Trip Cancelled Feelings Not Love story
Genre: Slice-of-Life | Romance | Humor | Drama | Sarcasm | Comedy
Rhea shouted at the airport, It was supposed to be an epic college reunion. Shots. Crazy stories.
But well… life, y’know?
Jobs. Weddings. Babies. Excuses.
Everyone bailed.
Except Rhea and Karan.
Exes. Yeah. Awkward much? 😬 standing at the airport with mix of emotion
“Uhh… so, you still use that same perfume?” Rhea asked as she slid into the cab at Jaipur airport.
Karan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And you still forget your charger, huh?” like always some habit never changed
She rolled her eyes. “Selective memory, okay? Totally a survival skill.”
Awkward pause.
Radio playing some random heartbreak track wasn’t helping.
They both looked out different windows—like strangers with way too much shared history.
one hour ago.
Day 1: Jaipur
The second they stepped into the hotel lobby, Rhea was already mid-war.
“What do you mean our room is gone? We had a confirmed booking, bhaiya!” she snapped at the poor receptionist, who looked like he regretted his career choices.
“M-ma’am, someone from your group cancelled over the phone—so we—uh—”
“We didn’t cancel!” Rhea shouted, slamming her sling bag on the counter. “And who gave you permission to hand it off to someone else, haan?”
Karan stepped in, tugging at her arm gently. “Okay okay, let’s not burn the hotel down just yet.”
Rhea turned to him, fuming. “He gave our room to a family of five from Indore. INDORRRRE, Karan.”
Karan leaned toward the receptionist. “Bhaiya, ek kaam karo. Jo bhi room bacha hai na, de do. But make sure she doesn’t get a mic… or a matchstick.”
Somehow, they got a room.
One room.
With one bed. Obviously.
Upstairs, Rhea tossed her bag on the bed like she was declaring war.
Karan looked at the setup and gave a slow, sarcastic clap. “Bravo! This is, uh… karma working overtime. Poetic, actually.”
“Chill, I’ll take the couch,” Rhea muttered, tying her hair up like she was ready for a wrestling match.
Later that night, after a silent dinner and ten sarcastic jabs about his scruffy beard, Karan passed out on the couch with a towel for a blanket.
Rhea lay on the bed, phone in hand, scrolling through old college group chats and pretending not to care.
“…Hey,” she suddenly said, not looking up, “I still hate how you eat dal baati churma with a spoon.”
Karan opened one eye. “And I still hate that you think mirchi bada is a personality trait.”
She gasped. “Excuse you! Mirchi bada is a lifestyle, okay? You’re just tastebud-challenged.”
They both laughed—just for a second.
But that second felt warm.
Like… almost familiar. 😊
Day 2: Jodhpur
Blue streets. Too many stairs. Zero breath.
Rhea paused mid-step, panting like a tired pug. “Why do I feel like I just climbed Mount Everest with chappals?”
Karan grinned, not even pretending to hide his amusement. “Because you did, drama queen. But with glittery chappals. Style over survival.”
As she leaned on a stone wall, hair flying in the breeze, lost in thought—Karan quietly clicked a photo.
Didn’t post it.
Didn’t even show her.
Just… saved it. Like a soft memory he wasn’t ready to share.
Later, at a tiny rooftop café overlooking the blue city…
“So, like… what now?” Rhea asked, stirring her chai like it had all the answers.
Karan shrugged. “I guess we go back. Pretend this was just… you know, two ‘friends’ traveling awkwardly. With only one bed. And one giant emotional suitcase we didn’t unpack.”
Rhea smirked. “Back to strangers, huh?”
“Yup. Strangers who know each other’s snore patterns.”
“That… sounds really sad.”
Karan exhaled. “Yeah. Sounds real too.”
There was a pause. Like time stopped to sip some chai too.
“I don’t wanna go back to… strangers,” she said softly.
Karan blinked. “W-wait, like… for real? You saying that with full brain or post-chai nostalgia?”
She chuckled, nervous now. “I mean—look, I know we were a mess before. We were like that broken swing in the park—squeaky, dramatic, and one push away from disaster. But maybe we try again? Slowly. Like… a soft reboot.”
He stared, then gave a slow grin.
“Wow. That was so cheesy. writers want their line back.”
“Shut up! I’m being vulnerable, okay?”
“Okay okay. Sorry. Go on, Rhea with trust issues.”
They both laughed.
But this time—it felt different.
Felt like something beginning. Not ending.
Final Night: Rooftop Confessions
Fairy lights. Rooftop breeze. A playlist humming soft 2000s Bollywood in the background.
And finally, the emotional unzipping began.
Karan sighed. “So, uh… I’ve kinda been dealing with anxiety. Like, full-blown ‘leave-party-early-and-blame-traffic’ levels. I kept avoiding people. Even you.”
Rhea nodded. “I get it. I’ve been in therapy. Learned to stop trying to be Florence Nightingale for emotionally unavailable men.”
“Oof. Shots fired,” he grinned.
“But also… I realized I kept confusing chaos with passion,” she said. “Thought love had to be dramatic. Crying in the rain. Chasing trains. Slapping people with bindis flying.”
Karan laughed. “Iconic. But yeah… maybe love’s not supposed to be that intense.”
“Maybe it should be… calm. Like a good playlist. Or someone who gets your chai order right.”
He smiled. “Or someone who lets you sleep on the better side of the bed—even though they secretly hate the left side.”
They laughed again.
No dramatic kiss. No violin music.
Just a quiet hand-hold. Simple. Warm. Real. ❤️
Airport Scene: Goodbye-ish
“Final call for Delhi passengers at Gate 3,” echoed the announcement. Rhea looked up from her boarding pass.
“So… back to reality?” she asked.
Karan adjusted his bag and smirked. “Yup. But maybe like… an upgraded version. With 10% more emotional maturity.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”
“One where we don’t run from feelings. Or awkward rooftop confessions. Or… gatte ki sabzi.”
She laughed. “I mean—unless it’s overly spicy. Then I run.”
“Deal,” he grinned.
A pause.
“Oh, and for the record,” he added, nudging her playfully, “your snoring sounds like a dying blender. But like… in a cute way.”
“Aw, thanks. You still drool like a toddler on a sugar high. But like… in a tolerable way.”
They laughed.
And this time—neither of them looked back.
Life Lesson:
Sometimes, the trip you didn’t plan becomes the one your heart desperately needed.
Not for the scenic reels. Not for the filter-perfect sunsets.
But for that one uncomfortable couch. That one sarcastic dig.
That one deep conversation over chai and regrets.
Because love?
It doesn’t always arrive with violins and fireworks.
Sometimes it just shows up with a thandai-induced confession, a camel ride full of awkward side-hugs, and a person who saw you at your worst—and stayed anyway.✨ Love doesn’t need a passport. Just a little courage and a lot of stupid jokes. 💛