Chapter One – Arrival

Part 1 of 4 – The Station & The Pickup

The Guna Junction platform gleamed under the bright LED lights, cleaner than Krishna remembered. Digital boards flickered with arrival times, and a chai stall now served cold brew in mason jars.

From the sleek AC coach, krishna stepped out, his matte black duffel swinging at his side. He wore a loose ivory shirt over tailored joggers, white sneakers clean enough to blind someone under the station lights. He had the relaxed confidence of someone who’d just left Mumbai’s chaos — and wasn’t in a hurry to dive into Guna’s slower pace.

A sharp whistle cut through the crowd.

“Krish!”

There they were — Ravi in an oversized beige hoodie and designer cargo pants, holding an iced coffee in one hand and waving with the other. Beside him, Adi leaned casually against a gleaming Kia Seltos, flicking his bandana like it was part of a music video. And bouncing in her white platform sneakers, Mimi waved both arms, her pastel pink hoodie almost glowing under the lights.

Lagging a few steps behind was Ishi — crisp white oversized shirt tucked into black paperbag trousers, chunky silver rings catching the glow. Her auburn-dyed bun looked effortless, but Krishna knew she’d spent time making it “messy” in exactly the right way.

The moment Krishna reached them, Mimi closed the distance with a running hug that nearly sent his duffel sliding to the ground.

“You’re finally here,” she said into his chest. “I was starting to think you’d ditched us for Mumbai forever.”

He laughed, steadying her. “And miss this reception? Never.”

“You also didn’t bring me a gift,” she added, her pout arriving on cue.

Ravi smirked. “Your gift is him showing up. Don’t be greedy.”

Mimi ignored him and looped her arm through Krishna’s like it belonged there. Over her head, Ishi’s eyes flicked to that arm — just for a second — before she looked away, unreadable.

Adi slapped Krishna’s shoulder. “Welcome back, Brofessor. Got your playlist ready?”

Krishna raised an eyebrow. “You made me a playlist?”

“No, for me. You overthink the drive, I’ll handle the vibes.” Adi flashed a grin, the car’s key fob dangling between his fingers.

Ishi stepped forward then, giving Krishna a long look like she was scanning him for updates. “Still dramatic,” she said.

“And you’re still pretending you’re not happy to see me,” he replied.

“Maybe,” she said, walking toward the car without breaking stride.

The Seltos purred to life as they loaded up. Adi tossed his duffel into the trunk like it weighed nothing, then slid into the driver’s seat.

“Shotgun!” Mimi called — sprinting forward in platform sneakers like it was a championship race.

“Too slow,” Adi said, grinning as he claimed the seat.

Mimi whirled around. “Krish, tell him—”

“Sit next to me,” Krishna said, opening the back door.

Her pout instantly vanished, replaced by a smug smile. “Better than shotgun anyway.”

Ishi slid into the seat on Krishna’s other side, the subtle brush of her arm against his sleeve lasting just a heartbeat longer than necessary. She didn’t look at him, but the silver ring on her index finger tapped against her thigh — a quiet rhythm only he seemed to notice.

Adi pulled out of the station, bass from the upgraded sound system vibrating through the leather seats. Mimi hummed along — deliberately off-key — leaning into Krishna’s arm. Ravi handed back a second iced coffee for Krishna, still wrapped in its sleek paper sleeve.

Krishna looked around the car — at Adi’s easy grin, Ravi’s calm focus, Mimi’s bright clinginess, and Ishi’s composed stillness — and thought:

2027. New year\, same chaos. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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