Shabna stepped out of the cab, her oversized sunglasses reflecting the brilliant Goa sun. She dragged her colossal suitcase, the wheels leaving trails in the sandy path. The villa loomed ahead, a charming mix of old-world architecture and modern luxury.
"A girl needs options," she justified to herself, eyeing the luggage.
Nags arrived next, balancing a laptop bag and a cup of coffee, her expression a blend of exhaustion and excitement.
"Relax, I’m just here for the Wi-Fi and coffee," she quipped, looking around for the network password.
Kalpana burst through the door, arms laden with bags of chips, cookies, and chocolate, her voice a cheerful shout.
"I brought snacks! Let’s skip dinner and just eat this!"
Padma sauntered in last, a jar of her famous pickle held aloft like a trophy.
"Fine, I brought one jar. Don’t fight over it," she announced, placing it on the coffee table with a flourish.
The four women settled into their seats, memories flowing as freely as the laughter. Shabna recounted tales of Saudi shopping adventures, her dramatic flair drawing giggles.
"Remember when Kalpana tried to bake a cake and ended up with a chocolate brick?" Padma teased, to which Kalpana feigned indignation.
"Hey, that was a masterpiece in disguise!" Kalpana retorted, throwing a cushion at Padma.
The next day, the friends donned aprons for a mock cooking contest. The kitchen buzzed with activity—spoons clanged, spices filled the air, and laughter bounced off the walls.
Shabna meticulously arranged ingredients, determined to impress with her culinary prowess. Nags, ever the multitasker, attempted to cook while answering work emails.
"If I burn this, it’s your fault," Nags warned, pointing at her phone.
What started as a friendly competition escalated into a full-blown food fight. Kalpana mischievously tossed a handful of flour at Shabna, who retaliated with a sprinkle of salt. Laughter erupted as Padma joined in, her pickle jar safe on the counter.
"You’re all cleaning this up!" Padma declared, though her laughter betrayed her lack of seriousness.
As the evening wore on, the women gathered around a bonfire, the warmth of the flames mirrored in their hearts. Shabna, gazing into the flickering light, felt a wave of nostalgia and gratitude.
"To us—still crazy, still awesome, and still hungry!" Shabna toasted, her voice carrying a hint of emotion.
"And to me, for keeping this group alive with pickles and patience," Padma added, her eyes twinkling.
"Aww, I missed this chaos. Let’s do this every year!" Kalpana suggested, her tone hopeful.
"Noted. But don’t expect me to stop working during these reunions," Nags replied, already typing a reminder on her phone.
As they packed up the next day, Shabna declared, "Next reunion in Saudi! Bring sunscreen and your appetites!"
"I’ll come, but only if you have room for my pickle jars," Padma laughed, sealing their promise to reunite and celebrate their enduring friendship.
