The Girls Of December

Chapter 33

Where the Jhumka Fell, I Stayed

Aadvik's pov

I knew we needed a break the moment Mayra slammed her office door hard enough to shake the houseplants. Again.

Vihaan was living in black t-shirts, moody playlists, and nicotine. A walking storm cloud with sarcasm issues.

Aashika was quiet. Too quiet. Not the soft kind, but the holding-everything-in kind.

And me?

I was tired of watching everyone pretend they weren't slowly falling apart. So I did what any normal person with unresolved feelings and bad timing would do.

I made a plan.

"Let's go to Udaipur," I announced over breakfast, like it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't ofcourse, but convincing them was.

Mayra looked up first, her spoon frozen midair like she'd just heard me say, Let's move to the moon.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Udaipur," I repeated, very calmly, like this wasn't my mental Hail Mary. "Couple of days. Lakes. Palaces. No cell reception. What do you think?"

Aashika blinked. Then smiled - not big, not dramatic. But the kind that made my heartbeat skip a little. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," I said, sipping my coffee like I wasn't watching her reaction. "We could all use a change of air. And let's face it-Mayra's either going to murder someone or cry into her spreadsheets. And Vihaan's already halfway through his 'I hate everything' playlist."

Vihaan didn't even look up. "You're not wrong."

Mayra narrowed her eyes. "This better not be one of those 'let's heal in the mountains' kind of things. Because I'm not singing kumbaya by a lake."

"It's Udaipur, not an ashram," I said. "You can wear black and judge the tourists. It'll be fun."

Vihaan finally looked up, deadpan. "I swear if you make me share a room with anyone who does yoga at sunrise, I'm walking into the lake."

"No yoga," I promised. "Just sunsets, overpriced coffee, and me watching you all act like you're not in love with each other."

That earned me a cough from Aashika and a very obvious death glare from Mayra.

Perfect.

"I already booked the haveli," I added, casually. "So, pack light. Bring your baggage. Emotional and otherwise."

They didn't say yes.

But no one said no either.

That's how I knew we were going.

So we all agreed on leaving at 7 a.m. the other morning.

"Pack your luggage and drama all together we are going to rock this one." I shouted in excitement.

Next day, 7 a.m.

If there's one thing I've learned on this road trip, it's this:

Never - and I mean never - put Vihaan and Mayra in the backseat together.

Ten minutes in, and it already sounded like a courtroom drama back there.

"No, Vihaan, you don't fold a shawarma. That's a wrap. A wrap is folded. A shawarma is rolled," Mayra said, exasperated.

Vihaan scoffed. "It's the same thing. Just like your personality - wrapped in sarcasm and impossible to digest."

I bit back a laugh.