Chapter 11: Party
Rudra's POV
I opened the door and the world stopped.
Ayansh.
Dad.
Shiv.
Aryan.
Aakash.
Ansh.
Avinash.
Ashish.
They were all standing there—faces I hadn't seen in five long years.
These were the boys who had been with me through every stupid phase of life. School corridors where we skipped classes, college rooftops where we talked about dreams we never believed in, late-night drives with music too loud and worries too small. After graduation, they scattered—different countries, different lives. Five years of silence. No calls. No reunions. Just memories I'd buried deep.
And now they were here.
In my penthouse.
In my room.
Nostalgia hit me like a freight train.
Flashbacks crashed over me in seconds:
Shiv stealing the principal's wig during assembly and running for his life.
Aryan and Aakash drunk-climbing the college gate at 3 a.m. while Ansh filmed it.
The mornings we sat on the roof skipping class, talking about nothing and everything.
The way Ashish always had the worst jokes but the best timing to make us laugh when we were falling apart.
Five years disappeared in one heartbeat.
I stood there, stunned, mouth half-open, unable to form a single word.
Then Dad's voice broke through the haze.
"Beta… Happy Birthday."
Devraj Singh Chauhan stepped forward, holding a beautiful blue velvet cake glowing with twenty-nine candles. Maya—the woman who had been part of this house since I was a child, who had quietly taken care of me when no one else did—stood behind him, smiling softly with eyes full of quiet pride.
I had completely forgotten.
Today was February 20th.
My real birthday.
Twenty-nine years old.
I'd been so lost in the war inside my head, so buried in tension and guilt, that the date hadn't even crossed my mind.
But Dad remembered.
Ayansh remembered.
Maya remembered.
They all remembered.
Ayansh's POV
I knew Rudra was breaking.
The tension in his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes, the way he had shut down after that café misunderstanding—he was carrying too much alone.
So I told a small lie.
I told everyone today was his birthday.
Even though it actually was.
Twenty-nine years old.
A reason to breathe.
A reason to pull him out of the hell inside his head, even for one night.
I called in every favor.
Tracked down the entire old gang—Shiv in London, Aryan in New York, Aakash in Dubai, Ansh in Sydney, Avinash in Singapore, Ashish in Berlin.
They dropped everything.
Flights booked in secret.
They flew in overnight.
Because Rudra needed this more than he would ever admit.
He needed to remember he wasn't alone.
He needed to laugh.
He needed to feel something other than guilt and war.
Tonight we're throwing the full party.
Music. Drinks. Chaos.
I've planned everything.
Tonight he's going to have fun whether he likes it or not.
Author's POV
Maya stepped forward with the cake.
Devraj pulled Rudra into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Happy Birthday, my dear," he said softly, voice thick with emotion.
He stepped back, gesturing to the cake.
"Cut it, beta."
Ayansh and the others immediately launched into the Happy Birthday song—off-key, loud, deliberately ridiculous. Shiv cracked on the high note. Aryan added fake opera vibrato. Ansh did dramatic air guitar. Rudra's lips twitched—then curved into a small, real smile. The first in days.
Devraj and Maya laughed openly, delighted.
Rudra cut the cake.
He offered the first piece to his father, who took it with a proud nod.
Then to Ayansh, who devoured it in one bite like a child.
Then to the rest of the gang, who cheered like they were back in the college canteen.
Devraj motioned to Maya.
"Take the cake downstairs."
Maya nodded and left quietly.
Devraj turned to Rudra, expression turning serious but warm.
"Beta, aaj ghar mein pooja hai. Mujhe pata hai tumhe party aur celebrations pasand nahi, pooja bhi shayad boring lagti hai. But mere liye maan jao, please. Dekho, itna tension hota hai business ka—mujhe bhi, tumhe bhi. Aaj thoda aaram do khud ko. Chhoti si pooja hai. Zyada log nahi aayenge, bas woh jo hamari life mein important hain. Sab taiyari ho gayi hai. Jaldi se ready hokar niche aa jao, mere bete."
Devraj squeezed Rudra's shoulder once, gave a small smile to the group, and left the room.
The door clicked shut.
Now it was just Rudra and his old friends.
The room exploded into chaos—hugs, back-slaps, teasing insults flying fast.
Rudra's POV
I didn't want any celebration.
Not today.
Not with this hollow ache still sitting in my chest.
But for Dad…
I nodded.
Just for him.
He left.
And then the gang invaded my room like bees to a flower.
We talked—loud, overlapping, laughing about old stupid things.
Shiv, the most chaotic and energetic of us all, suddenly cranked up the speaker.
"Afghan Jalebi" blasted through the room.
Maqtool jigar (ya baba)
Qatil hai nazar ik mehjabia ik noor-e-nabi rab ki rubaai ya hai tabaani…
Gardan sunarni boli ilaani
Afghan jalebi mashooq farebi ghagal hai
Tere deewana bnni wah, bhai wah bandook dikha ke kya pyar karegi chehra bhi kabhi dikhana bhai wah bhai wah!!
We danced like hell—wild, stupid, free.
For a few minutes, I forgot the war inside me.
Then—knock on the door.
Everyone froze.
I opened it.
Maya stood there, calm as always.
"Sir, Mr. Chauhan bola rahe hain jaldi karne. Pooja ka time ho raha hai."
I nodded.
She left.
With her, the entire gang spilled out—laughing, promising to continue downstairs.
They left me alone in my room to get ready.
I wasn't happy.
But I've learned this skill very early in life—how to put on a happy face when you're broken inside.
I'm experienced now.
I was on my way to the bathroom when my phone buzzed.
A notification.
I glanced at the screen.
And froze.
One word escaped my mouth, low and stunned.
"Damn…"
To be continued…
Cliffhanger Hook:
What notification just stopped Rudra in his tracks… and what does it have to do with the pooja waiting downstairs?
Author's Note 🎉💔
Hey my nostalgic gang…
The real birthday surprise, the old friends reunion, the stupid dancing to Afghan Jalebi, the small smile on Rudra's face—it was a breath of light in the darkness. But that last "Damn…" notification… oh, it's about to get messy. What do you think it said? Drop your guesses in the comments!
If this chapter gave you nostalgia feels or made you scream at the cliffhanger, smash that ⭐ VOTE, comment "GANG FOR LIFE" or "WHAT WAS THE NOTIFICATION?!", and add to library so you don't miss the pooja that changes everything.
Next part: The downstairs lights come on… and so does the storm.
Stay with me. This party is about to turn into something else entirely.
Love you all! 🌟
— Your author (still dancing to Afghan Jalebi in my head)