The library still hummed with a quiet rhythm—pages flipping, pens scribbling, the occasional whispered comment that didn't quite follow the rules of silence. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall windows, pooling in golden patches across the carpeted floor and catching tiny dust motes in its glow. The corners of the room were steeped in scholarly seriousness, but at one long table near the window, the mood was anything but.
The teasing about Anaya and her "just-a-friend" had mellowed into good-natured banter, and now the group was lounging comfortably in their chairs, notebooks closed and highlighters forgotten for the moment. Even Neha, who usually kept her study sessions militarily disciplined, had given up pretending they were still working.
Tanvi, half-curled in her seat, was scrolling through her phone with the usual frustrated elegance of someone trying to untangle earbuds and read messages at the same time. Then, abruptly, she sat upright, earbuds dangling from one hand like a trophy.
"Guys," she announced, eyes wide and voice just above a whisper. "Did you hear? The fresher's party might finally be happening!"
There was a collective pause. Riya, mid-sip from her water bottle, choked and slapped the table with theatrical flair. "No way. I thought that was a myth—like campus Wi-Fi actually working."
Anaya snorted into her palm.
Even Neha, the queen of calm, raised a brow. "Didn't they say it was canceled for good? Something about budget cuts and an unfortunate incident with last year's DJ fog machine?"
Tanvi leaned in, her gossip voice fully activated. "Apparently, the student council got the green light yesterday. My senior—Mehul, remember him? The one who always looks like he's just stepped out of a law firm?—he said the auditorium dates are booked. There was some funding mess earlier, but it's all sorted now."
Riya's mouth dropped open. "This is huge. This is... wardrobe-level huge."
Neha blinked, amused. "That's your first thought?"
"Obviously," Riya huffed, pulling out her phone. "I've been emotionally preparing for this moment since week one. And now I have—" she glanced at her screen—"five days to find a dress, fix my eyebrows, and emotionally manipulate my boyfriend into matching my vibe."
Anaya chuckled, shaking her head as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You've had three months. And now it's urgent?"
"You don't get it," Riya said, pointing at her like she was delivering life-or-death wisdom. "It's not about time. It's about the vibe. The pressure to show up and slay is real."
Tanvi laughed. "If anyone's going to slay, it's you. Your Instagram is already a mini fashion magazine."
Riya beamed, flipping her hair. "Thank you. Finally, someone who gets it."
Then her eyes gleamed with mischief as they locked on Anaya. "Speaking of slaying... are you going to bring your mysterious library-boy to the party?"
Anaya didn't miss a beat. "Only if you promise not to lose your boyfriend halfway through the dance floor again."
The table erupted. Tanvi actually slapped the table this time, and even Neha had to lower her head to muffle her laugh. A stern "Shhh!" came from a nearby table, which only made them giggle harder.
"You're evil," Riya said, wiping at her eyes. "But seriously. Imagine it: lights, music, a dramatic slow-mo moment across the dance floor. It's the perfect setup for a confession."
Anaya rolled her eyes. "What is this, a web series?"
"Could be," Neha chimed in. "Season one: Freshers and Feels."
"Episode one: Dress Codes and Denial," Tanvi added.
Anaya leaned back in her chair, clearly amused. "You guys are hopeless."
"Hopelessly fabulous," Riya corrected, striking a pose.
What followed was a descent into joyful chaos. Ideas were tossed across the table like confetti. Dresses, colors, heels, makeup styles, even which song should open the dance floor. Neha declared she wanted to wear a saree—with sneakers. "Why suffer when you can vibe and still walk?" she said with the wisdom of someone who had once endured a three-hour event in stilettos.
Riya was already sketching out an entire aesthetic. "Soft glam Hollywood moment," she announced. "Think dewy makeup, dramatic eyeliner, and that perfect lighting glow. If I don't look like I stepped out of a Hollywood film, what's the point?"
Tanvi raised a hand. "I'm going full Indo-western fusion. I want sequins. I want shimmer. If I don't look like a disco ball under those lights, I have failed myself."
"I think you just want an excuse to blind people," Anaya said, amused.
"Exactly," Tanvi replied. "Blinding them with fashion. The most fabulous form of assault."
Amid the laughter, Anaya casually mentioned, "By the way, my sister's visiting this weekend. I'm dragging her shopping with me."
Riya's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Meera? The mysterious older sister with intimidating fashion taste?"
Anaya smirked. "She thinks she's Vogue undercover editor."
"Didn't she once say your whole wardrobe looked like it came from a discount curtain store?" Tanvi asked, eyes wide with mock horror.
"She said it with love," Anaya said, deadpan. "Deep, soul-crushing love."
That sent them all into hysterics again. Even the librarian glanced over this time, though she seemed more curious than annoyed.
"She sounds like a legend," Riya said. "Can we meet her?"
"You're welcome to," Anaya replied. "But she bites. And she has a strict anti-ruffles policy. You've been warned."
Neha smiled, resting her chin on her palm. "This party might actually be fun."
Tanvi nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yeah, and it's about time we had something that's not an exam or some club orientation where you awkwardly clap for PowerPoint slides."
"And it'll be the perfect way to figure out who's secretly dating who," Riya added with a sly grin. "Trust me, the dance floor reveals everything."
Anaya raised a brow. "Sounds like you're planning a sting operation."
Riya gave her a wink. "I'm always collecting data."
"What are you going to do, make a love map by the end of the night?" Neha asked.
"I already started one," Riya replied cheerfully. "Color-coded. Highlighter system. Confidential, of course."
As the debate shifted into accessories—hoops or dangly earrings, heels or flats, clutches versus sling bags—Anaya found herself smiling quietly. There was something about this energy, this swirling excitement over something as simple as a party, that felt... comforting. After weeks of academic stress, emotional grey zones, and carefully constructed conversations, this chaos was a relief. No hidden meanings, no overanalyzing texts. Just friends being ridiculous, rating each other's outfit ideas with brutal honesty.
They stayed like that for another hour—laughing, joking, flipping through fashion inspiration photos, and poking fun at Tanvi's outrageous Pinterest board that looked like a cross between a royal wedding and a rave.
And in the back of Anaya's mind, as the talk of heels and hairpins swirled around her, one quiet thought nestled in:
Freshers' party. Sounds fun... and like trouble.
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To be continued...