Stuck Voyage of 20's

"Business Carnival 2025" — the banner stretched proudly across the Ujjain university campus gate. Avantika had always loved this time of year: the buzz of event planning, the air filled with caffeine and competition, and the smell of samosas mixed with ambition.

She was the Student Co-ordinator this year — of course she was. Managing events, guiding juniors, rehearsing emcee lines — all part of her planner-filled existence.

What she didn't plan?

Dhruv walking into her college gate in a black T-shirt, dragging a duffel bag and grinning like he owned the campus.

---

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she asked, blinking hard.

He casually handed her a folded letter.

> "Intercollegiate Personality Challenge – Special Guest Invitee (National Athlete Category)"

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

"Oh come on, be nice. You're the one who told me to get involved in other stuff besides basketball."

"I didn't mean in my campus," she hissed, but a smile threatened her lips.

---

Twist #1: The Unexpected Pairing

Later that afternoon, Avantika stood backstage with a clipboard when the event head rushed toward her.

"We have a last-minute dropout in the 'Business Improv Challenge.' It's a duo event. You'll have to fill in."

"I can't just—"

"Rules say the other partner must be from a different college. And guess what? Dhruv is free."

She froze.

"No."

"You want to keep the event running or not?"

Five minutes later, she stood beside Dhruv on stage.

> The challenge: Create a fake product and pitch it in five minutes.

Their product idea?

"Mood-Matching Tea Bags — brews based on your emotions. Cry, sip, repeat."

Their pitch was hilarious, chaotic, and had the whole auditorium in splits.

Dhruv improvised lines like:

> "Sad after ghosting your crush? Try our 'Guilt Green Tea' — it's bitter, just like you."

Avantika followed with:

> "And for all the parents who wanted a son but got a daughter with dreams — here's our 'Masala Misogyny Detox Blend'."

They won.

Not just applause — but something heavier.

The realization that they worked together.

---

Twist #2: The Tiny Jealous Spark

That evening, during the fest concert, Avantika was standing with her group when Dhruv joined a bunch of students from another college — including a girl named Tanvi, a vibrant, confident B.A. Lit major.

Tanvi laughed loudly at something Dhruv said and playfully punched his arm.

Avantika's chest tightened in a way she hadn't felt before. She told herself it was ridiculous — but the heat in her cheeks didn't listen.

"You okay?" her friend asked.

She nodded. "Totally."

But when she turned again and saw Dhruv looking at her — almost like he felt what she was thinking — she quickly looked away.

---

Twist #3: The Power Cut and the Almost Moment

The night was winding down. Music blaring. Lights dimmed. Crowd dancing.

Then — suddenly — the lights cut out. A blackout.

Screams. Laughter. Torchlights on phones turned on. Someone shouted, "Romantic horror vibes incoming!"

In the darkness, Avantika felt someone gently brush her arm.

"Hey. You okay?" Dhruv's voice. Quiet. Familiar.

She turned toward the sound. "Fine. Just not a fan of ghosts or girls named Tanvi."

He laughed. "Jealous?"

"Shut up."

Silence for a beat.

Then she heard him step a little closer.

"You were incredible today," he said.

"So were you."

Their hands brushed. Neither moved them away.

But just before anything more could happen, the lights returned — bright and blinding — and the moment vanished into noise.

---

That night, as she stood by her college gate watching the crowd fade, Dhruv walked up beside her.

"No lights, no mics, no improv games. Just me and you now."

She didn't say anything. Just looked at him.

He gently held out a lemon tea bag.

She raised an eyebrow.

"It's Mood-Matching. For when you can't decide if you want to punch me or kiss me."

She snorted, snatched it from him, and turned to leave — but not before he caught her wrist.

"Avantika," he said seriously, "we're getting really good at pretending we're not falling."

She met his gaze — steady, unreadable — and whispered, "Then maybe we should stop pretending."