Stuck Voyage of 20's

(Because the most beautiful part of healing is not the ending... but the beginning you never see)

Avantika sat in front of her laptop, blinking at the screen.

> "Dear Applicant, We are delighted to inform you that your application for the Creative Fellowship at PaperSpire has been accepted…"

She reread it twice. Then once more. Her hands trembled—not from fear this time, but disbelief.

It wasn't a job. It wasn't even in the corporate space her college had pushed everyone into. It was a 6-month writing residency focused on young adult fiction and editorial development, guided by seasoned authors and publishers.

It was her dream. Or at least, the beginning of it.

She squealed and called out, "Papa!"

Dharmendra Thakur walked in, still holding his morning newspaper.

"I got it," she said breathlessly. "The creative fellowship. They selected me."

His face broke into the widest smile she had seen in weeks. "You did it, Avantika. You didn't just follow a path. You carved one."

She hugged him tight, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like a child who belonged somewhere — not because she was perfect, but because she was understood.

---

Dhruv, meanwhile, stood outside the sports complex, scrolling through his inbox. There it was.

> "Congratulations! You've been selected for the National Sports Psychology Immersion Program."

His chest filled with something quiet and powerful. Not adrenaline. Not pride. Just… contentment.

He had emailed his coach's recommendation letter at the last minute. The panel loved his proposal — a mentorship module for teen athletes dealing with pressure, identity crises, and emotional burnout.

And they wanted him to present it next month. In Delhi.

He dialed Prerna.

"Guess what?" he said, barely able to hold back a laugh.

"You got in."

"How do you always know?"

"I'm your sister. And you finally stopped holding yourself back."

---

Later that day, Avantika and Aarohi met at their favorite tea place.

"This is huge," Aarohi said. "Writing, workshops, publishing houses… It's literally you in a program."

Avantika smiled. "It's a step. A real one. And it feels right."

"You told Dhruv?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. But I want to. Not because I need his opinion, but because he should know this version of me too. The one that's not afraid anymore."

---

At the same time, Dhruv sat in his room, flipping through a small black notebook. On one page was scribbled a quote he'd written long ago:

"You don't fall apart once. You fall again and again until one day, you fall into place."

He smiled.

Then he opened WhatsApp.

> Dhruv: "I got selected for the fellowship. Delhi, next month. It's really happening."

A moment later, the double ticks turned blue.

> Avantika: "Congratulations, Dhruv. I'm proud of you. And… I got mine too. Creative Fellowship. Starts in three weeks."

He stared at her message for a second longer than necessary.

> Dhruv: "Looks like we're finally becoming who we were meant to be."

> Avantika: "And this time, not just for each other — for ourselves first."

---

Days passed in soft, golden transitions.

Avantika packed notebooks, bookmarked reading lists, and bought a new pen set — something she hadn't done with joy since high school.

Dhruv began early-morning mindfulness sessions with junior players, testing the model he planned to present in Delhi. His coach often watched from the sidelines, nodding.

---

One afternoon, they met. Not at a cafe. Not at a random college hangout.

But at the old library — the one they had once studied in side by side, back when things were simpler, messier, and still untouched by time.

"I forgot how quiet this place is," Dhruv said, running his fingers over the edge of a wooden table.

Avantika smiled. "It's the one place that never judged me for being confused."

They sat down across from each other.

For a while, they didn't speak.

Then Dhruv said, "Do you think we can still fit into each other's lives? Even with all that's changing?"

She looked at him — not with doubt, but clarity.

"I don't think we need to fit. Maybe we just grow side by side now. And if our roads cross again… they do."

He nodded.

"That's fair."

They shared a silence that wasn't awkward — just comfortable. Like old music.

As she stood up to leave, he stopped her.

"Avantika?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not saying this to fix anything. But… I'm happy for you. Genuinely. And I'll cheer for you. Whether we end up in the same chapter or not."

She looked at him for a second.

Then smiled.

"And I'll cheer for you too, Dhruv Kapoor."

---