By the fourth day of working together, something had shifted.
The project was still happening — poetry drafts, sketches, music pieces, photos — but now there were snacks. Inside jokes. Half-finished group memes drawn on the whiteboard. And the most important sign of any real friendship: insults with affection.
Jeel walked in late, slammed her coffee on the table, and said, “If anyone talks to me before I finish this cup, I will personally set your project on fire.”
Parth grinned without looking up from his guitar. “Good morning, Sunshine.”
She stared at him over the rim of her cup. “I’m serious.”
“Aw, I missed you too, Thunderstorm.”
Vishwa chuckled. “He’s got a point. You do come in like dramatic weather.”
Jinal, flipping through her poems, added sweetly, “She’s like a monsoon. Loud, chaotic, but somehow still romantic.”
Jeel narrowed her eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “I swear you all fear nothing.”
“I fear you,” said Shikha gently, her face innocent. “But only before coffee.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
---
That day’s session was more chaos than work. Vihan, usually the quietest of the six, surprised everyone by walking in with a box of homemade brownies.
“You baked?” Parth asked, half in disbelief.
“His sketching hand has a secret talent,” Jinal said proudly, nudging him.
“They’re not perfect,” Vihan muttered, pushing the box onto the center table.
Shikha took one bite and her eyes widened. “They’re amazing.”
Vihan turned a little pink and went back to his sketchpad.
Jeel grabbed one and took a dramatic bite. “Alright, brownie boy. You just earned your nickname.”
“Wait, we’re doing nicknames now?” Parth lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Yes!” Jeel snapped her fingers. “It’s official. Everyone gets a group nickname.”
---
They all sat in a circle on the floor, the half-eaten brownie box in the middle like a sacred object. The studio lights were soft, and someone had queued up an indie playlist in the background.
Vishwa pulled out a marker. “Alright, we write them on the whiteboard. No take-backs.”
Parth rubbed his hands. “Let’s go. First up: Vihan. Already has one. Brownie Boy.”
“I don’t love it,” Vihan said flatly.
“Which is why it’s perfect,” Jeel replied.
“Next, Jinal,” Parth said, tapping his chin. “Hmm… Quiet Storm?”
“She’s more like… Notebook Nani,” Jeel said suddenly. “She’s always giving soft advice with poetry like an old soul.”
Jinal gasped, then laughed. “That’s unfair and also accurate.”
“Notebook Nani goes on the board,” Vishwa confirmed, writing it up.
---
“Parth,” said Shikha, her voice mischievous for once, “should be Drama Singh.”
“Wow. Where did that come from?” Parth clutched his chest. “From you, Little Symphony?”
Shikha smiled sweetly. “You call yourself Rockstar every other day. It was time someone humbled you.”
“Fine, but I want something cooler.”
“How about Chatterbox Deluxe?” Jinal offered.
“Too long,” said Vihan.
“I got it,” said Vishwa. “Noise Pollution.”
Everyone erupted in laughter.
“Et tu, Nature Boy?” Parth groaned.
---
“Jeel’s next,” said Vihan, suppressing a smile.
“Oh, this will be fun,” Jinal grinned.
“Something fierce… like a superhero name,” said Shikha.
“Captain Chaos?” Parth teased.
“Debate Queen?” Vishwa tried.
Jeel smirked. “Keep going. I’m flattered.”
“How about just Ma’am?” Vihan said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“You know,” he added, “because she gives Principal Vibes.”
There was a beat of silence — and then explosive laughter.
Jeel clapped her hands. “You win. I’m keeping that one. Ma’am it is.”
---
“Shikha’s turn,” said Jinal, eyes softening. “She’s hard to nickname. She’s too nice.”
Parth put a finger on his chin. “She has strong youngest sibling energy. Like quiet… but secretly runs the group.”
“I second that,” Jeel added. “She guilt-tripped me into finishing my script draft with just one disappointed look.”
“She’s basically Silent Assassin,” said Vihan.
“Or Baby Beethoven,” Jinal giggled.
“I vote for Silent Assassin,” said Vishwa, writing it with a dramatic flourish.
Shikha blushed. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”
“Perfect. That means it’s the right one,” Jeel nodded.
---
“Alright, last one — Vishwa,” said Jeel. “Mr. Deep Quotes and Sunset Photos.”
“Nature Boy,” Parth offered.
“Too basic,” Jinal said. “He’s more mysterious than that.”
“Wanderer?” said Shikha.
“Zen Master,” Jeel tried.
“No,” Parth said, grinning. “He’s National Geographic with Feelings.”
Even Vishwa laughed at that.
“How about we settle on Photo Monk?” Jinal suggested.
Vihan nodded. “That one fits.”
And so it was.
---
THE FINAL LIST (Whiteboard Edition):
Vihan → Brownie Boy
Jinal → Notebook Nani
Parth → Noise Pollution
Jeel → Ma’am
Shikha → Silent Assassin
Vishwa → Photo Monk
They all took turns signing their nicknames under a doodled “Group 4 — Kaleidoscope” title. It looked like nonsense. But it felt like belonging.
---
As the day wound down, they didn’t go back to work. They just sat on the floor, sharing snacks and stories. Vihan drew cartoon versions of all of them with their new nicknames. Jeel ranted about a professor. Parth played guitar. Shikha sang softly when she thought no one was listening. Jinal quietly scribbled something in her notebook — a line she would later turn into a poem titled “The Day We All Got Names.”
Vishwa took a photo of them all mid-laugh, blurry and beautiful.
Later, he’d caption it:
“We don’t match. But we fit.”
And they really did.
---
End of Chapter 3 ✅
---
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Updated 13 Episodes
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments