Conversations past bedtime

 BACKSTORY 

Some people don’t become important all at once—they just slowly turn into a constant.

She started off as my classmate, then my lunch partner, and somewhere along the way, the person I could sit with in complete chaos and still feel understood.

She’s a mix of things that don’t sound like they’d go together—slightly childish, deeply traditional, and secretly romantic in a way she’ll never openly admit. The kind of person who believes in love like the ones in Tamil serials, and yet, for someone who feels so much, she rarely shows it directly.

And maybe that’s why our real conversations only happen late at night—when we’re too tired to filter ourselves.

That night was one of those.

The room was a mess, we were half-asleep, and somehow, we ended up talking about all the things we had been quietly putting up with.

Not because we were okay with them.

But because we didn’t want the drama.

THE SCENE

The room was a mess.

Two bags half-open, chargers fighting for plug points, and Swara lying diagonally across the bed like she paid rent for the whole place.

I walked in with snacks. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you emotionally deteriorate.”

Swara didn’t move. “I’ve been deteriorating since 2019. This is just a new season.”

I dropped the snacks dramatically. “Fair.”

Pause.

Swara stared at the ceiling. “Meera, Do you ever feel like… you tolerated nonsense just because you didn’t want drama?”

I sat down. “Don’t attack me like that without warning.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, Swara....” I said. “I thought I was being mature. Turns out I just hate confrontation.”

Swara turned her head. “Same. I’d be uncomfortable and still be like, ‘no no it’s fine’—like who am I convincing??”

“Yourself,” I said completing her sentence. “And doing a great job, by the way.”

Swara scoffed. “Oscar-worthy performance.”

“Best Actress in ‘Ignoring Red Flags’.” I continued like I was the co-host.

We both chuckled.

“But actually,” Swara said, sitting up now, “I think I stretched too much. Like… personality became ‘adjust kar lo.’”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. At some point it stops being patience and starts being self-disrespect.”

“OUCH,” Swara clutched her chest. “Say it softer, I’m fragile.” as if the words really hurt her physically!

“You’re not fragile, you’re dramatic.” I said with a knowing smile.

“Same thing.” she shrugged.

“Not even close.” I replied in an obvious tone.

A beat.

Swara looked at me. “So what now? We suddenly become boundary-setting queens?”

I held her face for a second, steadying her. “Relax. We’re not doing a personality flip overnight.”

“Good,” Swara said. “I don’t have the energy for character development.”

“Same. We’ll just… reduce nonsense tolerance by like 10%.”

Swara considered that. “Sustainable growth. I like it.”

“And maybe,” I added, “if something feels off, we say it. Or at least… don’t sit there suffering like unpaid interns.”

Swara pointed at me. “YES. That’s exactly what it felt like. Emotional internship. No stipend.”

“Only trauma.” I seconded !

“Valuable experience though,” Swara nodded.

“For what?” I asked 

“Future bad decisions.”

We both laughed.

Then quieter—

“But seriously,” Swara said, “we’re done pretending everything’s fine, right?”

“Yeah. Done.” I nodded. 

Swara exhaled. “Okay. That sounds scary.”

“It is,” I said. “But also… less exhausting.”

She leaned back again. “Nice. Growth, but make it low effort.”

“Exactly.”

A pause.

Then Swara suddenly sat up. “Important question.”

I sighed. “What.....?.”

“Are we ordering food or continuing em

otional breakdown?”

I grabbed my phone. “Both.”

Swara grinned. “Balanced lifestyle. Proud of us.”