Manvi's POV:

Why god, Why me? I need a moment of calm right now. These luggage handlers are incredibly irresponsible, and I'm seriously considering taking legal action against them.

The airport officer interrupts my thoughts, holding up a blue bag. "Is this yours?" he asks.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "I've already told you countless times that my bag is the red trolley. If you don't find my luggage immediately, I swear I will sue your airline!" I raise my voice, feeling my anger rise.

Looking at the time, I realize I have a tight schedule ahead. It's already 10:10, and I need to be home in an hour, get ready in 30 minutes, and reach the venue in 40 minutes. There's no way I'll make it on time, even if I fly.

"Why does this always happen to me?" I mutter to myself, feeling overwhelmed. "I just can't deal with this right now. All I need is a moment to relax and maybe a beer."

The officer interrupts my thoughts, mentioning that they've found a red bag. But before I can feel relieved, I notice that my luggage is broken. I can't believe my luck.

With a scowl on my face, I look at the officer. "We can compensate for this loss," he say firmly, while I was checking if all my belongings are intact.

“no you can’t” .Taking a deep breath, I ask, "Where is the nearest washroom?"

He points me in the right direction, and I gather my things, ready to leave. But before I go, I turn back and add, "Consider yourself lucky that I have work to attend to right now, or else I would have sued your ass as well."

Carrying the weight of my broken bag, I make my way to the washroom. Once inside, I quickly change into my dress, ignoring the curious stares of a woman nearby. There's no time for anything else but getting ready.

I pack my makeup bag, gather all my belongings, and head towards the cab. As I reach the entrance, I realize that I forgot to book a cab. Frustration washes over me, and I can't help but think, "Why me, God? Why do you always test me like this?"

Desperate for a solution, I open the Uber app on my phone and enter the address. I select the option for a good-priced cab, but to my dismay, the app can't find a driver for me. I plead silently to a higher power.

Suddenly a man beside me peeks into my phone, I quickly hide it and question his identity. "Who are you?" I ask, suspicious of his intentions. He confidently responds, "I'm the cab driver," pointing to himself. Annoyed by his intrusion, I confront him about snooping through my phone. "Were you sneaking a peek?" I narrow my eyes, demanding an explanation. He shamelessly admits, "Yeah." Frustrated by the wasted time, I decided to take the easiest way out and begin negotiating the price. "I'll just go with Uber's price," I assert.

However, the cab driver insists on offering a more reasonable rate. Reluctantly, I check my phone to book an Uber, only to find that there are no available drivers nearby. Panic sets in as I realize I'm running late, and my mom will not be pleased. "Alright, let's go with your price. I don't have time to waste," I reluctantly agree.

As I prepare to carry my luggage, the driver surprises me by taking it and placing it in the cab. A sudden thought crosses my mind - what if he's a serial killer? But I quickly dismiss it, reminding myself that I can handle him if need be. After all, it's better to take a risk than face my mom's wrath.

As the cab pulls away, the bright sunlight hits my face, momentarily distracting me from my worries. Why am I even thinking about all this? Must be the jetlag, I conclude. The driver breaks the silence, informing me that we'll reach our destination in half an hour.

Seizing the opportunity, I retrieve my makeup bag and comb from my purse, determined to fix my frizzy hair. I catch the cab driver glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "In a hurry?" he asks. "Yes," I reply, "it's my father's retirement party." He seems surprised, commenting that the venue is usually reserved for grander occasions. I explain that my father has a large circle of friends and family.

With relief, I finish detangling my hair and proceed to braid it, using the mirror placed between my thighs as my makeshift styling station. As I focus on my hair, I can't help but wonder about the cab driver's intentions. Is he just making conversation or is there something more to his curiosity?

As we continue our journey, the driver starts sharing stories about his own family and their struggles.

"Excuse me, may I ask where you're from?"

"I'm from California, America."

"Are you there for work or education?"

"I'm there for work."

"Oh, in the software field?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"My son is interested in going there, madam. Is it worth it?"

"Well, we do get paid more than here."

"What about the education? Is it worth it?"

"If you have money, it is. Otherwise, it's not worth much."

"Why is that, madam?"

"If you have money, it's good because you don't have to worry about the high cost of living. Your money will disappear quickly here and then you will become poor in no time"

"My son believes it has more value there than here."

"Not anymore. Nowadays, everyone is doing it. Most employees are Indians and the employers are also Indians. It's like a slave system, but with a good salary. No sense of family."

As I finish touching up my face, my phone starts ringing. I frantically search for it in my messy bag. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I find it. It's my mom calling. I take a deep breath and answer the call.

"Where are you?" she asks calmly, her voice sweeter than sugar. This is a surprise.

"Why are you being so sweet?”  Because I have diabetes for these sweet people.

"Well, everyone else has arrived except for you."

Then it dawns on me that there are people around her, which explains her sweet and loving demeanor. It was just honeyed voice

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the cab, on my way."

"Okay, bye. Stay safe then." I hang up and roll my eyes.

I put on my bangles and I'm all ready. I relax myself and look out the car window.

Everything has changed now. It's only been two years, but it feels like I've never been here before.

Once it used to be my sanctuary, but now it feels like a foreign land with a faint sense of familiarity. After the things I've done in America, I feel it's best to stay here for a while before dropping the bombshell. I can only hope for the best when it comes to their reaction.

"We've arrived, madam," the cab driver announces as he parks the car by the side of the road. Surprisingly, we arrived earlier than expected. The place is much larger than I had imagined. I retrieve the money from my purse and hand it to him. Grabbing my luggage, I place it outside.

Just as he's about to drive away, I tap on the window. "Your son just wants to escape and have fun in a place where you can't be. If he wants to leave, tell him to take a loan and pay the money himself. Don't pay for him because he's just acting spoiled."

I understand why his son is resorting to such tactics. I've done the same thing before. It's a common trick used by children when they crave freedom. I give him a reassuring smile and head towards the venue. The location is absolutely stunning. Only one person could have chosen it.Her.

I grab my broken bag and enter the place. My mother's eyes widen as she rushes towards me, pulling me aside.

Instead of embracing me, she asks, "Why did you bring this broken bag to the party?" Her tone is filled with disappointment. After two years of not seeing each other, that's all she has to say. She looks disgusted. This woman is the cruelest person I've ever encountered. Yet, I still have to love her because she's the reason I exist.

"Okay, take these car keys and put the luggage in the trunk. Make a grand entrance. Greet everyone with a smile," she instructs, giving me a bright smile in return. I respond with a quirky smile, causing her to roll her eyes. She hands me the keys and leaves the place. "Hurry," she mouths, putting on a fake smile before departing.

As I make eye contact with Mansi, her she signals me to hurry, just like her mother. I quickly carry the luggage back to the parking lot and open the trunk of our trusty old car. Placing the bags inside, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window before I'm about to leave.

Right now, I'm unsure of how to tell them the truth. I think I'll take some time to settle down and gather my thoughts before proceeding. Taking deep breaths, I try to calm myself and prepare for what lies ahead.

Wow, what a great beginning in my homeland!