The next day, Nikhil sat at his office desk, flipping through a renovation layout for a café project when he heard the all-too-familiar voice that always carried a casual swagger with it.

“Oye Nix! You still alive or just pretending to be an adult in this glass-box office of yours?” came Rachit’s voice as he let himself in, sunglasses on, holding a sketchpad and a take-away coffee.