Authors pov.
Calm is a strange creature.
It never walks toward you.
It waits.
Breath held.
Tail curled.
Smiling like it knows exactly when it will bite.
That week felt like that creature.
Too gentle.
Too soft.
Too sugar-coated to trust.
Classes ended.
Exams happned.
Grades came in.
All four of them passed with marks so perfect it felt like the universe was bribing them to let their guard down. Professors complimented them. Students congratulated them. Nobody saw the blood washed off their hands, the secrets buried under the lakehouse soil, the shadows that lived in all four of their eyes.
Riya and Kabir grew inseparable again, the way they used to be before they knew what lived behind each other's smiles. Their inside jokes returned. Their bickering softened. Their banter regained its fizz.
Arjun and Sona were their own genre entirely.
Their silence talked more than others' words.
Their glances sliced air.
Their connection was too sharp to call love and too soft to deny it.
In the middle of all this deceptive peace, Sona finished her book.
Another bestseller before it even released.
Her publisher practically cried over the phone.
Pre-orders shot up so fast the app crashed twice.
And the four of them stood in their dorm kitchen, half laughing, half exhausted, each holding a plastic cup of cheap juice because champagne would've felt too sophisticated for this nightmare-turning-fairytale moment.
"You did it," Riya told her, hugging her from behind.
"I always do," Sona replied, sipping her juice like a smug cat.
Kabir ruffled her hair, like elder sibbling.
Arjun glared at Kabir for touching her hair.
Sona rolled her eyes at both of them.
A strange, beautiful, almost delusional normal settled over them.
Then graduation arrived.
The auditorium buzzed with white lights, flower bouquets, and parents who looked far too proud. Students in robes clicked photos like their futures depended on it. The stage glittered with a ceremonial confidence none of them actually felt.
Kabir received his degree with the grin of someone who finally survived his own brain.
Riya's name was shouted the loudest, half by classmates and half by the friends she spent years saving.
Sona walked the stage like she owned the building, the city, and possibly the world. Her emerald eyes caught every spotlight like it was designed for her.
Arjun walked behind her, shoulders heavy, gaze dark but oddly gentle.
He didn't smile, but he didn't need to.
His presence was its own vow.
They celebrated outside under strings of fairy lights the college installed for ambiance, unaware that these lights were illuminating four people stitched together by secrets and sins.
And then, in a moment nobody predicted, the boys broke.
Kabir spoke first.
Because Kabir always speaks first.
He stood in front of Riya, hands shaking so softly only she noticed.
He cleared his throat twice.
Looked at her.
Then looked away.
Then looked at her again like he was convincing himself she was real.
"I love you," he blurted.
Riya blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then hit him lightly on the shoulder.
"Took you long enough."
Kabir flushed.
Riya kissed him.
The world sighed in relief.
Across the courtyard, Sona was trying to tug confetti out of her hair when Arjun stepped closer. Too close. The kind of close that made the world fade out like a dimming bulb.
He didn't say her name.
He didn't touch her.
He simply looked at her like she was the first chapter of his life and every last chapter after it.
"I love you," he said.
Quiet.
Rough.
Almost pained.
Sona froze like someone pulled her battery out.
Then she puffed her cheek like an annoyed child.
"Stalking was way more fun before you said it out loud," she muttered.
Arjun nearly choked on air.
Then he grabbed her wrist and kissed her forehead with a tenderness that felt stolen from another universe.
"You're impossible," he whispered.
"And you're late," she replied.
But she leaned into him.
Of course she did.
They were two edges that finally stopped cutting once they fit against each other.
Riya and Kabir found them like that.
Two pairs now.
Two confessions sealed.
Four hearts beating unevenly, imperfectly, dangerously in sync.
"Okay," Kabir said dramatically, raising his hands. "We survived college, killers, stalkers, kidnappers, grave-digging, trauma bonding, and God knows what else. We deserve a vacation."
Riya lit up.
Sona narrowed her eyes.
Arjun was already calculating security risks.
"Where?" Riya asked.
Kabir smirked.
"Paris."
Riya squealed.
Sona smirked.
Arjun instantly hated the idea of crowds touching her but didn't say no.
And in that glowing moment under fairy lights, four people with fresh degrees and ancient secrets formed a plan none of them realized would change everything again.
A trip to Paris.
A peaceful break.
A fresh start.
The calm creature purred.
Because calm always behaves right before it bites.
Graduation tasted like freedom.
France tasted like possibility.
And their suitcases tasted like overpacking.
The next morning, their dorms became a battlefield of clothes, chargers, passports, and emotions nobody wanted to admit to.
Riya packed like an organized dream, folding every outfit into tidy little squares.
Sona packed like she was preparing for a dramatic movie escape, tossing black dresses, knives-shaped bookmarks, notebooks, pens, and three different shades of lipstick into her luggage without looking.
Kabir tried to organize her things.
Sona bit his hand.
Riya laughed so hard she fell off the bed.
Arjun packed quietly in the corner, slipping clothes into his duffel with perfect precision. Every shirt folded identically. Every item placed exactly where it belonged.
Every few minutes, his eyes lifted toward Sona.
Soft.
Possessive.
Warm enough to make her cheeks heat like a warning.
When he saw a skimpy dress she threw into her luggage, he leaned forward, took it out, and placed it gently aside.
"No," he muttered.
Sona raised a brow.
Wordlessly plucked the dress back.
Wordlessly put it in her suitcase again.
Arjun stared.
Sona stared harder.
Riya's laughter nearly shook the walls.
By noon, they were all ready.
Four tickets.
Four passports.
Four hearts thudding with excitement.
The airport felt like their first breath after years underwater. Long hallways, rolling suitcases, overpriced coffee, and loud announcements. They blended into the chaos like normal young travelers, not people who buried bodies, stalked killers, and loved too intensely.
Riya clung to Kabir's arm, bouncing with every shop they passed.
Kabir filmed her reactions like a lovesick director making a documentary on hyperactive butterflies.
Meanwhile, Sona drifted through duty-free stores like she was touring a museum of shiny temptations.
Arjun followed her.
Silent shadow behind her shoulder.
Eyes scanning every person who walked too close.
She pretended to be annoyed.
He pretended to believe her lie.
On the plane, Riya and Kabir took the seats in front.
Arjun and Sona sat behind them.
The lights dimmed.
The engines hummed.
The world blurred into altitude.
Sona curled into her hoodie.
Arjun tilted his head toward her.
"You nervous?" he asked softly.
"No," she whispered.
Then added with a tiny grin, "Maybe."
He placed her head on his shoulder without asking.
Her breathing steadied.
His fingers brushed her wrist, where faint bruises still lingered like secrets that hadn't learned to fade.
For the first time, they looked like a normal couple flying to Paris.
Almost.
Paris greeted them with cold air, golden rooftops, and the kind of magic that makes people believe in new beginnings.
Their hotel was vintage, warm, and beautifully haunted-looking, which Sona loved instantly. Riya squealed over the balcony view. Kabir threw himself on the bed. Arjun checked every corner of the room like he was ready to fight ghosts.
Then Paris swallowed them whole.
Streets breathed romance.
Cafes spilled laughter.
Patisseries seduced them with sugar.
Artists painted rivers on pavements.
The air itself smelled like warm bread and rebellion.
All four of them wandered under the Eiffel Tower like kids who suddenly discovered the world was bigger than their trauma.
Riya and Kabir ran ahead, hands intertwined, tasting pastries like they were collecting victories.
Arjun and Sona walked slower.
Not holding hands.
But walking so close the air between them sparked.
She eyed a street performer juggling knives.
Arjun gently turned her away.
"No," he said again.
Sona rolled her eyes.
But the corner of her lips tugged upward.
They visited museums.
Tasted gelato by the river.
Bought matching bracelets they pretended not to care about.
Took pictures with their faces half-hidden.
Kabir took way too many photos.
Riya forced everyone into silly poses.
Sona threatened to delete every picture.
Arjun saved all of them.
At night, Paris lit itself in gold.
They sat by the Seine, legs dangling over the edge, talking about nothing and everything.
For the first time in a long time, they looked free.
Happy.
Untouched by darkness.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because happiness invites shadows.
Once they returned to their hotel, laughter still clinging to their clothes, they didn't notice the man sitting in the cafe across the street.
Didn't see the way he leaned back slightly.
Didn't see his phone angled toward them.
Didn't see the red dot blinking faintly on the side of the lens.
Didn't see the way he zoomed in when Arjun brushed Sona's hair behind her ear.
Didn't see the way he recorded Riya kissing Kabir's cheek.
Didn't see the way he tracked their movements across the lobby.
He watched.
Waited.
Followed their footsteps through the glass like a predator memorizing his prey's rhythm.
Four friends climbed upstairs laughing.
Four hearts light and foolish.
Four future targets unaware that Paris was not just a vacation.
It was a stage.
And someone had just chosen them as the main characters.
The door closed behind them.
Their joy echoed through the halls.
Downstairs, the man smiled.
Slow.
Patient.
Hungry.
He whispered into his phone:
"They've arrived."
And sent.
Paris showed mercy on them. Till now atleast.
The next day was soaked in sunlight and the smell of croissants, and for a little while, they let themselves believe life wasn't hunting them anymore. Breakfast was a messy collage of laughter, crumbs, and Riya trying to steal Sona's cappuccino foam.
Sona slapped her hand away.
Riya shrieked.
Kabir choked on his croissant because he was laughing too hard.
Arjun just sat there like some carved-out stone deity watching his chaos-worshipping devotees battle it out.
They moved through the city like four untethered souls tasting freedom for the first time.
They went shopping near Champs-Élysées, where Riya dipped into boutiques like they were portals to Wonderland. Kabir dutifully followed behind her holding all her bags, pretending he wasn't enjoying it. Sona found a store of rare books and vanished inside with a gasp that sounded like happiness with sharp edges.
Arjun shadowed her quietly.
Not touching.
But keeping her in his orbit like gravity had rules.
She found old crime novels, annotated diaries, a leather-bound journal with gold embossing. Her eyes gleamed. Arjun's lips twitched at the sight.
"You're not buying all of that," he murmured.
She put everything on the counter.
"I am," she corrected.
Arjun paid before she could argue.
She blinked.
He smirked.
Riya made a heart shape with her hands in the background.
Kabir rolled his eyes so hard he nearly sprained something.
Lunch was by the river.
Street food.
Sticky fingers.
Ice creams melting too fast.
Arjun wiping chocolate off the corner of Sona's mouth with his thumb while she froze and pretended it didn't make her heart burst into tiny fireworks.
Kabir whistled.
Riya threw her napkin at him.
Arjun glared without looking away from Sona.
Afternoon took them to Montmartre.
Artists offered them sketches.
Sona picked one of all four of them.
Arjun stood a little too close behind her while she admired it.
Couple by couple, the city wrapped them like warm threads.
Kabir and Riya danced in the middle of a square with absolutely no rhythm and full confidence.
Sona filmed them laughing so hard she snorted.
Arjun watched her instead of the view.
Evening painted the sky in lavender and gold.
They took a boat ride under the cracked twilight. Sona leaned her head on Arjun's shoulder; she blamed the cold, he blamed her stubbornness, and neither admitted the truth.
Then came dinner.
Candlelit table.
A balcony view.
A waiter who kept winking at Sona "by accident."
Arjun's jaw tightened so hard it could've cracked diamonds.
Sona sipped her wine slower just to annoy him.
Riya elbowed Kabir whispering, "They're literally the worst and I love it."
Kabir grinned. "I'm terrified of them."
After dinner, they wandered through glittering streets where everything felt soft and unreal. Riya bought matching bracelets for both girls. Sona pretended she didn't care and then refused to take hers off.
The boys exchanged a look that said:
They're adorable.
Also terrifying.
Late into the night, they lounged in their hotel room, sprawled everywhere, limbs over limbs, tired but glowing.
Then Sona said the magic words:
"We should go on a midnight drive."
Kabir sat up instantly.
"YES."
I galre and his yea instantly changed into low
NO ,
Followed by Riya
No. But
Sona's eyes sparkled with that familiar trouble-loving glint.
Arjun's brows raised, like he wanted to say absolutely not, but then she leaned closer, tugged his shirt a little, and whispered:
"Let's go."
He folded instantly.
Five minutes later, they were in the open jeep Riya insisted they rent earlier "in case of spontaneous adventure." Paris glittered around them as they drove into the night with hair flying, music blasting, and laughter spilling into the wind like confetti.
Sona stood up slightly, gripping the roll bar, letting the night sweep across her face.
Arjun's hand shot to her waist, steadying her instinctively.
She looked down at him.
He looked up at her.
Something warm passed between them.
Kabir and Riya were singing loudly, terribly, passionately.
The Eiffel Tower shone behind them like a lighthouse for lost, chaotic souls.
And for a little while, it was perfect.
Too perfect.
Because somewhere on the curb, across the street, half-hidden behind a lamppost, someone raised a phone.
The lens glinted.
The light blinked.
Their joy was captured again.
Recorded.
Collected.
Claimed.
He watched them disappear into the night, wind in their hair, laughter trailing behind like sparks.
He smiled.
A quiet, patient smile.