Nayantara

The graduation ceremony took place in the main hall of the University of Sydney, and honestly, I had never seen that place look more beautiful than it did that morning.

Hundreds of students sat in rows wearing their green gowns and black caps, and the sunlight was coming through the large windows in such a way that everything looked shiney..... shiney .

Families filled the guest seats behind us, and I could feel my parents' eyes on my back even without turning around to look at them.

When my name was called, I walked up to the stage with the biggest smile on my face.

The chancellor shook my hand and handed me my degree, and for that one moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the nightmares, not the fears, not any of the struggles I had faced to reach this day. I held that piece of paper in my hands and felt like I was holding my entire future.

Then came the moment I had practised from past one month. Yes time for my short speech.

I walked to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and looked at the crowd of faces staring back at me.

"Good morning everyone," I began, and my voice sounded steadier and more confident than I expected.

"When I came to this university three years ago, I was a nervous eighteen year old who had no idea what she was doing with her life. Today I am standing here with a degree in my hand and a job offer in my pocket, and none of this would have been possible without the people sitting right there in the third row."

I pointed towards my family, and my mom immediately wiped the tears in her cheeks. My dad was trying to look tough, but I could see his eyes getting moist too. Sam was busy taking a video on his phone, probably recording this for blackmail material later.

"To my parents," I continued, "thank you for every late night call when I was homesick, for every care package you sent when I was surviving on instant noodles, and for never once making me feel like I was too far away from home. You gave me roots and you gave me wings, and I hope I have made you proud today."

My mom was full on sobbing now, and my dad had given up on being tough and was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"And last but definitely not the least," I said, looking directly at Sam, "to my annoying, loud, patchy bearded brother who still owes me fifty dollars from last month. Thank you for being my first friend and my first rival. Thank you for always picking up my calls at three in the morning when I needed to rant my frustration. And thank you for never letting me take myself too seriously. I love you, you idiot."

Sam stood up from his seat and shouted, "I love you too, but you are the idiot not me." while everyone around him laughed and clapped.

I shook my head and finished my speech with thanking my teachers and mentors.

After the ceremony ended, we spent almost an hour taking photos outside the building. My parents wanted pictures from every possible angle, and Sam kept photobombing every single shot until my mom threatened to leave him behind.

"Sam, if you jump in front of one more photo, I swear I will donate your gaming console to charity," my mom said, fixing her saree pallu probably hundred and fifth times today.

"You would not dare," Sam replied with fake horror in his eyes.

"Try me," she said, and Sam immediately stepped aside with his hands raised in surrender.

My dad put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Leave him alone, Anjali. Let the boy have his fun. Today is a happy day."

"That is exactly why I have not killed him yet," my mom muttered, but she was smiling.

My father left for his office after bidding bye as he had taken only half day leave. Well ...that was also a perk of being middle class in Australia.

My friends joined us eventually, and we took group photos and silly photos and serious photos and crying photos.

Elli made us do a jumping shot seven times until she was satisfied with how her hair looked in the air.

Martha kept making duck faces even though we told her that trend was dead. Max photobombed his own photos by pulling weird expressions in the background. It was chaotic and loud and absolutely perfect.

By the time we said goodbye to our families, the sun had started to go down. Me, Elli, Martha, Max, and Jacob were standing in the parking lot, still wearing our gowns because none of us wanted to take them off just yet.

"So," Elli said, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears, "what are we doing tonight? Because this is our last night as students, and I refuse to spend it sitting at home watching Netflix."

"Same here," Martha nodded in agreement, adjusting her cap that kept slipping to the side. "Tomorrow we start our corporate lives like proper adults with proper jobs and proper responsibilities. Tonight we should do something stupid and memorable. Something our future bosses would be ashamed to hear about."

Max stretched his arms above his head and said, "There is a club near Circular Quay. Good music, cheap drinks, and plenty of handsome strangers to flirt with. I have been there twice before, and trust me, the place is perfect for exactly the kind of night you are describing."

Jacob winked at me and said, "Sounds like a plan. What do you say, Tara? One last hurrah before we become boring working people?"

I hesitated for a second. Clubs were not really my favorite place in the world, and the memory of last night's nightmare was still somewhere at the back of my mind. But they were right about one thing. This was our last night of freedom before real life began, and I did not want to be the one who ruined the fun for everyone.

"Fine," I said, "but do not blame me if I fall asleep on the table by eleven."

"Eleven?" Elli laughed loudly. "We are not grandmothers, Tara. We are staying out until at least two."

"Two?" I practically shouted. "My parents will send a search party for me by twelve."

Martha patted my shoulder with sympathy. "Call them and ask. What is the worst they can say? No?"

So I pulled out my phone and called my dad. He picked up on the second ring, and I could hear thy typing sound from the background.

"Dad?" I said. "My friends want to go to a club tonight. Just to celebrate. Can I please go?"

There was a pause on the other end. Then my dad said, "Put your mother on the phone."

I sighed and handed the phone to my mom, who had somehow appeared right next to me even though she was supposed to be in the car. Indian mothers had a sixth sense for these things.

"Hello? Yes, Shardul, I am listening," my mom said into the phone. She listened for a few seconds and then nodded. "Okay. Okay. I will talk to her."

She ended the call and looked at me with her serious face. "You can go. But you have to be home before ten pm. Not ten fifteen, not ten thirty. Ten means ten, Nayantara."

"Mom, ten is so early," I complained. "Everyone else is staying until two."

"I am not everyone else's mother," she said firmly. "I am your mother. Ten o'clock. Not a minute later. And no drinking anything that comes in a fancy glass with an umbrella in it."

"Mom, that is not how alcohol works."

"Do not argue with me, young lady. I have raised you for twenty two years. I know exactly how alcohol works."

I took a deep breath and decided to pick my battles. "Okay, mom. I promise. Ten o'clock."

She pulled me into a tight hug and whispered in my ear, "Go have fun, baby. You deserve it. But if any boy tries to be smart with you, you call your father immediately. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, mom."

She kissed my forehead and walked away towards the car where Sam was waiting for and he waived at me, i smiled and waved back at him.

I turned back to my friends who were all looking at me with amused expressions.

"Ten o'clock?" Max said, barely holding back his laughter. "Did she ground you for the night or what?"

"Shut up, Max," I said, but I was smiling too.

We reached the club around eight, and the place was already packed with people. The lights were low and colorful, switching between purple and blue and red in a way that made everything look dreamy.

The music was loud enough to feel in my chest, vibrating through my bones with every beat. The energy was exactly what I needed after such a long and emotional day.

We found a table in the corner near the wall, and a waitress came over to take our order.

"I will have a mojito," Elli said, flipping her hair.

"Same," Martha added.

"Whiskey sour for me," Max said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place.

"Beer," Jacob said simply.

The waitress looked at me. "And for you, miss?"

I opened my mouth to say water, but Elli kicked me under the table. "She will have a vodka with lemonade," Elli said before I could speak.

"I do not want vodka," I said after the waitress left.

"You never want anything," Elli said, pointing her finger at me. "But tonight you are going to have one drink because we are celebrating. One drink, Tara. That will not kill you."

I rarely drank alcohol. This was maybe my second or third time holding a glass in my hand, and even that was being generous. But my friends insisted, and Jacob kept making fun of me for being boring, so when the drinks arrived, I took a small sip of vodka.

It burned my throat going down, and I made a face that made everyone laugh.

"First time?" Jacob asked with a teasing smile.

"Shut up," I said, and took another sip just to prove him wrong. This time the burn was a little less intense, and after a few more sips, the burn started to feel good.

We finished our first round and ordered a second, and by then the music had pulled us onto the dance floor.

We danced like crazy people who had lost all sense of shame. Elli was moving her hips like a professional dancer, her body swaying to the beat as if the music was made for her.

Martha was laughing so hard that she could barely stand, her feet stumbling every few seconds but she did not care.

Max was doing some kind of robot move that looked ridiculous but entertaining, and every time he did it, Elli would stop dancing and just stare at him in disbelief.

"What are you doing?" Elli shouted over the music.

"Dancing," Max shouted back.

"That is not dancing. That is a crime against humanity." She cried over music.

"You wish you could move like me." He said with amusing smirk.

"I promise you, no one on this earth wishes that." She rolled her eyes at him.

Jacob stayed close to me the entire time, his hands finding my waist whenever the crowd pushed us together. I did not think much of it at first because the club was crowded and everyone was touching everyone. It was just the nature of the place.

I took flirted without thinking too much with a handsome man but when he started to become too free with me i pulled back.

"You are popular tonight," Jacob said, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him.

"I am just being nice," I said.

"Nice is not the word I would use," he said, and his hand slipped a little lower on my waist.

I moved his hand back up and said, "Jacob, behave yourself."

"I am always behaving," he said with that same teasing smile, but he did not try to move his hand down again.

It was all harmless and fun, and for a few minutes, but he started to become more daring. What had happened to him.

My head started spinning somewhere around midnight, and I realized that the vodka had hit me harder than I expected.

The lights that had looked beautiful before were now hurting my eyes. The music that had felt exciting before was now too loud and too fast and too much. My feet were aching in my heels, and my throat was dry again despite all the lemonade I had been drinking.

"I need to sit down," I said to no one in particular, but the music swallowed my words.

I tried to walk away from the dance floor, pushing through the crowd of sweaty bodies, but Jacob's hand caught my wrist and pulled me back.

"Where are you going, Tara?" he asked. His words were slightly slurred, and I could smell whiskey on his breath. He had switched from beer to something stronger after our second round.

"Home," I said, trying to pull my hand free without making a scene. "It is late. Let me go, Jacob."

He did not let go. Instead he pulled me closer, so close that our chests were almost touching, and said, "Come on baby, the night is still young. The party has just started. Do not be that person who leaves early."

"Jacob, leave my arm," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "Please. I am not asking. I am telling you."

He smirked at me like I was telling a joke, like my words meant nothing to him. His grip tightened on my wrist, and I could feel his fingers pressing into my skin hard enough to leave marks.

"Or what will you do?" he said, and there was something in his eyes that I had never seen before. "Come on your are not going to remain a virgin after college, right." There was something in his tone too, something ugly. Something that made my stomach turn.

That was the wrong thing to say.

A sudden anger flashed through my body like lightning, hot and quick and completely uncontrollable.

It started in my chest and spread outward to my arms, my legs, my face. My skin began to heat up, just like it always did when I got angry enough. Before I could think about what I was doing, before I could stop myself or consider the consequences, my right hand moved on its own and I slapped him hard across his face.

The sound echoed through the music like a gunshot.

Everything became silent and still. The DJ stopped playing, and the speakers went quiet in a way that felt louder than the music had been. People stopped dancing in the middle of their moves, frozen like statues. A waitress froze with a tray full of drinks in her hands, and a glass tipped over and fell to the floor, but no one even looked at it. Every single person in that club turned to look at me.

Jacob stood there holding his red cheek, his mouth hanging open in shock. His eyes were wide, and for a second, he looked almost scared.

Good.

Duffer. Fear me before doing these things with me.

"Did you just—" he started to say.

"I told you to let me go," I said, and my voice was calm even though my whole body was shaking with adrenaline. "I asked you nicely. I said please. You did not listen."

Someone in the crowd let out a low whistle. Someone else started clapping slowly.

I did not wait to see what would happen next. The crowd made a way for me like the ocean parting, and I stumbled out of the club without looking back.

My body temperature was rising like I had a high fever, even though I knew I was not sick.

This had happened before whenever I got too angry or too scared. My skin would heat up to the point where I needed a cold shower or I would feel like bursting into flames.

The doctors had never been able to explain it. They had run tests and done scans and given me medicines that did nothing.

I fanned my hand in front of my face and leaned against a lamppost. The metal was cool against my back, and I pressed myself into it, trying to pull some of that coolness into my overheated body.

Then I pulled out my phone and called my father.

He answered on the first ring. "Tara? Are you okay?"

"Dad, can you come pick me up please?" I said, and my voice cracked a little at the end with all the mixed up emotions i was feeling.

"I am already in the car. Send me your location. Do not move from wherever you are."

I sent him the location and waited. Fifteen minutes felt like an hour, but eventually his headlights cut through the darkness and he pulled up right in front of me.

I immediately sat in the passenger seat and closed the door with a loud thud.

My dad looked at me with concern in his eyes. "Everything okay, princess?"

"I am fine," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "It is just that he was trying to manhandle me. He would not let go of my arm. I asked him nicely, dad. I said please and everything. He still would not listen."

His jaw tightened, and I saw his hands grip the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Who was that? Which boy? Tell me his name right now. I will go inside and teach him a lesson he will never forget."

"Dad, no," I said, reaching out to pull his arm before he could open his car door and march back inside. I had seen my father angry before, and it was not a pretty sight. "I already handled it. He is not going to forget my slap anytime soon."

My dad stared at me for a few seconds. Then his grip on the steering wheel loosened, and a slow smile spread across his face. He shook his head slightly, almost like he could not believe what he was hearing, and started the car.

"That is my tigress," he muttered under his breath, but I heard him clearly.

I smiled and closed my eyes, leaning my head against the seat. The cool air from the car's AC hit my burning face, and as the speed increased and the city lights blurred outside the window, I finally felt my temperature starting to go down.