All I could hear was Alex yelling, "Stop, Sana! Stop!"
But was I afraid?
No. Not at all.
I was on a mission—slightly unhinged, a lot drunk, and fully committed.
Balancing myself in that tight red frock, I struggled to climb onto a chair. One leg landed on the table and the other wobbled on the chair beneath me. I leaned forward dramatically, my champagne bottle held high like I was some drunken warrior queen.
At that moment, I felt like the queen of the freaking world.
I cleared my throat and began, "Let me raise a toast to my friend Farzeen and Andrew, who just proposed to her!"
The crowd's laughter and chatter quieted a bit.
"I'm happy for you guys. I'm so happy that…"
And just like that, I raised the whole champagne bottle and chugged it like water.
Alex was practically sprinting toward me now, but too late.
I climbed onto the table—yes, the one I had been resting my heels on earlier. Glass. Smooth. Slippery. Stupid.
But did I care?
No. I was floating on a cocktail of heartbreak and champagne.
"What was I saying?" I slurred, losing track.
People around started laughing. Some pulled out their phones.
"Andrew, how can you just do this?" I continued, dramatically clutching the bottle. "I mean, how?! So, guys, my crush from the past seven years just proposed his girl—"
And then it happened.
I moved.
I slipped.
My heels gave way.
I landed on the floor with a loud, echoing thud, butt-first.
"Oh no," I winced, "my butt hurts now…"
The crowd erupted with laughter. Phones were still recording. Alex rushed to help me up.
Now, let's rewind.
Hi. I'm Sana Achar, 24 years old, currently unemployed, and as of last night… apparently, a viral disaster.
Earlier that evening, I got a text from Dia: "I'll be late for the party. Don't wait up."
I was about to call her when the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Alex standing there, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode.
"It's already 7:30 p.m.! Do you girls even understand the traffic in Bangalore? Where is she?"
I dragged him out of the house before his rant could turn into a full lecture.
"She'll reach directly," I explained, trying to calm him down. "She's stuck somewhere."
He rolled his eyes but didn't have much of a choice. We booked a cab and left.
Andrew's party was no ordinary party.
He's my high school best friend—the guy I secretly crushed on for seven years. He's also a rising actor now, famous, charming, and way too good-looking for his own good.
We met in high school and bonded instantly. I was the overachieving nerd; he was the rebellious drama kid. I even helped him convince his parents to let him join acting school instead of law school. He trusted me with things he didn't tell anyone else.
But then… life happened. We went to different colleges. Slowly, the late-night chats turned into occasional texts, and eventually… distance crept in.
Still, deep down, I held on to something. A hope, maybe.
When we reached the party, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia. So many old faces. Laughter. Music. Flashing lights.
I was scanning the room when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
"Would you mind talking to me, Sana?" a deep voice whispered into my ear.
Andrew.
I turned, my heart doing backflips. My entire body froze. There he was—taller, sharper, more confident—but still the same guy who once said I made boring textbooks sound interesting.
I smiled nervously. "How are you? Long time no see!"
"Yeah," he grinned, "long time no see. Are you dating someone these days?"
My stomach did a weird flip.
"No, I'm not," I answered quickly.
To escape the awkwardness and hide the blush threatening to take over my face, I changed the topic.
"You've become such a great actor. I'm really proud of you. And congrats on your first Filmfare!"
His face lit up.
"Thank you so much, dear. Hearing that from you means a lot. I've wanted to hear that for a while now, especially from 'Topper Sana'," he teased.
I laughed awkwardly.
Before he could ask anything else, he continued, "So… what are you up to these days?"
Panic. Pure panic. That question hit like a truck.
Before I could cook up a dignified lie, Farzeen came up from behind, looping her arm through his.
"There you are, Andrew! I've been looking everywhere for you," she said sweetly. Then she turned to me. "Sana, my darling! How are you?"
She looked stunning, as always.
"I'm good, Farzeen," I replied, forcing a smile.
"I'm so sorry to steal him for a while," she said, winking.
"Don't worry. He's all yours," I muttered, a little too truthfully.
Just then, Alex showed up, smirking like an idiot.
"Talking to your crush, huh?" he teased.
"Shut up," I hissed. But he wouldn't stop. We ended up gossiping and catching up with a few friends.
The mic crackled.
Andrew stood on stage, holding a glass of champagne.
"Hello everyone!" he said, clearing his throat. "I just want your attention for a few minutes."
The room quieted.
"I'm really happy you all came tonight to celebrate my first Filmfare. Hopefully, there are many more to come. But I'm not here to give a winning speech tonight…"
My heart skipped a beat.
"I want to say something to someone very special."
My breath hitched.
Was this really happening?
He stepped down from the stage.
Is he walking toward me?
I could already feel the tears welling up.
He stopped.
But not in front of me.
He kneeled in front of Farzeen.
I stood there frozen.
"Farzeen," he said, "let's grow old together. Will you marry me?"
And just like that, she said yes.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Some people were crying. Others were livestreaming. Phones everywhere.
And me?
I stood there, numb. Heartbroken. Embarrassed. And confused.
Alex gripped my hand. I didn't even realize I had started crying.
I couldn't take it.
I walked straight to the bar.
And I drank.
Vodka. Whiskey. Anything they had.
Alex followed, trying to stop me.
"Sana, that's enough—"
"No," I snapped, snatching another glass. "Let me live."
"Sana, please—"
"No one asked you."
I kept drinking. Until my words started slurring and I couldn't stand straight.
Alex kept trying to pull the drinks away, but I was stubborn.
Eventually, I climbed onto the chair.
Then the table.
And… you know how that ended.
With my butt on the floor.
"Sana, wake up! You're seriously sleeping like this after all that?"
I opened my eyes groggily. My head throbbed. The room was spinning. I could hear someone laughing hysterically in the background.
I groaned. "Who's that drunk woman? Tell her to shut—"
Dia stood above me, arms crossed, holding her phone.
Then she handed it to me.
I blinked at the screen.
A video was playing.
Me. On a table.
Screaming.
Rambling.
Falling.
"Alex explained everything," Dia said, shaking her head. "I was just late by an hour and this is what you do?"
Alex appeared behind her. "You were on fire, literally. You stole the spotlight."
Dia snapped, "That video has 12 million views in one night!"
I choked. "Twelve… million?"
I reached for my phone.
Hundreds of messages. Calls. Notifications.
One missed call from Grandma.
I stared at the screen, paralyzed.
Questions began swirling in my head.
How will I ever get a job now?
What will I tell Grandma?
What will Andrew think of me?
What if Farzeen comes after me with a sword?
What if I end up on national news?
I sat there, trying to piece together my life, while Dia and Alex took turns yelling at me.
I had officially become a walking, viral scandal.
And honestly?
I wanted to disappear.