The warm air on the terrace shifted as footsteps echoed up the stairs. The old metal door creaked open, and three figures appeared one after the other, each balancing something in their hands plastic cups of lemonade sweating in the heat, a half-crushed box of biscuits, and a thick notebook bulging with loose pages.
Riya lit up like a lamp.
"Perfect timing," she said. "The rest of the legends have arrived."
Aarya stepped back from the low parapet wall, taking them in. She recognized all three from the creative writing class though until now, she'd only observed them from afar.
Meher walked in first, hair coiled in a messy bun with two pencils sticking out like antennas, ink smudges on her cheek as if she'd been in a fight with a pen. Behind her was Arjun, hoodie up despite the blazing summer, the drawstrings tied in a careless knot. Last came Dev, tall and quiet, his eyes scanning the terrace as if measuring every brick before he took a seat.
"Guys, this is Aarya," Riya announced with an almost ceremonial wave. "Our newest member."
"Finally," Meher said, holding out the biscuit box like it was a peace treaty. "We thought Riya made you up to make herself seem cooler."
Arjun smirked. "Welcome to The Legendary Society of People Who Are Cooler Than Everyone Else." He said the name with exaggerated drama, fingers drawing invisible quotation marks in the air.
Aarya raised an eyebrow. "You all say it like you don't believe it."
"That's because none of us do," Meher replied without missing a beat.
Riya shot her a glare. "Hey, a good society needs a good name."
"It needs a shorter name," Arjun said, tugging his hoodie sleeves over his hands.
Dev, who had already found the biggest beanbag and sunk into it like it was his personal territory, finally spoke. His voice was soft but deliberate. "Agenda?"
"Right," Riya said, flipping open a small spiral notebook and pretending to be a very serious secretary. "Idea-sharing day. Everyone brings something they're working on."
"I'm doing a satire piece about online fan clubs," Arjun said, leaning against the parapet. "Mostly about how people fight over fictional characters like they owe them rent."
Meher grinned. "I'm writing about a girl who collects abandoned shopping carts. It's weirder than it sounds, but trust me it's brilliant."
Dev cleared his throat. "I'm… working on a short horror story. About a school where the walls remember everything you say."
The others groaned in unison.
"Of course you are," Meher muttered. "You and your haunted furniture obsession."
Aarya, sipping the lemonade Riya had handed her, hesitated before speaking. "That… reminds me of something. At the library today, I saw someone burning their old drafts. Like, actually burning pages."
The group turned toward her instantly, expressions somewhere between interest and disbelief.
"You saw the burning ritual?" Riya asked, as if Aarya had just discovered an urban legend.
"The what now?"
"It's this thing some of the older writers do," Dev explained, steepling his fingers. "End of every season, they destroy anything they think isn't worth keeping."
Aarya frowned. "That's… ridiculous. And kind of wasteful. Why not recycle the paper instead? I mean, we are, after all, The Legendary Society of People Who Are Cooler Than Everyone Else."
For two seconds, silence hung over the terrace. Then the entire group burst into laughter.
"Wait," Meher gasped, nearly dropping a biscuit, "you actually said the full name?"
Arjun leaned forward, grinning. "No one uses the full name except her." He jabbed a thumb at Riya.
"Valid point though," Dev said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "We could replace the burning ritual with something else."
Riya leaned back, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "What about making something out of the bad drafts? Like… bookmarks."
"That's actually cool," Meher admitted. "And then we can doodle all over them."
"Environmentally friendly," Aarya added.
"Wow," Arjun said in mock awe. "One meeting and she's already changing our ancient traditions."
"Better than sitting quietly," Aarya replied, feeling a surprising rush of confidence.
The conversation spiraled from there arguments over whether bookmarks should be shaped like cats or swords, whether quotes should be inspirational or sarcastic, and whether glitter was an act of art or a crime against humanity. The terrace filled with overlapping voices, biscuit crumbs, and the lazy hum of the ceiling fan inside Riya's open kitchen window.
By the time the sky shifted from gold to deep orange, Aarya realized something she hadn't felt in months she wasn't thinking about what she should say. She was just saying it.
. Arjun was still arguing over whether cat-shaped bookmarks were superior to sword-shaped ones, and Meher had moved on to defending glitter with the passion of a defense lawyer in a high-stakes trial.
Aarya lingered, helping Riya stack papers and push chairs back into place. There was a lightness in her chest that felt suspiciously like… happiness. It was strange, because for months, her voice had mostly lived in her head. But today, she'd said things out loud. And people had laughed not at her, but with her.
While they were clearing the table, someone's elbow knocked against a glass, sending a splash of orange juice right down Aarya's shirt. The sticky sweetness clung instantly, making her flinch.
"Oh no sorry!" Dev said, looking genuinely guilty.
"It's fine," Aarya said quickly, though she could already feel the sugar syrup settling against her skin.
"Come on, you can change into one of mine," Riya said, already heading toward her cupboard. She handed Aarya a soft, oversized T-shirt and pointed her toward the bathroom.
Aarya glanced down and grimaced. The sleeve of her light kurti had an orange blotch that looked like a failed art project. "Uh… okay. Just for a minute."
"Well," Arjun said, stretching, "that was fun."
"Yeah," Meher agreed. "And for the record, next meeting is at my place. No excuses everyone."
Dev grinned. "We already decided. Aarya is officially part of the gang now."
When Aarya came out, the cool cotton felt like relief compared to the sticky mess from before. But the moment she stepped back onto the terrace, she realized how much later it had gotten. The plates were stacked neatly, the crumbs gone, and the chatter had quieted.
the voices that had filled the air earlier were gone.
"Everyone already left?" she asked, glancing around.
"Yeah," Riya said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "They had to catch the metro. I'll lock up here you head down."
Riya smiled as she handed Aarya her bag. "Everyone said they really enjoyed your company. We've already roped you in for the next meeting."
For a moment, Aarya just stood there, feeling oddly warm not from the borrowed t-shirt, but from the fact that someone wanted her around again.