"Just... sketching."
Sahil raised an eyebrow.
"We're leaving in two hours. Pack up, buddy."
Arvind nodded quickly, crumpling the half-drawn sketch and tossing it into the bin.
"Yeah. Right."
Tiara's Room — That Same Hour
Tiara was stuffing sunscreen and sunglasses into her duffel bag when her eyes landed on it.
The notebook.
Secret Flies.
She reached for it slowly, fingers brushing the worn edges.
Arvind's name was scribbled in the corner of a doodle.
Her grandma's handwriting in one of the pages.
Her childhood — folded between lines.
She remembered the way Arvind laughed.
The way he always made her feel safe.
He had barely said anything at the party.
Did she even recognize him anymore?
She stared at the book for a second too long — until Ankita burst into the room, waving her phone.
"TIARA! You haven't packed yet? Move! We're leaving in an hour!"
Startled, Tiara blinked and tossed the book under her pillow.
"Yeah — coming!"
The Airport — That Evening
The six of them arrived on time.
Kabir, ever the planner, had printed boarding passes for everyone.
Sahil wore sunglasses indoors.
Ankita brought snacks for the entire flight.
Kiara dragged Arvind through security while teasing him about his overpacked bag.
Tiara stood beside Kabir, arms linked — her gaze occasionally flicking to Arvind, who never once looked her way.
They all boarded the plane together.
For a brief moment, Arvind sat by the window, watching the tarmac roll by.
Kiara nudged him.
"Excited?"
He shrugged.
"Sure."
But inside, a different answer stirred.
He wasn't afraid of Goa.
Not of the sea.
Not of the heat.
He was afraid of what would happen
if he let himself feel again.
Closing Line
"Next stop: Goa. Where old memories and new beginnings would meet under the same sun."
Act 5.5 – "The Quiet Between Waves"
They arrive in Goa: beaches, salty air, sunburns waiting to happen, roadside coconut stalls, loud bikes, crashing waves.
The tone is light at first — laughter, selfies, playful banter —
but just beneath the surface, quiet emotions ripple.
Scene 1 – Arrival in Goa
The group exits the airport.
The heat hits like a thick, wet towel.
Sahil fans himself dramatically.
Kiara:
"Welcome to Goa — land of beaches, bikes, and bad tan lines."
They pile into two cabs, backpacks stuffed, playlists clashing.
Kabir insists on driving one of the scooters himself.
Tiara hops on behind him, arms around his waist.
YOU ARE READING
Parallel Lines: a story of memory, silence, and first love
RomanceThere was a rooftop. A page that went unread. A name she never said out loud again. Years passed. The silence stayed. One train. Two people. No second chance - only the memory of what almost was. Parallel Lines is a story you don't read. You remembe...
Finally
Start from the beginning
