Anjali let her friend manuever her towards the changing rooms before realizing what the fool she must have been coming off as, her expression growing tighter when she stopped and shook her head fiercely.

"I can't run away from him like this," she managed with a knit of her brows, pushing back her tossled hair before she wrung her hands with all the desperation of someone backed into a corner. "He's, he's-"

The man I'm going to marry, her mind finished for her.

As unsettling as the thought was when it rang clearly in her head, it caused her to see the idiocy in wanting to give in to the desire of running in the opposite direction from the man she would, undoubtedly, have to get to know to a much greater extent. If she ran then, and let the awkwardness between them only progress, what was to say that the next time their paths crossed (which would occur, of course, in no time seeing as they didn't have the luxury of attending seperate schools all together) it wouldn't be even more difficult to endure? He was the last person she genuinely wanted to make mindless smalltalk with, but what choice did she have in the matter?

He'd been chosen for her, hadn't he?

Turning abruptly and sending a pleading glance over her shoulder at Claire to accompany her, she stopped suddenly in her step when she saw him nearing her. Swallowing hard and gathering whatever reserve she had left over, she lifted her chin and forced a confident smile (although if anyone was to study her closely they'd catch that she was trembling furiously in keeping up the cool facade).

"Hello, Kabir. How are you?"