A N I K A

"Yeah, so that happened... I was mad at her, so I threw the paper on the road." I explained myself in front of Bhai and Advik, spilling every detail that went down in school. 

Except for the boyfriend drama, which was the real reason behind my paper-throwing tantrum, with poor Advik getting caught in the crossfire. Not my fault, right?

"Hmm..." Aditya hummed while analysing my marks.

"I didn't know it would hit your best friend, though," I glared at Advik, who I did expect to pass my mark sheet to Bhai, and, well, it actually happened as soon as we stepped into the cafe where he was supposed to drop me off to meet Bhai.

"Here," Aditya pointed at the paper, "you could've gained extra marks here by just writing the given information in the question paper." I sighed. Could've mentioned that earlier.

"And I did say sorry to him," I said and pointed at Advik, trying to change the immense discussion over my marks. Aditya never like the idea of me lagging behind in academics—not only me but my cousin too—and I could feel the irritation seeping through his words. His disapproval echoed in his voice, painting a vivid picture of his dissatisfaction. 

"What do you guys want to eat?" my brother asked out of the blue, getting up from his seat. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he walked away.

"Why so grumpy every time?" I mumbled to myself, shooting another glare at Advik, to which he raised an eyebrow in response.

"You promised you wouldn't tell him," I accused him, to which he nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

"I never said that," he answered calmly

"You're a bad guy, Advik," I copied his hand gesture, folding my arms on my chest and feigning disappointment.

"I'm older than you," he pointed out.

"I know."

"So don't call me by my name. It's disrespectful."

"To mai aapko patakha bolu?" I innocently asked and gave him a tight smile while pointing at his bike, which we could see parked outside the cafe through the big glass window. I hope he doesn't know what I mean.
[Then, can I call you Patakha? (firecracker)]

"Wo meri bike ka naam hai!" he said, shaking his head no. "Plus, you just can't go around calling people with these nicknames." He chimed in, a sprinkle of advice carried in his words.
[that name belongs to my bike!]

Of course, I know that. 

"So what am I supposed to call you? Uncle?" I turned my head sideways and raised my eyebrows.

"Just call me Bhai, like you address Aditya," he suggested.

"no. I have only one brother and that's Aditya Kashyap. No one can take his place." I pointed at him and said, "Not even you." I thinned my brows while he shook his head, rejecting my remarks.

"I also call him Princess, does that work for you?" I threw the question at Advik, watching as his eyes widened like a pair of startled moons. A burst of laughter broke out from him, causing a grin to spread across my face in response.

"Wait? Really?" He questioned, clearly amused. I responded with fast nods, as if I'd just spilled the juiciest secret. He laughed once more.

"You know, after that, Bhai was scolded by Dad. And he didn't reveal my name, knowing I was the one who spray painted on his car." I continued my tale while Advik folded his lips, trying not to smile at the dumb childhood stories I told back in my junior days.

Basically, I was bragging about all the rules I've broken and Aditya covering up all of them so I don't get scolded.

One thing I got to know for sure is that Advik doesn't talk a lot. He speaks up when you start the conversation, and he's more into listening than talking. He's the kind of person who might stay quiet at the first meeting, but once you crack the shell, he won't stop talking. It's like a floodgate of words waiting to burst open once you've crossed that initial barrier.

Eventually, Adverb also told me about the initial days when Bhai shifted to Pune. Advik was born and raised in Pune itself, but he chose to stay in a hostel with Bhai because of their friendship, which I idolize, not gonna lie. They both make the OG car guy/biker guy friendship due, though. 

I discovered that it was him who taught Bhai how to ride a bike. He spilled the tale of how Aditya, right after learning, jumped into an illegal bike race the very next day for a senseless dare, leading to a nasty accident, which fueled my memory of his accident.

I've held a hatred for bikes ever since that incident, but I never connected the dots that Advik's bike was the culprit behind my brother's accident. 

Aditya, with his impulsive and grumpy nature, doesn't entertain nonsense or back down from a challenge, which might explain it. The realisation dawned that blaming Adverb or his bike would be nothing short of childish.

Oh! And if you might wonder, me and Advik have agreed on his nickname. I will call him 'adverb' and he will not call me a kid anymore. Nice deal, right?

-

Almost 10 minutes had passed. I diverted my attention from the lethargic clock and shifted my gaze to my brother, stationed at the counter, deftly placing our lunch order. Yet, my eyes were drawn again to the neglected math test sheet resting untouched on the side of the table.

A deep exhale escaped my lips. Aditya Bhai hadn't even bothered to tell me why he called me here. 

My mind wandered back to the days when Mom used to do the same with me. She wouldn't talk to me properly on days when I scored less. Now, here was Bhai, not even bothering to glance at me after seeing my mark sheet. The silence hung heavy, a familiar echo of disappointment from the past, making the air feel thicker with unspoken words.

Is he disappointed in me?

"Nope. He is not disappointed in you," Advik reassured, which redirected my attention towards him. Had I accidentally spilled my thoughts aloud? 

He noticed the unsaid confusion clearly written on my face and he smiled.

"Don't worry. He is not mad at you." His view lingered, and I returned my focus to him, allowing my head to hang slightly. 

How was he so sure about that? Bhai has always been like that; he just doesn't know it.

"You know, Anika, 2 out of 10 students commit suicide every week due to academic stress and failure," Advik shared, and as my eyes met him, our eyes locked. His expression softened, continuing his thought and weaving the threads of his observation.

"Sometimes they just seem to forget that life is more than studying and academic success." A subtle smile curled on his lips, infusing warmth into the sincerity of the conversation, "Aditya, too, knows that well, and believe me, he wouldn't put stress on his own sister." and he extended a water bottle towards me.

I hesitated before extending my hand towards him. As our fingers brushed, an unexpected spark ignited in my stomach, sending a tingling sensation through my veins.

His eyes vanished into thin slits when he smiled.

I liked his smile.

-

Sad? Unhappy? Bitter? Downright bad? Yeah, it was like a mix of all those emotions swirling within me when Bhai dropped the information that he was leaving Pune next week. Dad hooked him up with an internship at his friend's company in Mumbai, and he jumped on board. 

So, he's off to Mumbai, and I'll be stuck here, navigating the jungle of double-faced humans in school all on my own.

Initially, I wasn't keen on sharing the same city with him; I was all about proving my independence. The idea of growing up excited me. But now, the reality of living in this city alone feels ridiculous to me, it feels downright absurd!

Who's going to be my shopping partner every week? Who'll be the official signer on my report cards? And most importantly, who am I going to complain to and hug when I feel left out at school? The flood of these thoughts hits me all at once, and suddenly, my eyes are inexplicably damp.

"And I've got to finish my internship. Can you believe I'll be skipping my own graduation party?" Aditya Bhai shared this with Advik. My eyes clung to the food in front of me, desperately trying to divert attention from his words.

The once-favourite dish now looks dull to me. Bhai had ordered it, knowing exactly what I'd like. 

"I'm full," I sighed, rising from my seat and grabbing both his and his best friend's attention. Aditya glanced at me briefly, responding, "Then go wash up, and I'll drop you at the hostel."

I walked to the washroom, clenching my teeth to ward off the tears threatening to escape. Not now, not now.

Returning, I found my brother settling the bill at the counter, while Advik had already left. My backpack hung from his shoulder, and I approached. "Let's go," I chimed, pretending like I just didn't have a crying session in the washroom. 

I walked out blankly and took up my space in his car. Bhai cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence.

"I saved Advik's number on your phone. You can ask him whenever you need something in my absence," he informed me, handing me my phone, which I didn't know I left on the table.

"He's not my brother, you are." I said, taking my mobile without meeting his gaze. 

"I'll come to you for everything, even if you're far away. Not him." My words were heartfelt and raw. "Don't be stubborn, Ani,"  he urged softly. I shook my head. 

"Anika, please." His voice now carried a hint of frustration. I made him angry again.

"I don't want to leave you alone here either, but you know I cannot say no to Dad... We've known that. Plus, I trust Advik the most; he's like a brother too. So, don't bother him too much, okay?" His words held a plea, and I couldn't help but nod. 

He trusts that Adverb more than me now, huh?

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