name it that? Come, I'll show you around."

Pritha lived in a duplex penthouse of a 3o storied building situated in one of the most posh areas of Mumbai. The house was beautiful, and like Pritha had mentioned on the way home, the house reflected her. It was full of whites, blues, off-whites, beige, browns and blacks, unlike Diya's house.
Diya's house, a bungalow in South Delhi had lively colours. It had bright yellows, grassy greens, loud reds and calm blues and whites. It was a designer's house. She knew which colour was most suitable for which room and mood. She knew her house would always be a happy place, for anyone.

"Hey, why such monotonous shades? It's so, so serious and sad." Diya voiced her thoughts.

"You're a designer. You know what is the best when it comes to colours and shades. I don't know all that. All I know is that these shades make me happy. I'm comfortable with them and comfort is one of my favourite type of happiness."

Diya smiled at her.

After giving Diya a tour of Ghar, Pritha took out some DVDs. She picked one and played it on the TV.

"It's Clueless!" Diya quickly removed her shoes and made herself comfortable on the couch.
Clueless was one of their favourite chick-flicks of all times.
Pritha got some popcorn and two bottles of beer.

"Nah, I don't drink. I'm figure conscious."

"Oh, Miss Figure Conscious, you're the designer, not the model. One bottle won't add pounds to your weight." she handed the bottle over to Diya.

"By the way, this is a movie-night because both of us are a little tired today. So, the plan is: Clueless, Mean Girls, Romy and Michele, The Notebook and then the Princess Diaries."

"I don't think we can watch so many in one night but, okay!"

They both shared yet another laugh and glued their eyes to the screen. But the brains wandered somewhere else.

Oh God, please make things the same again. These movies are just to avoid talking about what happened six years back. But we have to talk all that out. We're more sensible now, it'll be easier. But it has to happen before the wedding, actually, as soon as possible.

"Diya?!"

"Pritha?"

Both called out the names at the same time.

Telepathy things.

"We need to talk." said Pritha.

"I know." agreed her soul-sister.