Saturday mornings usually carried a sense of relief for Vihaan—no rush to cram books into his bag, no bell dictating the pace of his day. But this morning, standing in the garden with his hands on his hips, he felt nothing short of defeated.
The spot near the back fence had been cleared earlier in the week for his mother's plants, and now it yawned back at him like an open mouth waiting to be fed. A trellis, his father had suggested over the phone. Something simple, wooden, to let vines curl and flowers climb. His mother had smiled at the thought and promptly declared that Vihaan would build it for her this weekend.
And now here he was—staring at grass, soil, and emptiness—with absolutely no clue how one went about constructing a trellis.
He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at his phone. A rational part of him whispered that he could call Kavin. They'd exchanged numbers after the workshop, and Kavin had seemed… approachable. But calling him out of the blue? Asking for help? That felt too pointed, too revealing of the strange curiosity Vihaan had about him.
So, instead, he scrolled through his contacts. A neighbor who had once helped fix their gate? Busy. A cousin? Out of town. A classmate from science club? Laughed at the idea before politely excusing himself.
By mid-morning, Vihaan was back where he started: with an empty patch of garden and zero progress. His mother peeked out of the kitchen window, waving encouragingly, and he gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up before sighing.
Maybe he needed expert advice. Someone who thought in wood and shape rather than equations and diagrams. Someone… artistic.
That's how he found himself lingering outside the art room at school an hour later. He heard the faint scrape of brushes and the clink of jars inside before summoning the courage to knock.
"Come in," a voice called, warm and brisk.
Mrs. D'Costa looked up from the easel she was cleaning. She was in her fifties, hair pinned neatly, spectacles sliding down her nose as usual. Her eyes crinkled when she saw him. "Vihaan? What brings one of my science stars to the art block on a Saturday?"
He shifted awkwardly, clutching the strap of his bag. "I… need help with something. At home. It's not exactly academic."
Her brows lifted with amusement. "Well, that's refreshing." She folded her arms, clearly intrigued. "Go on."
"I have to build a trellis," he admitted quickly, as though the words might bite if he lingered. "For my mom's garden. I tried asking around, but—well—I don't know where to start."
Mrs. D'Costa's smile spread wide. "A trellis! How wonderful. You see, even science needs art sometimes." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You know, why not ask one of the arts club students for help? They're trained in practical design and form. In fact…" Her eyes twinkled knowingly. "Kavin's father is an architect. He's picked up more from home than he admits.You'll want someone with steady hands. He'd be the perfect candidate, He has an eye for structure."
Vihaan's pulse stuttered. Of all names, of course it had to be his. He nodded, trying not to seem obvious. "Right. Kavin."
"Good choice." Mrs. D'Costa chuckled. "He'll enjoy this more than most."
---
On his way out, Vihaan finally gave in and dialed the number he'd saved days ago. Kavin picked up on the second ring, his voice easy and bright.
"Vihaan! Hey, what's up?"
"I, uh… need help with something," Vihaan said, trying not to sound too stiff. "Building a trellis. For my mom. Mrs. D'Costa said you'd be the right person to ask."
There was a pause, then a laugh. "She did, huh? Well, she's not wrong. Okay, where do you want to meet?"
They settled on the hardware store near the main road.
---
The local hardware shop smelled of sawdust and varnish, and Vihaan instantly felt out of place. He scanned the rows of planks, nails, and paints with the bewildered look of someone dropped into a foreign country without a map.
Kavin, on the other hand, strolled confidently, tapping wooden beams, squinting at their grain. Vihaan tried to keep up while Kavin spoke to the shop owner about planks, nails, and binding wires. He moved with the casual ease of someone who'd been around these materials before, running his hand along the wood to test smoothness, tapping a plank lightly to check sturdiness.
"You really know your stuff," Vihaan muttered, slightly impressed.
Kavin shrugged. "Perks of having an architect for a dad. I've tagged along to enough sites to pick up the basics. We'll need sturdy planks for the frame, thinner ones for the lattice. Nails, hammer, varnish, sandpaper—ooh, maybe some paint if your mom wants it decorative."
"She just wants something for her plants to climb," Vihaan muttered, watching Kavin gesture like he was born for this.
"That's the point. Plants deserve style too."
Before Vihaan could reply, a cheerful voice broke in. "Kavin! Thought that was you."
A boy about their age appeared from behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, a pencil tucked behind one ear. His grin widened. "Didn't expect to see you here dragging a science kid along."
"Arjun Singh," Kavin introduced with a laugh. "His dad owns this place. We're in the arts club together. Arjun, this is Vihaan."
"Ah, the science topper," Arjun said knowingly, shaking Vihaan's hand with a firm grip. "Kavin talks about you guys sometimes. What's the project?"
"A trellis," Kavin announced proudly.
Arjun whistled. "Ambitious. But you've bought enough wood to build a second house. No way the two of you are hauling this alone. I'll give you a hand."
Vihaan blinked, slightly startled by his openness, but grateful nonetheless. Between the three of them, they managed to balance the bundles, Arjun cracking jokes the entire walk to Vihaan's house.
"Don't worry," Arjun said, hefting a bag of nails. "If this trellis collapses, I'll just blame Kavin."
"Typical," Kavin muttered, but he was grinning.
---
In the garden, Kavin rolled up his sleeves, surveying the empty patch. "Alright. First, we set the frame." He knelt, measuring the space with his hands. "Got a tape measure?"
"Of course." Vihaan pulled one out, his precision kicking in. Together they marked lengths, hammered stakes into soil, and balanced planks until a skeletal shape took form.
The work was clumsy at first—Vihaan's hammer missed more than it hit, and once he yelped when he struck his thumb. Kavin burst out laughing, and Arjun nearly dropped a plank from laughing so hard. Vihaan scowled until the absurdity caught up with him too. Soon, all three were doubled over, sawdust clinging to their hair.
"Don't worry," Kavin said between chuckles. "Every great builder's got a battle scar."
"Easy for you to say." Vihaan flexed his sore finger, secretly pleased by the shared laughter.
Hours passed in a rhythm: Arjun cutting smaller slats, Kavin fitting them, Vihaan double-checking measurements. By the time they stepped back, the trellis stood—a little crooked but sturdy, its lattice waiting for vines.
"Not bad at all," Arjun declared, dusting his hands.
"Wait," Kavin said, rummaging in the supplies. He pulled out a small can. "Varnish. It'll keep the wood from rotting in the rain."
They worked together one last time, brushing varnish over the frame. The sheen caught the fading light, sealing the effort they'd put into it.
Vihaan's mother emerged, hands clasped in delight. "Oh, it's wonderful! You boys did this together?"
"Team effort," Kavin said easily, brushing dirt from his palms.
"A very good team," she agreed, her smile warm. She disappeared inside, soon returning with lemonade and pakoras, urging them to sit and eat.
They slumped onto the steps, glasses sweating in their hands, the late afternoon sun painting everything gold.
Arjun nudged Kavin. "Not bad, architect's son. You might actually have a future in this."
"Only if Vihaan keeps the numbers straight," Kavin shot back.
Vihaan shook his head, but the corner of his mouth curved upward.
As they sipped their lemonade, the trellis stood behind them—shiny, imperfect, but strong. And for the first time, Vihaan didn't feel like he'd simply kept a promise to his mother. He felt like he'd built something that might last, with the help of people who made the work lighter.
Maybe this was what friendship felt like: messy hands, shared laughter, and the quiet ease of knowing others were willing to help without asking for anything in return.
And for now, Vihaan thought, that was enough.