Friendship in adulthood is like a well-maintained group chat—sometimes vibrant, sometimes ignored for days, and often filled with passive-aggressive “hmm” responses. 

For Alia, Nitya, Ritanya, and Tanya, their bond had survived career shifts, breakups, bad haircuts, and even the great ‘Who Forgot to pay for the Uber and the GST of the Restaurant Bill?’ scandal of 2024. But nothing had prepared them for the true villain of adulthood: unsolicited health advice, passive-aggressive judgment, and that one friend who thinks she's superior just because she drinks celery juice and does yoga every day in the morning and eats only salads for lunch.

Life had taken them in different directions: 

Alia was a celebrated author, known for her poignant storytelling and her ability to survive solely on coffee and deadlines. 

Nitya ruled the corporate world, striking fear in the hearts of interns and board members alike. 

Ritanya ran a wildly successful bakery, proving once and for all that happiness is, in fact, edible.

Tanya? Well, Tanya had become a self-proclaimed wellness guru. 

Except Tanya wasn’t just a wellness guru. She was petite, hyper-competitive, and deeply insecure —the kind of person who thrived on disguising insults as concern, weaponizing green smoothies, and ensuring she was the most “elevated” person in the room. 

One fateful evening, they met for dinner. Tanya arrived armed with a lecture and a blender bottle.

"Guys, do you even know what you’re putting in your body?" she sighed, watching Ritanya slice into a rich chocolate lava cake. 

"Happiness," Ritanya replied, shoving a forkful into her mouth. 

Tanya gasped as if someone had just confessed to a felony. "Sugar is poison! Dairy? Inflammatory! Gluten? Worse than betrayal!" 

Alia smirked. "If betrayal tastes like chocolate, I’ll have another slice." 

But Tanya wasn’t done. She turned to Nitya. "You’re a powerhouse, but have you considered how many toxins are in corporate lunches? I mean, all those artificial seasonings? They affect brain function." 

Nitya raised an eyebrow. "So does this conversation." 

Then Tanya's gaze glinted with something darker as she turned to Alia and Ritanya. 

"I mean, I get it. Not everyone wants to be fit. Post-baby weight isn’t easy to lose, right?" 

Silence. 

Ritanya stiffened. Alia’s fingers curled around her fork. 

Tanya, pretending innocence, continued, "I understand. Some women just… accept their bodies, even if it means sluggish metabolism, lower energy levels, and, well… early signs of aging." 

Alia took a deep breath. "You know what, Tanya? I’d rather have my so-called sluggish metabolism than your exhausting personality." 

Ritanya smiled sweetly. "And I’ll take my ‘early signs of aging’ over your permanent immaturity." 

But Tanya wasn’t finished. 

She had always been jealous of Alia and Ritanya—jealous of their happiness, their more than pretty faces, their beautiful children, and their ability to enjoy a meal without a crisis of identity. Tanya, who had spent years chasing impossible standards, found their contentment unbearable. 

So, she turned her attention to Nitya. 

Over the next few weeks, Tanya worked her magic. 

"You’re different, Nitya," Tanya purred over a detox smoothie that looked suspiciously like pond scum. "You’re ambitious, independent. You don’t need to tie yourself down with the kind of… mundane life Ritanya and Alia have. You’re above that." 

Nitya frowned. "I mean, they’re happy." 

Tanya scoffed. "Are they? Or are they just pretending? Alia spends her days locked up writing, Ritanya is stuck in a bakery, and look at them—they’ve let themselves go." 

Nitya hesitated. "That’s not fair." 

Tanya leaned in. "I’m just saying, you and I? We prioritize ourselves. We don’t waste time on PTA meetings and meal planning. We focus on success. Do you want to spend your weekends discussing stretch marks and screen time limits?" 

It worked. 

Until one evening, when Nitya stumbled upon the truth. 

It happened at Tanya’s house, during a casual coffee meetup. 

Tanya, in her usual smug tone, was badmouthing every couple in their neighborhood. 

"Did you hear about Shruti’s husband? Total disaster. I told her she should’ve left him, but does anyone listen to me?" Tanya sighed dramatically. 

Nitya shifted uncomfortably. 

Then Tanya lowered her voice. "Speaking of marriages… yours must be tough, huh?" 

Nitya frowned. "What?" 

Tanya shrugged. "I mean, you did tell me about all those fights over your long work hours. I get it, Nitya. You need to focus on you. Not on a man who probably doesn’t even appreciate how hard you work." 

Nitya froze. 

The private, vulnerable moments she had shared with Tanya in confidence—the stress of juggling her high-profile career and home life, the minor disagreements—had been twisted into a spectacle for Tanya’s entertainment. 

Her mind flashed back to all the gossip Tanya had spread about other people’s relationships. 

And suddenly, Nitya saw it—Tanya had never been a friend. She had been a parasite. Feeding off insecurities, twisting confidences into weapons. 

And just like that, she was done.

A week later, Nitya texted. 

Nitya: "I miss you guys. I caved and ate pizza. Tanya made me feel like I committed a crime." 

Alia: “Come over. We have snacks."

Ritanya: "Also, I made brownies. The extra-chocolatey kind. To heal your soul." 

Nitya arrived 30 minutes later, looking relieved and slightly malnourished. 

As they sat together, eating, and laughing, she finally felt at peace. 

Alia grinned. "Friendship isn’t about judgment, competition, or dietary restrictions." 

Ritanya smirked. "It’s about accepting each other—flaws, carbs, and all." 

They clinked their glasses. 

No kale in sight. 

And no Tanya, either. 

Because somewhere, in another corner of the city, Tanya was already preparing to sink her hooks into her next vulnerable target. 

But this time, they knew better. 

And next time, they'd be ready to warn the next unsuspecting victim: 

"Run. And for the love of chocolate, never trust a woman with a blender bottle." 

.    .    .