Emily downed the last of her wine and leaned forward with a bitter smile. "You know what the number one cause of divorce is?"
Alicia blinked. "What?"
"Marriage."
There was a beat of silence before the table burst out laughing. But Emily didn't laugh with them. She just smirked and leaned back in her chair.
"My advice? Don't sign up unless you're ready to bleed."
Alicia shook her head, chuckling. "You're like those people who eat non-veg all their lives and then suddenly go vegan." She smirked.
Emily shrugged. "Experience speaks."
"You've done everything. Slept around, got married, got divorced, had a child, probably even faked orgasms," Alicia said. "Let the rest of us at least try."
"Yeah, try all you want," Emily muttered. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
The group laughed again, and the mood lightened.
The teasing picked back up, laughter echoing through the rooftop air, their drinks flowing long past the point of tipsy. By the time the night finally quieted down, they were all drunk, giggling messes.
But not alone.
They didn't have to worry. Jay, the bartender, had already taken care of it. He always did. He called cabs, helped them down, and made sure each of them got in safely before heading back to clean up.
******
The Next Day
Corporate Conference Room – Morning
Fluorescent lights buzzed above. Papers shuffled. The coffee had gone cold.
Shanaya sat upright at the long glass conference table, surrounded by a few grim-faced executives.
"I said I'll take care of it," she repeated, voice steady.
Her boss, an older woman with gray streaks in her short hair, looked unimpressed. "Eight defamation suits, Shanaya. In a row."
Another person across the table added, "Apologies and retractions. That's all we've been putting out. We're losing credibility."
"And readers," someone else muttered. "No one wants heavy news anymore. They want light stuff, fast and fun."
Shanaya didn't blink. "This isn't a marketing site. We're supposed to report real stories."
The older woman didn't react. She just said flatly, "One more mistake, and the site goes under. We're not recovering from another loss."
Shanaya stayed quiet for a second. Her fingers were clasped together on the table.
"This time," she said slowly, meeting her boss's eyes, "we won't lose the case. We won't."
She shut her laptop in one clean motion and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, my lawyer's waiting. Thank you."
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
******
Inside a courtroom
The courtroom was small, packed, and stuffy. The overhead fan creaked slowly above, doing little to cut the weight of heat or tension. Shanaya sat at the defendant's table, her blazer neatly pressed, jaw tight, eyes locked ahead. Next to her stood Emily, calm but firm, a file tucked under her arm.
The judge adjusted his glasses and opened the folder in front of him.
"State versus Detective.com," he read aloud, flipping a page. "Second hearing. Filed by the Honorable Home Minister."
He looked up. "What's the matter here? Someone got their ego bruised?"
A few chuckles rippled through the courtroom.
Emily stepped forward. "Your Honor, this is a straightforward case of harassment. The complainant has taken issue with a published investigation that falls well within the limits of press freedom. My client—"
"Speak faster," the judge cut her off. "We all want to finish three cases before lunch, right?" He chuckled. The courtroom followed with scattered laughter.
The judge glanced at the papers again. "What did your client write that made the minister this mad?"
The opposing lawyer stood up with a smirk. "Why wouldn't he be mad, Your Honor? My client has been portrayed as corrupt, abusive, and deceitful. With no proof. No witnesses. The website throws mud and hopes something sticks. That's not journalism. That's gossip."
Emily stepped in quickly. "All the sting operation footage, contractor statements, and signed testimonials have already been submitted to the court, Your Honor."
The judge leaned forward. "Where's the witness?"
The opposing lawyer laughed, "There is no witness, Your Honor. If there were, we would've seen them by now."
Emily's tone sharpened. "All witnesses have gone hostile. We suspect intimidation and bribery, as we've already submitted in writing. There's a clear pattern—"
There was a contractor involved, right?" he asked, looking at Emily.
"Yes, Your Honor," Emily confirmed confidently.
"No," the opposing lawyer chimed in quickly, smirking. "I mean—there was. But he resigned this week. So technically... there is none."
The judge raised a brow. "Convenient."
The opposing lawyer shrugged. "Your Honor, there is no real evidence here. This is a PR stunt. They want headlines, not justice."
Emily stepped forward, frustration bubbling under her controlled tone. "If you'd allow me time, Your Honor, I can prove—"
Emily tried again. "Your Honor, if you'd allow me the opportunity to—"
"Madam," the judge cut her off, raising a hand. "I'll speak now."
He scribbled a note in the file, then closed it with a soft thud.
"Next case."
Outside the courtroom, the sun hit hard. Shanaya and Emily walked along the edge of the footpath, heels clicking on uneven concrete, paper cups of vending machine coffee in hand.
"So... did we just lose the case?" Shanaya asked, half sarcastic, half serious.
Emily took a sip and shrugged. "Technically? No. But it's not in our favor. I'll file an appeal Monday."
Shanaya exhaled. "You know what pisses me off the most? I swear, if I were a man, the judge wouldn't have interrupted like that."
Emily gave a wry smile. "Welcome to my daily life. Men, men, men. Just look around—look how many of them are in that room."
She waved her hand, gesturing at the crowd around them. "This is all we see—on benches, in autos, on panels, courts. Hell, even peeing on the streets."
Just then, a man walking past gave them a long, obvious stare—right at their chests.
"Like that," Emily said dryly. "Always staring. Like they're owed a free show."
"In buses, at offices, on streets... You know, just men, everywhere," she added, disgusted.
She turned to Shanaya with a glint in her eye. "Okay, riddle me this—what's the difference between men and condoms?"
Shanaya raised a brow. "What?"
Emily grinned. "Condoms have evolved. They're no longer thick and insensitive."
Shanaya burst out laughing. "God, that's awful."
"That's sexist," she added between laughs.
Emily shrugged, smirking. "Two thousand years of patriarchy, babe. I'm allowed one joke."
They kept walking, still laughing.