The night sky was alive.
Above the small village, fireworks burst like spilled jewels, painting the darkness with crimson and gold. The scent of jasmine and roasted peanuts drifted through the air, mixing with laughter, music, and the faint hum of summer insects. Lanterns hung from every roof beam, their warm light swaying in rhythm with the breeze.
Ten-year-old Li Wei stood near the edge of the courtyard, clutching a paper fan he'd stolen from his aunt. He was from the city, here only because his father's old friend's daughter was getting married — a friend his mother called "Uncle Han" even though they weren't related. The trip had been long, the roads dusty and winding, and Li Wei had complained the entire way.
Now, surrounded by glowing lanterns and endless chatter, he felt both out of place and strangely enchanted. Everything in the village seemed alive — the walls decorated with marigold chains, the children running barefoot under strings of lights, the laughter that never seemed to stop.
But what truly caught his attention was the dessert table.
A mountain of golden laddus shimmered under the lamps, glistening like tiny suns. The air smelled of ghee, sugar, and cardamom — sweet enough to make his head spin. His mouth watered. Carefully, he looked around, made sure no one was watching, and reached out for the biggest one.
Just then, another hand darted out — small, soft, and surprisingly firm — colliding with his.
"Hey! That's mine!" he snapped.
"No, it's mine! I saw it first!" came a sharp, musical voice.
Li Wei turned, ready to argue — and froze.
A girl stood there, about his age, her cheeks glowing in the lantern light. Her pink dress shimmered with tiny sequins that caught every flicker of firework above. Flowers were woven into her hair, the petals trembling slightly in the night breeze. When she spoke, her voice carried the same energy as the lights — bright, playful, impossible to ignore.
"I saw it first!" she said again, puffing her cheeks.
Li Wei blinked. "You already have sugar on your face. I think you've had enough."
She gasped and rubbed her cheek. "That's not sugar! It's flower dust!"
"Flower dust?" he echoed, fighting a grin.
"Yes! From the garlands!" She pointed toward the marigolds above them, where loose petals floated down like golden butterflies.
As if on cue, one petal landed on her nose. She went cross-eyed trying to see it, then sneezed — a tiny, adorable sound that made Li Wei laugh before he could stop himself.
"See? Even the flowers like me," she said proudly, pretending she hadn't just sneezed.
"Or they're trying to attack you," he teased.
Her eyes narrowed. "You city boys are always annoying."
"City boys?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"Mom said you're from the city — that means you think you're better than us village people."
Li Wei tilted his head. "Maybe not better. Just cleaner."
Her jaw dropped. "You're impossible!"
Before he could reply, a firecracker exploded nearby — a sharp pop! followed by a shower of red sparks. She flinched and grabbed his wrist on instinct.
For a moment, time dissolved.
The world shrank to the warmth of her touch — small, sticky fingers curling around his hand. He could feel her heartbeat, quick and fluttering, almost matching the rhythm of the drums in the background. Firelight danced in her eyes, turning them into tiny galaxies.
Something strange and weightless stirred inside him — a flutter like the wings of the paper butterflies hanging from the trees.
Neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with sound — laughter, music, crackling fireworks — yet somehow it felt like silence.
Then she blinked, realizing she was still holding his wrist. Her cheeks turned pink as she pulled away quickly.
"Sorry," she muttered, grabbing the laddu he'd been reaching for.
"Hey! That was mine!" Li Wei protested.
"Not anymore!" she said triumphantly and took a huge bite. Syrup dripped down her fingers, and she licked it off with mischievous satisfaction. "Mmm. Perfect."
"You're a thief!"
"You're just slow," she said with a grin that could outshine the lanterns.
"Li Wei! Come take a photo with Uncle Han's family!" his mother called.
"Lin Yue! Stop running around and come here!" came another voice.
They froze.
"Li Wei?" she asked.
"Lin Yue?" he echoed.
They stared at each other for one more heartbeat — just long enough for a stray butterfly to flutter between them, its wings catching the light. Then she smiled, soft and secretive.
"I'll remember you," she said before running off, her pink ribbons streaming behind her like twin comets.
Li Wei stood there, under the falling petals and fading fireworks, one hand sticky with syrup, the other strangely warm. He glanced at the empty space where she'd stood, feeling something he couldn't name.
It wasn't anger.It wasn't loss.It was just… fluttering.
He looked down at the single petal that had landed in his hair and chuckled.
"That girl's trouble," he muttered, but couldn't stop smiling.
And somewhere between the sweetness of sugar and the sparkle of the night sky, destiny quietly began.