I tore down the stairs like my soul was on fire.
My heart was thudding against my ribs. I could barely breathe.
Noah was outside. Dia said he was having a heart attack.
And after everything—every mess, every silence—I didn't care what we were anymore. Just that he was okay.
I flung open the front door, panic laced through my throat.
He stood there on the porch, slightly hunched, clutching his chest.
"Noah?" I gasped, grabbing his arm.
He looked up.
And then—
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Confetti exploded.
Someone popped a balloon.
I blinked.
There were fairy lights. Streamers. A questionable banner that said "Sana's Quarter Life Crisis Club."
And everyone—everyone—was grinning like lunatics.
Alex had party hats. Dia held a cake. Dadi stood proudly, arms crossed like she'd orchestrated a government sting operation.
I stared, utterly betrayed.
"You faked a heart attack?" I said to Noah.
He winced. "I panicked. You weren't replying. And it technically wasn't a heart attack. Just heart… activity."
"I hate you."
"I know. But happy birthday."
Ten minutes later:
I was sitting on the couch, wearing a tiara that said "Twenty-Fine", and trying not to cry into a plate of butter pav.
Dadi was emotional.
Like full-on tears-in-her-eyes emotional.
"Your parents would've been so proud, beta," she said softly. "Their little Sana. All grown up. Twenty-five. Making chaos and headlines."
I laughed through the lump in my throat. "Making court cases and HR complaints."
She kissed my head anyway.
Then Alex pulled out a suspicious bag.
"What's in that?" Dadi narrowed her eyes.
"Uh. Sparkling… grape juice," he said too fast.
Noah didn't even try. He pulled out a bottle of wine with the smugness of a man who'd brought backup.
Dadi's face went full scandal mode.
"There will be no alcohol in this house!" she declared. "This is a respectable household! Do you want our ancestors to rise from the dead and disown us?!"
Alex immediately fell to his knees like a soap opera hero.
"Please Dadi, it's just one night. Just one celebration. I've been through so much. I'm unemployed and emotionally fragile!"
Noah, the traitor, gave her his most innocent, puppy-eyed grin.
"Come on, Dadi. I'll do dishes for a week."
Dadi folded her arms. "You think one grin can undo fifty years of moral conditioning?"
She paused.
Then sighed dramatically. "Fine. One night. No photos. No evidence. And only one glass each."
Cheers erupted like we'd won the World Cup.
First was Alex, who stood up with a glass of what he claimed was juice.
"Here's to me finally quitting that hellhole of a job," he declared. "And to finding someone to love. Because—let's be honest—my love life has been drier than Dadi's kitchen during Navratri fasting."
We all groaned.
"Also," he added, pointing at me, "to Sana, who once accidentally locked me out during winter because she thought I was a raccoon trying to break in."
"I was sleepy and the CCTV was blurry!" I protested.
Dia's toast was next.
She raised her glass dramatically. "To meeting Emrik Sovaire, falling in love, and giving birth to little Emriks."
"Please don't name your kids Emrikita and Sovy," I begged.
"To Sana," she continued, ignoring me. "Who once made me distract the security guard while she stole a stapler because 'it had vibes.'"
"It did have vibes!" I yelled.
"And who once tried to prank HR and ended up cc'ing the client instead."
"That was one time!"
"May we stay like this forever," she said, softer now. "Chaotic. Messy. And weirdly perfect."
Then came Dadi.
She raised her steel tumbler like a queen.
"To raising a girl who never needed anyone to tell her she could be more," she said, tearing up again. "You did it all yourself. But I'm glad I got to watch."
We were all sniffling now.
"And to my late husband," she added. "I know you're probably jealous, seeing me flirt with Ramamurthy on walks, but too bad. He brings me kulfi in flasks. Deal with it."
We clapped. Cackled. Cried.
Finally, Noah stood up.
His voice cracked before he even began.
"To Sana. Who showed up in my life like a firecracker in a library," he said. "Loud. Unpredictable. And impossible to ignore."
I blinked.
"And to this house—this mad, weird, beautiful house—for becoming mine, too," he said. "You guys made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn't just the guy hiding secrets or writing dumb poetry in my phone notes. Thank you."
I stared at my cake to avoid eye contact.
Because damn it, the poetry was good.
Then it was my turn.
I stood up, heart loud in my ears.
"I don't know what I did to deserve all of you," I said. "But thank you. For being here. For being insane. For sticking around."
Everyone raised their glasses.
"Also," I added, "this year, I promise to grow up a little. Be less scandalous. Less impulsive. Less... me."
"BOOOOOO," Alex said. "We like our mess!"
"Okay, okay. Slightly more stable, then. But still with you all. Always."
"To twenty-five," Dia said, raising her glass.
"To our disaster queen," Alex added.
"To this madhouse," Noah whispered.
We clinked glasses.
And then—
we danced.
We laughed until our sides hurt. We played weird 90s music. Dia choreographed a ridiculous version of "Chaiyya Chaiyya" on the balcony railing. Alex and Noah got into a dramatic slow-dance competition over a Taylor Swift song.
And to everyone's shock—
Dadi drank the most.
1:27 AM. Living Room.
Dadi passed out on the couch, tiara still on.
Alex and Noah were on the floor, hugging and crying about single life and "not being enough for modern women."
I threw a blanket over them.
Dia puked in the bathroom and I cleaned it up, because apparently I was the birthday mom now.
I got her into bed, tucked her in, and wiped my face with a leftover party napkin.
And as I stood in the middle of our disaster zone—cake crumbs, confetti, two sleeping men on the floor, and my drunk, snoring grandma—I felt it:
Home.
Messy. Loud. Imperfect.
But mine.
And for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like running.
I felt like staying.
I woke up grumpy, throat dry, hair tangled like a bird's nest, and a faint throb in my temples.
The house was weirdly loud this morning.
Screaming?
I got out of bed and trudged to the living room.
There was chaos.
Alex was pacing from one corner to the other, dramatically reading off Dadi's phone while she attempted—drunkenly and unsuccessfully—to snatch it back.
"Alex! Give that back, you traitor!" Dadi swatted at him with a cushion.
"I have a duty to the people," he declared, dramatically dodging her. "Text number seven, timestamp 2:43 AM: 'Ramamurthy ji, your smile is like mango pickle in summer. Tangy and dangerous.'"
Noah nearly fell off the couch laughing.
Alex wiped tears as he continued, "Text eight: 'Do you believe in rebirth? Because I think we were squirrels in our last life and you cracked open my heart-nut.'"
Dia emerged from her room mid-yawn. "What the hell is happening?"
" Text nine: If I were a younger woman, I'd ask you to elope. But I have osteoporosis, so maybe just dinner?" Alex went on.
"Dadi drunk-texted her boyfriend," I explained, sipping water.
"Your fault!" Dadi cried dramatically. "All of you! You made me drink wine! I thought it was grape juice!"
"After your fourth glass, it definitely wasn't," Noah said, still chuckling.
Eventually, we calmed her down. Dadi sank onto the sofa with a pout, mumbling, "I'm never drinking again... unless it's a date night."
By noon, I was at the office.
The birthday wishes were... lacking.
No balloons. No whispered surprises. No cake in the breakroom.
Only Raha and Alex popped in around lunch.
"Sorry, babe," Raha said, giving me a side hug. "Emergency deck revisions. But dinner tonight, okay?"
"Damage control mode," Alex added with a grin. "We're talking fine dining, good lighting, and even better memes."
"It's okay," I smiled, and I meant it. Kind of.
The rest of the day was a blur of email chains, printer jams, and people frantically forming teams for what appeared to be a Very Important Project.
During the late-afternoon meeting, Ethan entered like a storm cloud in a tailored suit.
He didn't shout.
But his voice had that edge.
"Whatever you've done so far—good, bad, mediocre—scrap it. This deal has to be perfect. There will be no room for error. If there is, you're out. Fired. Gone."
The air in the room dropped five degrees.
He looked at me—just once—and it was colder than the AC vent.
After the meeting, his assistant called me in.
"Three months. Full immersion. Tight deadlines. You're on the core team," Ethan said.
"Why is this so important?" I asked. "You're acting like it's personal."
His jaw tightened.
"Because it is. I pulled this deal away from Suresh Agarwal."
I froze.
"Mr. Suresh Agarwal as in..."
"Yes. My father. He's attending the final pitch. And I'm not walking into that room to lose."
His voice had that finality to it.
I backed away slowly, lips shut.
No more messes, Sana.
Lines. Boundaries. Walls.
Time passed as I flipped through the stack of files in front of me. It was the kind of paperwork that gave you headaches from just the font size. Tables, projections, deliverables — all just words trying to smother me in panic. But I had to learn. I had to deliver.
Aryan and Raha stood in front of me, arms crossed like bouncers waiting to escort me out of my misery.
"Done?" Raha asked.
I glanced at the clock. Somehow it was evening already. I sighed, pushing the file away.
We got into a cab. I looked down at myself.
"This dress is not right," I murmured, tugging at the hem. "Too corporate, too basic. I should've changed."
Raha snorted. "It's okay. We're corporate baddies. We slay in linen too."
As we stepped out of the cab, I stared at the glowing name board.
"Are we... in the right place? I don't think we can afford water here."
"Trust me," Raha winked.
And then, as I turned, I spotted him.
Ethan.
Standing near the entryway, on the phone, one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable. His green eyes flicked toward me for a split second — just long enough to set my spine straight.
He did this?
I wasn't sure whether I wanted to run or melt.
But I didn't have time to think because when I turned around—
"Happy birthday, loser," Alex grinned
Dadi. Alex. Dia.
And... Ramamurthy Uncle.
I rushed to Dadi and whispered, "So... the texts worked, huh?"
She blushed. "I guess so."
Dinner started formally.
Everyone was making polite introductions.
I knew them all.
I was already bored.
Alex, the savior, pulled out his phone.
"Okay, enough. Let's lighten this up. DJ mode, activated!"
He played "Sheila Ki Jawani" and dragged me and Dia to the floor.
We danced. Badly. Loudly. With full Katrina energy.
One by one, everyone joined.
Except Ethan.
Of course.
Dia, unaware of who he was, extended a hand to him.
He gave her a look and declined. Dia returned, offended.
Dadi stood up, as if sensing something.
"Play something slow," she announced. "We need romantic vibes."
Alex smirked, changing the playlist.
Couples paired up.
I was with Raha. Aryan tried his luck with Ethan.
To my surprise, Ethan accepted.
The room turned into an impromptu ball.
People switched partners.
And suddenly, he was in front of me.
Ethan.
I stumbled.
"You can't dance," he said, smirking.
"You're not exactly Gene Kelly either."
He placed his hands on my waist.
"Better now?"
"Debatable."
We moved awkwardly at first.
You stepped on Aryan's foot. Twice." he said, low.
"You weren't even dancing, Mr. Sit-and-Stare."
"That's because someone had to supervise this disaster."
"Ah, so you were supervising? I thought you were sulking."
He smirked.
I smirked back.
And then I said, "So… you invited everyone but your own brother? Aka my boyfriend?"
He raised a brow. "He's running late."
"Suspiciously late."
"He had work."
"Do you always speak like a Wikipedia page?"
He pulled me closer in a spin. I stumbled slightly, my balance tipping.
But his hand caught my waist, anchoring me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
Because we were too close now. Too… in it.
His heartbeat echoed through my ribs. His cologne — familiar, intoxicating — filled every breath I took.
I looked up.
Green eyes. Unblinking.
I tried to turn away, but my earring brushed his cheek, and I nearly gasped.
My mind screamed: This isn't supposed to happen.
Right then, like a perfectly timed movie cue — the door opened.
Noah walked in.
Everyone turned to greet him, cheering.
I stepped back, shaking slightly.
Noah walked over, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered, "Happy birthday again, my love."
My body stiffened, not because I didn't care.
But because… I was still spinning from the last dance.
Dinner was served.
We sat.
Ramamurthy uncle raised his glass and said, "You can win a woman's heart with kulfi. But you have to keep trying."
The table exploded.
Noah saluted dramatically. "Noted, uncle. I'm taking notes."
Dadi beamed. "Maybe women should drunk text more often!"
Alex groaned. "Please don't normalize that. We're still recovering from last night's messages."
I looked at Ethan. No expression. Nothing. He didn't laugh. Didn't frown. He just… kept eating.
And yet, when I caught his eyes for a brief moment — I felt something crack.
I turned back to Noah, who was chatting non-stop. He was everything I should want. Comfortable. Constant.
So why was my heart acting like a damn earthquake?
Noah leaned toward me. "Dadi," he called. "I'm borrowing your granddaughter for the rest of the evening."
Dadi winked. "Just don't get pregnant before marriage!"
"DAAAADI!"
"I'm serious. I need to update my Facebook status as a great-grandmother someday."
Noah grinned, ignoring my flushed face. "Don't worry, Dadi. We'll give you good news soon."
I elbowed him, and he yelped.
People started leaving.
He held me close.
"Happy birthday again," he said. "You're everything I ever wanted."
He leaned in.
And he kissed me.
It was soft. Warm. Familiar.
It was… right.
Perfect? Maybe it was.
Until I heard it.
A throat clearing.
I pulled back.
And there he was.
Ethan.
Standing by the bar.
Watching.
Expression unreadable.
My stomach dropped.
Because in that moment, I didn't know what scared me more—
The fact that he saw it…
Or the fact that I wanted him to.