Just because we wore matching dresses doesn't mean we are a couple

**August 17th, Friday**

There are two days I always look forward to each week: Friday and Saturday. I can spend the whole day enjoying myself. Yesterday, I made plans to binge-watch the third season of *Boku no Hero Academia*. Izuku Midoriya is an incredible character, and Aizawa-sensei has quickly climbed to the top of my list of favorite characters.

Just as I powered up my computer to dive into the series, my phone summoned me. I couldn't ignore it. It was Hasan calling. I used to have only six numbers on my phone, but after Meem's insistence, I saved four more. I answered the call, and on the other side, a feminine voice greeted me, "Hello?"

Who is she? After a moment, I realized it was Rima.

"I'm listening," I said.

"Hurry up and come to New Market."

"I can't."

"You remember today is Meem's birthday, right?"

Birthday! Oh, right! Suddenly, I recalled that yesterday, Meem had invited us all to her house for a small gathering. She hadn't mentioned it was her birthday. If I don't show up, I'll be in trouble tomorrow. So, I replied, "Okay, I'm coming."

I quickly got ready. Just as I was about to leave, my aunt approached me, surprised, "What's this? I've never seen you leave the house like this."

From her tone and expression, it was obvious she found the idea of me going out rather strange like it wasn't part of my usual routine. I replied, "Yes, I'm going out. I'll be back soon."

After leaving the house, I hailed a rickshaw. Over time, a small group had formed between Rima, Hasan, Meem, and me. We'd hang out for at least half an hour after class every day. While their conversations didn't always interest me, I didn't mind their company. In a short while, I arrived at the foot of the New Market over-bridge. There hasn't been a single time I've come here and felt at peace—so many people everywhere.

Standing near the middle of the road, I spotted Rima and Hasan. I got off the rickshaw and walked toward them. Hasan, excited to see me, asked, "How's it going, bro?"

I asked, "What are you planning to buy?"

Hasan sighed in frustration, muttering, "He always ignores my suggestions."

Though I heard his complaint, I stayed quiet. Rima chimed in, "We're buying separate gifts, and they must be different from each other."

Rima's voice carried a tone of enthusiasm as if shopping were her primary task today. Now, buying gifts wasn't exactly my forte. I might have to borrow some inspiration from anime today. So, I asked, "What are you both planning to get?"

Without missing a beat, Hasan said, "I'm getting a showpiece."

After a moment of thought, Rima added, "Since she's our CR, I'll give her a diary. What about you?"

I wanted to follow their lead and get something similar, but I replied, "Let's see what's available inside."

Hasan quickly picked out a small boat as his gift. Not bad, it looked quite nice. It would've been even better if it had a clock on it—at least then she could've used it to check the time. After that, Rima bought a lockable diary. Now it was my turn, but I still had no idea what to buy! We sat down in a shop, and Rima ordered some lassi. While they chatted away, I kept thinking. But nothing seemed to click.

Suddenly, Rima suggested, "You could buy a showpiece like Hasan."

A showpiece wouldn't be a bad gift, but I didn't think it would be of much use to Meem. So, I said, "No, let's look for something else."

Hasan immediately jumped in, "You could buy her a three-piece suit."

Rima scolded him, "How do you come up with such terrible ideas? Who gives a three-piece suit as a birthday gift to a friend?"

Turning to me, Rima said, "Let's walk around a bit more. Maybe we'll get a better idea."

I agreed, "Okay."

After a lot of walking and thinking, I suggested buying chocolates, but they both rejected the idea. It suddenly felt like choosing a gift was as complicated as committing to memory every Mathematical theorem. After finishing our lassi, we continued to walk around the mall. Out of nowhere, Rima entered a shop and pointed to a brown bracelet, saying, "You could give this."

I picked it up. It wasn't bad—it could work. But I felt it wasn't quite right for Meem. So, I told Rima, "This won't fit Meem."

Rima asked, "Why not?"

I replied, "It's too big. A smaller one would fit her better."

Rima looked at me with surprise. Maybe talking about hand sizes wasn't the best idea—she seemed to be thinking something else. But if a gift doesn't fit, the person receiving it will be disappointed. When I asked the shopkeeper, he said they didn't have a smaller size.

Hasan and Rima's silence wasn't sitting well with me. So, I suggested, "Let's check another shop."

The shopkeeper, trying to keep us from leaving, said, "We have smaller sizes but in different colors. And you won't find this product anywhere else in the market. All my items are top-quality imports from China. Take a look."

I was already annoyed with him, so I simply replied, "Alright."

As we left the shop, something in a display cabinet caught my eye. It was a silver bracelet with neatly arranged blue stones and, in the middle, a small black analog watch. The hands of the clock were golden, pointing to 4 and 8, surrounded by white dots that made it even more attractive. I examined it closely—it might fit Meem. So, I bought it.

As we walked out, I asked them, "What time is the event?"

Before Hasan could answer, Rima interrupted, "She asked us to be there by 7 p.m."

I told them to meet me at Dhanmondi 27 ten minutes before seven.

At around six in the evening, I left the house, not quite at dusk yet. The sky had turned a golden hue after a recent rain, and the muddy roads made me tread carefully as I headed to the corner to catch a rickshaw. The buses and tempos were too crowded for my liking, and CNGs always felt too cramped, like a bird trapped in a cage. Riding a rickshaw, on the other hand, was far more enjoyable.

Soon, I arrived at the meeting spot, glancing at my phone—6:38 PM. The others hadn't arrived yet. I bought a cup of tea from a nearby stall, served in a disposable paper cup. It felt good to know it was environmentally friendly. Just as I started sipping, Hasan showed up. He was wearing his favorite blue coat and pants, with a white shirt underneath. If he had added a tie and topped it off with a blue hat, he'd have looked like a full-fledged gentleman. He greeted me with a "Hello!" as he approached.

I ordered him a cup of tea as well. A couple of minutes later, Rima arrived, dressed in an elegant white outfit perfect for a party. With everyone gathered, we headed to Meem's house together.

There were quite a few people at the party, including a couple of our female classmates whom I recognized thanks to Meem's introductions. They started poking fun at our outfits, particularly because, by sheer coincidence, Meem had also worn black, just like me.

"Why are you wearing black?" I whispered to Meem.

"So that I wouldn't match with anyone else," she whispered back.

One of her school friends, Rumana, who had a darker complexion and curly hair tied up in a bun, and was wearing a bright yellow-green party dress, joked, "Are you two a couple, matching in black?"

Their teasing turned the living room into a hall of mirrors, reflecting back awkward comments. Then Farzana, one of my classmates who somewhat resembled Meem but was fuller-figured and had dyed her hair a flaxen hue, chimed in. She was wearing a blue dress made of some translucent material that reflected the room's lights. "Look at them whispering like that. It's like a real-life Romeo and Juliet. How sweet!" she said in a soft voice.

Rima, catching the teasing mood, turned to Meem and said, "You should've told me, and I would've worn black too!"

Meem's face flushed red from the teasing, and it was clear we were both struggling to handle the barrage of comments. Just as Meem leaned in to whisper something to me, Farzana interjected again, "What are you whispering about now? Can't you see we're all here?"

Their constant remarks were overwhelming, almost toxic. Meem, flustered, tried to explain, "No… I mean, we didn't plan this. It's just a coincidence."

"Coincidence? Yeah, right. You two are clearly a couple, just admit it!" Farzana teased, her tone full of mockery.

Meem shot back, "Anyone studying math should know how unlikely this coincidence is."

"You can't mix romance and math. So how long has this been going on without telling us?" Tonni, another classmate, chimed in.

Tonni had a certain air about her from the moment she arrived. Dressed in cream-colored attire, her face bore signs of meticulous preparation. Even though I didn't appreciate her attitude, I could see the effort she'd put into her appearance, but her acne scars and glasses made her look like a supporting character who aspired for the lead role.

As their teasing continued, Meem whispered to me in frustration, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"There they go again, whispering right in front of us!" Farzana said, nudging Tonni.

I stayed silent, recalling something my father once said: "Don't get worked up over unnecessary things. Conversations like this never last long. The topic will eventually shift." And yet, seeing Meem so uneasy, I finally spoke, "I wouldn't mind having a girlfriend like Meem."

The room went utterly still. Everyone seemed frozen in place, like statues, barely breathing. Even I felt embarrassed by the weight of what I'd just said. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say. But my bigger worry was whether Meem's parents overheard it. Judging by my low tone, I hoped not.

Before I could say more, a middle-aged man, likely in his forties, entered the room holding a box. His light beard and the white-and-yellow checkered shirt he wore made it clear—this was Meem's father. He carried a vanilla cake adorned with red and green frosting flowers, and the words "Happy Birthday Meem" written in yellow icing. Two candles, a 'one' and a 'nine,' were lit atop the cake. It was her nineteenth birthday, meaning she was about a year younger than me, though not quite a full year.

My role at the party was mostly to stand quietly in the corner, observing. Hasan, on the other hand, seemed to have taken up the task of documenting every moment, snapping what must've been hundreds of photos from cake cutting to the celebration. He kept calling out, "Look at the camera! Straighten up! Perfect!"

It was clear he was enjoying his self-appointed role as the photographer. Meem's parents helped her cut the cake, and I discreetly snapped a few pictures of this sweet family moment from afar.

The party wrapped up with biryani, my favorite dish. As we ate, I noticed Hasan sitting beside me, clearly in high spirits, chatting away with Rima and Meem about the birthday celebration. Meem's other friends were engaged in their own conversation when, all of a sudden, one of them announced, "Everyone, pay attention! Rumana has a real story to tell."

Rima was curious. "What's the story?"

Rumana, with a mischievous smile, began, "I heard this rumor about a magician."

"A magician? What kind of rumor?" Meem asked, intrigued.

"They say there's this magician who gave a girl a piece of paper to read, hypnotized her, and when she came to, her chain, money, and phone were all gone."

Hasan, who had been lounging back, suddenly sat up, looking amazed. "How is that even possible?"

Rima, equally shocked, exclaimed, "Seriously?"

Meem turned to me, eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you think he was really a magician?"

"Why are you asking me? Was I there?" I retorted, amused by the assumption.

Meem gave a sheepish grin. "I thought you might have some explanation."

Farzana scoffed. "What, is he a magician now, too?"

Before I could respond, Hasan chimed in, "You all don't know Sakib very well, do you? He could explain something way more complicated than magic. This? This is nothing for him."

What's he trying to do? Set me up for something? Tonni, arms crossed, remarked, "You're only praising him because you don't really know him. He barely showed up for class and even argued with the professor last week. How's someone like that going to explain anything?"

Tonni, the teacher's pet and top student in class, clearly didn't have a high opinion of me. People like her, always so diligent, were my greatest rivals. Still, my pride was on the line here, and I couldn't let this challenge go unanswered.

Turning to Meem, I said, "Give me a moment to think."

"Okay," Meem replied, though Tonni interrupted with a mocking, "What's there to think about? Do you know anything about magic?"

Meem shot her a glance. "Just wait a second."

"Ugh, fine," Tonni muttered, visibly annoyed.

Hypnosis? A piece of paper? Theft? After thinking for a bit, I noticed everyone had suddenly shifted their attention toward me, watching intently as if I were about to explain a critical exam question on calculus. I finally said, "I don't know what was written on that paper, but I can hypnotize someone in the same way."

The group gasped in unison. "Really?"

Tonni remained skeptical. "I don't believe it."

Smiling slyly, I replied, "Just wait and see."

Turning to Meem, I said, "Can you give me a piece of paper and a pen?"

Meem quickly handed me a notebook and a pen. As I started writing, everyone leaned in, curiosity piqued, eager to see what would happen next.