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Chapter 2 - CHAOS DAY!!

Sunday. 2:17 PM.

The world was quiet. Too quiet.

Inside Veer's dim-lit room, both he and Rohit sat in two godforsaken positions: Veer upside-down on the beanbag like a bat who lost all hope in gravity, and Rohit, legs up on the desk, playing some medieval siege game where trebuchets made fart sounds upon launch. Their eyes were dead. Their minds? Deader.

"Bro…" Veer mumbled, staring at the ceiling fan like it was an oracle. "Do you ever feel like… we were meant for something bigger?"

"Yeah," Rohit muttered, launching another siege fart. "Like fitting three chicken wraps in one bite."

"Deep."

"Existential."

Suddenly, Veer's phone exploded in sound. Not rang. Not buzzed. It screamed—a call from Prashant, lighting up the screen in hellish red, labeled:

"Prashant (ANGRY BIRD)"

"Shit. Shit. SHIT." Veer shot up like he'd been electrocuted.

He picked up, hand trembling. Rohit paused the fart-trebuchet.

Veer (voice cracking): "Heyyyyyy... Prashant!"

Prashant (yelling): "WHERE. THE F—ARE. YOU?!"

Veer: "Us? Us is... nearly on the way!"

Prashant: "You said you'd go with me. I'm already halfway across the damn city dressed like an imported peacock. And you FORGOT?!"

Veer: "No, no! We didn't forget! We were just… mentally preparing. Like meditation. For vibes."

Prashant (fuming): "You have THIRTY minutes. If you're not here With My SUIT, I'm unfriending you, your ancestors, and your next seven reincarnations. BYE."

Click.

A deathly silence fell.

"…So," Rohit said, "party?"

"PARTY!" Veer screamed, running in circles like a cartoon squirrel on crack. "OH GOD I FORGOT I HAVE TO LOOK PERFECT—WHERE'S MY FACE?!"

"What?"

"MY FACE! I HAVEN'T DONE SKINCARE IN 72 HOURS, I LOOK LIKE A DRIED RAISIN."

Veer flung open drawers, yanking out bottles labeled things like "Hydration Resurrection Serum" and "Glow of the Gods" and "Tear Extract of K-pop Idols."

Meanwhile, Rohit still hadn't moved. "You know, I could just wear this hoodie. They'll think I'm a misunderstood artist."

"You look like you sell illegal Bluetooth speakers outside metro stations," Veer snapped, slathering on five different creams.

"Thank you."

2:25 PM. Chaos had only just begun.

Veer: "Wait. Cherry. We were gonna take her dad's Range Rover!"

Calls Cherry.

Cherry (on speaker): "Yeah, can't come. My aunt's goat gave birth and my dad's gone full National Geographic. He's made a disaster documentary with drone shots and everything. And... Car's locked. Bye."

Click.

"…I'm gonna kill a goat," Veer whispered.

"Veer—"

"Metaphorically."

2:30 PM.

No car. No prep. No clue what they were wearing. Hair? Unwashed. Outfits? Unknown. Socks? One missing. Rohit? Vibing over punjabi song.

Rohit: "Wanna take the scooty?"

"WE CAN'T SHOW UP TO A LUXURY PARTY ON A 60CC DENTED DEATH SCOOTY, BRO!"

"True. That horn sounds like a dying frog."

Veer sprinted to his cupboard, flinging clothes around like a man trying to find Narnia.

Veer: "DO I LOOK BETTER IN BLACK OR 'MURDER MY EGO RED'? Damn jacket that makes me look like I kill people in alleyways or the one that says 'I listen to jazz but also rob banks?'"

"You're about to get sued by both fashion and physics," Rohit offered.

"Thanks."

2:55 PM.

Veer opened the window.

"Hey! AUTO!"

"Bro—no. We're not pulling up to a party full of rich kids in a AUTO."

"Then YOU figure something out!"

"Let's hijack Karan's Thar."

"He's in Manali."

"I didn't say it was a good plan."

3:00 PM.

Desperation.

They finally called a cab. ETA? 15 minutes.

Veer: "Okay okay okay—we can salvage this. We walk in late. Fashionably late. Drop a one-liner. Something iconic. Mysterious. Like… 'Sorry, we were just refueling our private jet.'"

"Or just say, 'Traffic sucked.'"

"…Yeah. Yours is more believable."

3:17 PM.

The cab finally arrived. Veer had changed clothes four times. He was now wearing a black-on-black outfit with rings and chains like he was headed to either a funeral or a music video shoot.

Rohit? exactly the same as before, just with a comb through his hair.

They climbed in. Both silent. Breathing heavy.

Veer (muttering): "We're gonna be okay. We just need to show up. Act like we're above it all. We're Sigma wolves, not sweaty wrecks."

Rohit: "I brought gum."

"…God bless you."

And as the cab roared down the lane, both sat back, mentally prepping their entrance, not knowing that the party they were late for… was about to get weirder than anything they'd prepared for.

---

3:29 PM – Inside the Cab

Veer staring out the window.

"Okay," he mumbled. "We walk in. Dead eyes. Slight smirk. Like we just blew up a yacht and didn't even blink."

Rohit, chewing gum like it was his final meal: "Right. Silent intimidation. Like, 'Yes, I eat your insecurities for breakfast.'"

Cab Driver: "You guys okay?"

Both: "No."

3:33 PM – Arriving at the Party Venue

They stepped out.

The place looked like a Netflix-funded royal wedding crossed with a private zoo.

There were string lights, smoke machines, TWO chocolate fountains, and some kid riding a goddamn mini Segway with peacock feathers.

Veer: "…Is this a party or the entry to Narnia's rich cousin's house?"

They walked in, trying their best to ooze coolness.

Then—like a missile powered by rage and betrayal—PRASHANT CAME STORMING THROUGH THE CROWD.

Prashant: "YOU—YOU—YOU DESERT GOBLINS!!"

Veer: "Hi Prashant! Happy day of socializing!"

Prashant (voice echoing across the lawn): "WHERE. IS. MY. SUIT?! I GAVE YOU MY BLACK ZARA SUIT. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BRING IT!"

Rohit: "Wait that was today?"

Prashant: "YES. I TOLD YOU. IN ALL CAPS. SEVEN TIMES. I SAID, 'DON'T FORGET THE SUIT.' WHAT PART OF THAT SOUNDED OPTIONAL?!"

Veer (whispering to Rohit): "He's gonna eat us."

Rohit: "Let him. I'm spicy."

Meanwhile, a waiter walked past them with mocktails.

Veer tried to grab one but the tray just whipped past like it sensed his broke aura.

Suddenly—Arush appears, sliding in like he was born on a red carpet.

Arush: "Sup, peasants."

Veer: "Sup, narcissist."

Arush adjusted his sunglasses indoors. Indoors. At sunset.

Arush: "You like the jacket? Italian leather. Costs more than your mom's car."

Rohit (deadpan): "We walk."

Arush: "Ah. Poverty."

He did a twirl, as if showing off.

"Riya said dress classy. So I went full mafia heir. I look like betrayal dipped in cologne."

Veer: "You smell like debt."

Arush winked and disappeared into the crowd of people taking selfies under an LED board that said #RiyaRoyal23.

Then—THE SHOCK OF THE DAY.

Cherry.

Wearing black boots, sunglasses on her head, chewing gum and holding a suspiciously large bag.

Veer: "You said you weren't coming!"

Cherry: "Auntie's goat passed out. Documentary was paused. Dad forgot to lock the gate. So I ran."

Rohit: "We almost cried over transport."

Cherry: "Skill issue."

4:00 PM – Cake Cutting Time

People gathered. A DJ screamed "MAKE SOME NOISE" even though nobody asked.

A fog machine activated. Too much. Blinded half the crowd.

The cake? A seven-tiered behemoth with edible glitter, sparklers, LED lights, and a printed photo of Riya mid-hair flip.

Riya's dad (on mic): "I have invited… your WHOLE class!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIYA! From Dad, Mom, and the Entire State Government."

Cue Veer and Rohit going pale.

Because that meant… everyone they've ever gossiped about was there.

Riya (waving like a queen): "THANK YOU DADDY FOR THE 2KG DIAMOND ON THE CAKE AND ALSO THE LUXURY SKIN CLINIC MEMBERSHIP!"

Rohit: "We're poor."

Veer: "We're invisible."

Suddenly Riya pulled Veer toward the cake with that scary sweet tone girls use before destroying your soul.

Riya: "Veer! You look so… grungy! Like a homeless K-pop villain! Come stand near the cake!"

"I—I—I'm honored," he stuttered, standing two steps too far away to avoid being tagged in stories.

As she cut the cake, the music dropped. Fog blasted again.

But a nearby waiter slipped, launching the layers of cake like a frisbee.

It hit Arush.

Directly.

Over. Whole Body

Arush: "MOTHER OF—"

Thud.

He fell. Drama level: Bollywood slow motion collapse.

Veer (grabbing Rohit): "STEP BACK."

Rohit: "WE STAY."

Veer: "WE DIE."

Cherry: "This is why I came..." filming it for blackmail.

And in the distance, the waiter who caused the cake crash bowed dramatically and whispered:

"My work here is done."

...

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