through thick and thin

Chapter 20

The sun had already begun its lazy climb when the villa finally started showing flickers of life.

However, mornings in the Shrivastava household were never anything less than chaotic.

The day kicked off with a piercing scream from Aaira, followed by thudding footsteps as Aarav bolted through the hallway like his life depended on it.

"Mummaaaaaaaa! I swear I’m going to make Aarav regret this for the rest of his life!" Aaira shouted, chasing him with the fury of a wronged goddess, her messy hair flying behind her.

“She’s being so overdramatic, Mummy! I didn’t commit any sin to deserve this violent persecution!” Aarav yelled, diving behind Shrishti, using her as a human shield just in time to dodge a flying pillow.

Shrishti, all too familiar with her children’s morning antics, blinked sleepily at them. She stared for a solid three seconds, internally debating whether she had the energy to even ask.

Meanwhile, Aaryan was half-asleep, slouched deep into the living room sofa with a mug of black coffee resting precariously on his thigh. His eyes were barely open, head tilted back as though he was reconsidering his life choices. Rudra sat across from him at the dining table, flipping through an old newspaper he found in the villa’s magazine rack.

“What exactly happened?” Shrishti finally asked with a sigh.

“Finally,” Aaryan and Rudra muttered in unison, almost relieved that she had volunteered.

It was an unspoken agreement in the Shrivastava house: Aaryan and Rudra did not meddle in the twins’ fights. They’d made that mistake once. The emotional trauma—and the glitter—still haunted them.

“Aarav ruined my precious sleep by screaming in my ears like a banshee, and then replaced my toothpaste with shampoo,” Aaira declared, arms crossed, her voice trying very hard to stay calm even though her face said otherwise.

“I was just trying to wake her up and teach her a valuable lesson in observational skills,” Aarav defended, conveniently choosing not to meet the death glare Aaira was throwing his way.

Shrishti took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, listen—no one’s committing murder before breakfast. That’s my rule.”
“But after breakfast?” Aarav asked with mock-innocence, peeking from behind her shoulder.

“Aarav,” she warned.

“Copy that. No homicide till paratha,” he muttered, stepping away from Aaira—just enough to stay in her peripheral vision.

Rudra folded his newspaper. “We’re in Goa. Go brush. Go bathe. Go wear sunscreen. Then we go outside. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Commander,” Aaryan saluted dramatically, still half-asleep, and slowly shuffled toward his room, muttering something about regretting not bringing noise-cancelling headphones.

Twenty minutes later, the Shrivastavas were finally semi-ready to head out, decked in light, breezy clothes and flip-flops, with Shrishti doing a last check for sunscreen, hats, and water bottles like a drill sergeant before a mission.

But just as they were about to leave, Aaira let out a dramatic gasp from the door. “Wait! My flip-flops are missing!”

Rudra paused mid-stride. “Check the bathroom.”

“Checked.”
“The balcony?”

“Checked. Even checked the fridge for some reason.”

Aarav tried to suppress a smile. “Maybe Goa’s ghosts stole them.”

“You're laughing?” Aaira narrowed her eyes.
“You did it.”

“Me? I’ve been—okay yeah, fine, I may have hidden them in the laundry basket as a joke yesterday but they weren’t there this morning!”