The birthday party was held in a lush, private garden in South Mumbai, draped in golden fairy lights that looked like fallen stars. The vibe was modern—sleek decor, upbeat music, and the five seniors looking effortlessly cool in their tailored shirts and watches. But the birthday girl was a mess.
Aditi stood in the center of the lawn, wearing a stunning contemporary dress, but her eyes were glued to her phone screen. "She's still not picking up!" she cried out, her voice cracking. "Ira phone nahi utha rahi, Vidhi. Last month hai uska India mein, aur wo mera phone nahi utha rahi?"
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