Ashi hesitated, her emerald sari catching the light, her fingers tightening around her chai cup. The music pulsed through her, stirring memories of their beach day—the playful splashes, Haari's rescue, his arms around her waist—but also the sting of his departure with Aya.
Her chest suddenly felt heavy, a weight she couldn't name pressing down, her breath catching as confusion clouded her mind. What is this feeling? she thought, her hazel eyes trembling. She didn't understand—her heart raced, a shoujo ache she couldn't decipher, a storm brewing within.
She looked toward Haari and Aya, and it was as if her heart plummeted from her chest. Aya held Haari's hands with no hesitation, their fingers intertwined as they laughed, their movements synchronized, enjoying every second of the festival.
Haari didn't pull away—his smile was genuine, his blush a faint echo of their earlier encounter, and the sight shattered something inside her. She couldn't watch anymore, the joy of the dance twisting into a blade. With a shaky breath, she set her chai cup down on a nearby stall, the porcelain clinking softly, and turned away, her emerald sari trailing behind her like a fading dream.
She wandered to a quiet park nearby, the festival's rhythmic thumps fading into a distant echo, the air cooler and still. Sitting on a bench beneath a sprawling banyan tree, she hugged her arms around herself, the silver brocade of her sari glinting faintly in the dappled light.
Then, like last night on the rooftop, a tear slipped down her cheek, catching her off-guard. "Huh? But why?" she whispered, her voice breaking, her fingers brushing the wetness as more tears followed, a unraveling.
She tilted her head up, gazing at the stars, her lips quivering. "What is happening to me, Grandma?" she murmured, her voice a fragile plea, the memory of her late grandmother's gentle guidance a distant comfort. "Kichiro-san reunited with his friend after so many years—they're enjoying their time together, so why can't I enjoy it too? What is this feeling I'm having? Why can't I be happy with them?"
Her chest tightened, her breaths uneven as she clutched the edge of her sari, the emerald fabric a symbol of the effort she'd put into wearing it, into showing it off to them. "I wanted to wear this sari… I wanted to show it to them, and I did—so why am I…?" Her voice trailed off, a sob catching in her throat, her tears falling faster now, each one a piece of her heart she couldn't hold back. "Why does it hurt so much?"
The park remained silent, the festival's distant rhythm a cruel contrast to her solitude, her vulnerability laid bare beneath the banyan's sprawling branches, a shoujo soul grappling with a love she hadn't yet named.
Aya slammed down a glass of beer with a hearty "Bah!" the clink resonating through the table. "It's been so long since I enjoyed myself this much—I almost forgot this feeling long ago!" she exclaimed, her sharp eyes sparkling with a fire, her crimson sari shimmering as she leaned back, the alcohol loosening her usual restraint.
Haari, sipping a soft drink, raised an eyebrow, his steady nature tempered by the night's energy. "You're in rare form tonight, Aya. Careful—you might start dragging me into trouble again," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, his thoughts briefly drifting to Ashi's absence.
The conversation flowed, laughter punctuating the night, until a figure approached through the crowd. Ashi emerged, her face freshly washed, her jasmine-adorned hair framing a smile that seemed too bright, too forced.
She'd wiped away her tears in the park, masking the ache in her chest, and rejoined them, acting as if nothing had happened. "Sorry, I needed some air," she said softly, her voice steady but her hazel eyes avoiding Haari's gaze.
Haari noticed something unusual—a slight tremor in her hands, a faint redness around her eyes—but he let it go, attributing it to exhaustion. "Glad you're back, Nicawa-san. Feeling okay?" he asked, his tone gentle, his guilt flickering as he studied her.
Ashi nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just tired. Let's keep enjoying," she said, taking a seat, her heart a quiet storm beneath her calm facade.
Aya clapped her hands, her energy reigniting. "Perfect timing! Let's explore more—there's so much to see!" she declared, rising and leading the group into the festival's heart, her crimson sari swaying like a flame.
They wandered through the lively chaos—stalls brimming with trinkets, the air heavy with incense and fried snacks—until Rafta's sharp eyes caught something. "Photographer—and at night!" he exclaimed, pointing to a teenage boy in his early twenties standing nearby, holding a camera with a determined grip.
His average clothes—faded jeans and a simple shirt—hinted at a middle-class background, but his focus was intense, a ambition burning bright. "Man, now this is what I call the drive to do something," Rafta said, admiration in his voice.
The group approached, drawn by his passion. "Hey, can you take our photos?" Aya asked, her tone commanding yet warm.
The boy nodded eagerly. "Of course! Let's start with a group shot." He adjusted his lens, and they posed together—Haari and Aya in the center, Ashi and Oki flanking them, Rafta striking a playful pose. The flash illuminated their smiles, capturing the festival's magic.
Then Aya took charge, pulling Haari aside. "Let's do some poses!" she said, her grin mischievous. They struck a series—her leaning against him with a teasing wink, him holding her hand as she twirled, her crimson dupatta fluttering, and a playful mock-argument pose with her pointing at him, both laughing. Each click of the camera deepened Ashi's silent ache, her eyes lingering on their ease.
Oki and Rafta followed, their chemistry sparking. They posed back-to-back with mock seriousness, then Oki lifted Rafta's arm like a victory pose, her yellow sari glowing, his blue kurta a vibrant contrast, their laughter echoing.
Ashi stood aside, her fingers tracing the silver brocade, lost in thought. Aya noticed and grabbed her wrist, her grip firm. "Why are you standing there? Come, let's have some photos together!" she said, not giving Ashi a chance to protest.
They posed—Aya draping an arm around Ashi's shoulder, both smiling, then a playful twirl where Ashi's sari flared. Oki joined, and the three took shots together—Oki in the middle, Ashi and Aya on either side, their saris a stunning trio of crimson, emerald, and yellow, the flashes immortalizing their beauty.
Rafta, watching, couldn't resist a jab. "Wow, you ladies look like a pageant—too bad Haari's the only guy who can keep up!" he said, his grin teasing.
Aya's eyes narrowed, her voice turning icy. "And you're the comic relief who can't even dance straight—keep your mouth shut before I make you regret it," she shot back, with her words, silencing the group with her cold precision.
After more drinks—beer for Aya, chai for the others—the night wound down. Aya, her energy still high, offered to drive Ashi, Oki, and Rafta back to their hotel. "Let's get you all home safely," she said, her tone softening.
Haari lingered, and as the others piled into her crimson convertible, Aya turned to him. "Coming with me?" she asked, her sharp gaze holding a hint of their past.
Haari nodded, a mix of reluctance and inevitability in his eyes. "Yeah… let's go," he said, following her to the car, leaving Ashi watching from the backseat, her forced smile hiding the fresh sting in her chest as the festival lights faded behind them.
"When are you guys flying back?" Aya asked, her sharp eyes glancing at the rearview mirror.
"Tomorrow morning," Oki answered. "Our flight takes off at 9:30."
Aya nodded, her lips curving into a slight smile. "Alright. I'll drop Haari at the airport by then."
Oki gave a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking to Haari in the front seat. "Got it. Well, enjoy your night," she said, her tone teasing yet warm.
After the goodbyes, Aya and Haari returned to her sprawling mansion, the sleek architecture glowing under soft golden lights, the parking lot's high-end cars a silent testament to her success.
Inside, after a refreshing bath, they found themselves on the second-floor terrace, lounging on deck chairs Haari in white bathrobe and Aya in black bathrobe, the night sky stretching above them like a velvet canvas.
The city below hummed faintly—waves crashing, distant music lingering from the festival—while the cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine from the nearby park.
Haari leaned back, his messy black hair still damp, his gaze fixed on the moon, its silver light reflecting in his eyes. The weight of the festival—of Ashi's absence, her forced smiles, and Aya's bold presence—pressed on his chest.
"Aya… it's strange being back here with you," he said softly, his steady tinged with nostalgia. "After all these years, it feels like we're picking up where we left off, but… everything's different."
Aya turned her head toward him, her damp hair fanning out on the chair, her sharp eyes softening under the moonlight. "Different, huh? Maybe. But some things never change—like how you always overthink everything," she teased, a glint in her gaze, her confidence a bridge to their past. "Back in university, you'd brood over every game plan. Remember the PC café nights? You'd strategize while I just charged in."
Haari chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
Aya laughed, the sound echoing softly in the night. Her smile faded slightly, her voice lowering. "I missed that… after we all scattered. Hyderabad, Bihar, the army… it was lonely without the chaos."
Haari nodded, his expression turning serious. "I felt it too. Seeing you again, it brought it all back—the laughter, the dreams. But now, with Ashi, Oki, Rafta… it's a different. I don't know how but it is."
Aya sat up slightly, her bathrobe slipping off one shoulder, her gaze piercing. "Then why don't Join me instead—work with me. I've built something here, Haari. You could be part of it," she offered, her tone shifting to a challenge, her ambition laid bare.
Haari looked at her, surprised, then shook his head. "I can't, Aya. I appreciate it, but—"
"I'll pay you a thousand times more than you're earning there, and your living expenses will be on me," she interrupted, her voice firm, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of persuasion and pride. "You'd never have to worry again."
Haari turned his gaze back to the sky, the moon's light bathing his face in silver. "It's not about the money, Aya. It's just… I've become one with that place, with that company, with those people. I enjoy working there—I like being with them," he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion, his thoughts drifting to Ashi's quiet strength, Oki's laughter, Rafta's camaraderie.
Aya's expression hardened, a edge creeping in. "So you're saying you don't like having me around? You don't enjoy it when I am around?" she asked, her tone sharp, a flicker of hurt beneath her bravado.
"No—Aya, you're the best friend I could ever ask for," Haari said quickly, sitting up to face her, his eyes earnest. "You're so important to me. I'd love to have a friend like you in every life—I never want to lose you." His words carried a sincerity, a bond forged in their chaotic past.
Aya smirked, then swung her leg out, kicking his stomach. "Stop flattering me—you know I don't like that!" she said, her voice a mix of annoyance and amusement, her bathrobe fluttering.
Haari laughed, rubbing his stomach with a grin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to provoke you. But really, Aya, I mean it. No matter where I am, I'll always be your friend, and I'll never forget you," he said, his laughter softening into a warm smile.
Aya kicked him again, her smirk widening. "You did it again!"