At evening.
The car speed down the winding coastal road, the engine purring softly as Aya expertly navigated the curves. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
Aya glanced at him briefly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You look like you're in a movie or something," she teased, her voice light and playful.
Haari raised an eyebrow, turning to her. "What, like some brooding protagonist?"
"Exactly," Aya said, laughing. "All you need is some dramatic music in the background."
Haari rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You're such a dork."
They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the wind and the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Eventually, Aya turned off the main road, guiding the car onto a narrow, hidden path that led up a hill. The road was rough, but Aya handled it with ease, her hands steady on the wheel.
"Where are we going?" Haari asked, glancing around at the unfamiliar surroundings.
"You'll see," Aya replied, her tone mysterious.
After a few minutes, they reached the top of the hill. Aya parked the car and stepped out, gesturing for Haari to follow. He got out, stretching his legs as he looked around. The view took his breath away.
They were at a hidden viewpoint that overlooked the entire coastline. The ocean stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering under the golden hues of the setting sun.
The sky was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple, blending seamlessly with the horizon.
The cool breeze carried the faint scent of salt and seaweed, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below filled the air.
Haari leaned against the railing, his eyes wide as he took in the view. "…This place is nice," he said, his voice soft.
Aya sat on the hood of her car, popping open a bottle of soda. She took a sip before replying, "Told you. This is where I come when I want to be alone."
Haari glanced at her, a hint of surprise in his expression. "You? Alone? That doesn't seem like you."
Aya smirked but didn't reply immediately. Instead, she looked out at the ocean, her expression softening. The playful glint in her eyes faded, replaced by something more contemplative. "...Sometimes, it's nice to be alone with your thoughts," she said quietly.
Haari studied her for a moment, noticing the way her fingers tightened around the soda bottle. He didn't press her, though. Instead, he turned back to the view, letting the comfortable silence settle between them.
"You know," he said after a beat, "I still can't wrap my head around it. You actually got everything we talked about back then. The cars, the house, the trips…"
Aya exhaled through her nose, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. "Yeah. I did. But it's weird, right? Back then, it felt like we were just joking around. I never thought I'd actually pull it off."
Haari turned back to the view, his arms folded across his chest. "And yet, here you are." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "You should be proud of yourself."
Aya blinked, turning to look at him. "Whoa, another rare compliment from Haari? What's gotten into you today?"
He rolled his eyes. "Forget it."
Aya sighed, leaning back on her hands. "It's funny, you know? Back then, I thought that once I had all of this, I'd feel… I don't know, complete? Like, I'd finally be satisfied. But now that I'm here, it just feels…"
"Lonely?" Haari finished for her.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she traced the rim of her soda bottle with her thumb, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a small, breathy laugh. "Maybe."
A comfortable silence stretched between them, the kind that didn't demand to be filled. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the trees and making the car creak ever so slightly.
"Aya," Haari started, his voice softer than before. "You're not alone. You still have us. Even if we're all scattered now… we were part of each other's lives. That doesn't just go away.".
Aya slapped her cheeks lightly, her sharp eyes snapping out of the melancholy. "Enough with the sad talk—now let's go," she said, her tone brisk, a queen ready to shift the mood.
"Go where?" Haari asked, blinking, his messy black hair still tousled from sleep, a faint curiosity in his voice as he stood near the railing, the city skyline shimmering behind him.
"Just sit inside," Aya replied, already striding toward her car with a confident swagger. Haari followed, a mix of confusion and resignation on his face, his steady nature adapting to her whirlwind energy.
Back at Aya's house after a short drive, Haari stepped out, his brow furrowing. "Huh? Why did we come back so early?" he asked, glancing at the mansion's opulent facade—the gleaming cars in the parking lot, the manicured park glowing in the sun light.
"Go and get ready—you'll find a new pair of clothes. Change into them," Aya instructed, her voice firm as she headed toward her room, leaving no room for argument.
"What—but why?" Haari started, but Aya had already disappeared.
Inside, he found a neatly folded set of clothes on the bed. As he unfolded them, his eyes widened slightly. "Wait, they are—" A white kurta pajama, crisp and elegant, the fabric soft and traditional, its subtle embroidery catching the light.
Moments later, Haari emerged in the lobby, the kurta fitting him perfectly, the white fabric contrasting with his dark hair, giving him a quiet, regal air. Just what is she planning with these clothes? he thought, a flicker of unease in his chest.
Then Aya stepped out of her room, and Haari's breath caught, his eyes widening as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. She wore a Banarasi silk sari in a rich crimson hue, the golden zari work shimmering like molten sunlight, the fabric draping her frame with effortless grace.
Her damp hair was now styled in loose waves, cascading over her shoulder, and her confident stride was a queen's parade. She approached him, her dupatta fluttering as she swung it playfully in the air. "How do I look?" she asked, her sharp eyes glinting with mischief.
"You look good, but… wait, they are—but why?" Haari stammered, his mind racing, the sight of her stirring memories of their university days.
"How do I look?" Aya repeated, twirling slightly, the sari's sheen catching the light.
"You look good, but where are we going?" Haari asked, his curiosity deepening, his blush lingering.
"You'll see when we get there," Aya replied with a smirk, pulling out a new car—a sleek convertible in a deep crimson that matched her sari perfectly. Haari climbed in, the evening breeze ruffling his kurta as they drove off, the city of Goa unfolding around them.
After a short drive, they arrived at a bustling festival ground, the air thick with the scent of jalebis frying, incense wafting, and the chatter of a lively crowd. Colorful stalls lined the pathways, draped in marigold garlands, their sweets and trinkets glittering under the sun.
The place pulsed with energy—children laughing, vendors calling out, and the rhythmic beat of dhol drums in the distance, a vibrant celebration unfolding. Haari stepped out, his eyes wide, taking in the new festival sight, the crowd a sea of traditional attire—men in kurtas, women in saris, their colors a kaleidoscope of joy.
As they wove through the crowd, Haari stepped back to avoid a child darting past, only to bump into someone. "Sorry," he said quickly, turning around—his breath catching in his throat, his mouth ajar, a shonen blush spreading across his face.
" Nicawa-san" She stood before him, breathtaking in a Banarasi silk sari of a deep emerald green, the richest hue in the crowd, its intricate silver brocade shimmering like starlight.
The sari hugged her frame elegantly, the texture smooth and luxurious, accentuating her natural grace, her long dark hair cascading in soft waves, a few strands adorned with jasmine flowers. Her hazel eyes met his, and for a moment, the festival faded—her beauty outshining everything, a shoujo heroine at her most radiant, the prettiest of all.
Beside her stood Oki, tall and slender, her figure a perfect canvas for a yellow Banarasi Kanjivaram art silk sari, the golden threads woven into the fabric glowing like the sun itself.
The sari seemed made for her, its vibrant hue complementing her sharp features, her ponytail replaced by a loose bun adorned with a golden hairpin, a shoujo elegance that turned heads.
"Nicawa-san, you're here too," Haari said, his voice soft, his blush deepening as he struggled to compose himself.
"Huh? Kichiro-san, what are you—" Ashi started, her voice catching as she noticed Aya standing behind him, her crimson sari a bold contrast. Ashi masked her expression, the hurt from the dinner (Aya's revelation) flickering beneath her calm facade, a shoujo ache she buried deep.
"Yeah, we didn't have anything to do at the hotel, so we came here," she said, her tone steady but guarded.
"Is Rafta not with you?" Haari asked, glancing around.
"No, he's with us," Ashi replied, pointing to a nearby vendor stall where Rafta stood, munching on a tiki, his blue kurta over white pajamas a casual yet striking look, his roguish charm evident as he waved at them, oblivious to the tension.
"This is great—now we're all here. Why don't we enjoy it together?" Aya said, stepping forward, her confident smile a shoujo invitation, her crimson sari swaying as she moved.
"That's a great idea—the more, the merrier!" Oki agreed, her yellow sari catching the light, her enthusiasm a shoujo spark in the lively crowd.
The festival ground buzzed with life, the air thick with the sweet scent of jalebis, the rhythmic thump of dhol drums, and the laughter of a crowd adorned in vibrant saris and kurtas.
Haari, Ashi, Aya, Oki, and Rafta moved together through the throng, their traditional attire—a white kurta pajama for Haari, a crimson Banarasi silk sari for Aya, an emerald green Banarasi silk sari for Ashi, a yellow Banarasi Kanjivaram art silk sari for Oki, and a blue kurta over white pajamas for Rafta—making them a striking ensemble, a shoujo-shonen crew stepping into a new chapter.
Ashi walked slightly apart from Haari, her emerald sari shimmering with silver brocade, the jasmine flowers in her hair releasing a soft fragrance with each step.
Her hazel eyes darted around, taking in the festival's vibrancy, but her heart still carried the weight of last night's rooftop tears, the memory of Haari leaving with Aya (the dinner revelation) lingering like a shadow.
Haari, beside her, stole glances her way, his blush from their earlier encounter fading into a quiet longing, his steady nature wrestling with guilt over her hurt.
Aya led the group with her usual confidence, her crimson sari swaying as she navigated the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning for the next adventure. "Let's try some street food—those pakoras look divine!" she declared, her voice a call to action, pulling Haari along by the sleeve, her playful grip a reminder of their university days.
Oki, laughed and joined in, her tall figure moving with grace. "And some chai to go with it—nothing beats festival chai haha!" she said, her enthusiasm a spark that drew smiles from the group.
Rafta, munching the last of his tiki, wiped his hands on his kurta and grinned, his roguish charm intact. "Count me in—I'm starving after that tiki!" he said, falling into step, his blue kurta a casual contrast to the others' elegance.
They reached a bustling stall, the vendor piling plates with crispy pakoras and steaming chai, the aroma filling the air.
As they ate, a lively dhol performance erupted nearby, the beat quickening the crowd's pulse. A group of dancers in colorful lehenga-cholis twirled into the center, their anklets jingling, inviting onlookers to join.
Aya's eyes lit up. "Let's dance!" she exclaimed, grabbing Haari's hand and pulling him into the circle, her crimson sari flaring like a flame.
Haari stumbled, his kurta fluttering, but Aya's energy was infectious, and soon he found himself moving to the rhythm, a swept into the chaos.
Oki joined next, her yellow sari a golden blur as she twirled with surprising agility, her laughter ringing out. Rafta leapt in, his blue kurta swaying as he matched the dancers' steps, his grin wide.