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Happy Reading!

✿ ✿ ✿

Warnings:

> Unedited.

> Long. 9500 words.

> A product of my imagination. I take no guarantee of what I have written down there. Please do not kill me if you find it over-done and boring.

« Goodbye Stranger »

Nandini

It all starts in Paris. It's always Paris.

I stare up at the sky nervously. The sun had just set, turning the sky into a dark shade of orange, with blue clouds and pink splatters here and there, reminding me of cotton candy. Taking a deep breath, I look back to the Eiffel Tower shining in front of me in all its glory, and then at my best friend, who was desperately waiting for me to say something.

"Aliya...," I plead, trying to reason with her. Her firm eyes look back into my squinted ones and I knew there was no escaping. She had made up her mind.

She crosses her arms around her chest, "You can't say you've lived your life if you are at the Eiffel Tower and you aren't kissing somebody!"

"I don't really think kissing a stranger is my idea of living-your-life," I mutter under my breath.

"We're doing this for you, remember?" She gently reminds me, "It was your idea to pick your head from your medical books and want to travel and quote 'live life', and now you're shying away?"

"I'm not shying away," I roll my eyes, "I just can't kiss a stranger. That's wrong in so many ways."

"Why not?" She whines, "You're beautiful, you have gorgeous hair, you're wearing a pretty dress and you look better than atleast 70 percent of the crowd here. Anyone would love to kiss you."

"Can't I just kiss you?" I look at her pleadingly.

"I'm not sure my boyfriend will appreciate that," she nods negatively.

"You don't have a boyfriend?" I remind her.

"Future boyfriend!" she laughs, "Now scan through."

I roll my eyes, turning behind, and start looking through the crowd. Most here were in couples, and committed men were so out of question for me. There were some men loitering around in groups, but most were way out of my league. Just when I was giving up hope, my eyes fell on three guys arguing in the corner with one another.

Indian.

My eyes lit up as I look at Aliya with raised eyebrows and she smirks, looking in the same direction as me.

"Which one?" She asks me.

"Let's make sure they're not gay first," I laugh, "But I like that one." I point at one of them indistinctly.

"The tall one? He's hot," my best friend grins.

"Nope," I don't pop the p, "The one next to him."

She shrugs in disappointment and pushes me towards them, who were atleast a good hundred meters away and couldn't see me... yet. Halfway through, I was about to chicken out, but just as I turned behind, my bestfriend's pointed eyes stopped me.

The things we do under peer pressure.

What was the point in all this again? Oh right, the perfect getaway from medical books to live your life before your parents get you married to a complete stranger is to kiss a stranger in Paris by the Eiffel Tower. That's just how my best friend's logic works.

Shouldering those thoughts, I walk to the three of them nervously, yet with a confident smile.

"Yeah but we've barely been here for....." the guy I was planning to kiss was speaking, and stopped midway looking at me.

"Hi," I tell him softly, not wasting another moment, "Are any of you gay?"

That guy just chuckled. The tall one was staring at me with raised eyebrows and amused eyes while the third one with the pointed cheek bones just smirked.

"We're as straight as your hair, ma'am," The third guy smiled, offering me his hand, "I'm Aryamman, by the way."

"Great," I say, hesitantly taking his hand and then looking at the first one again.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask the first guy straight-away and look at his eyes widen.

The third one, or Aryamman as his name was, grins wider with impressed eyes.

"I'd love to, sweetheart, but I'm engaged," the first one picks up his hand to show me the ring on his finger.

Yup, I just got rejected.

"But you could kiss my bestfriend," he adds instantly, pointing behind at the tall guy. The tall one's eyes widen as he looks back at his bestfriend, unsure.

"I'm Cabir," the engaged one smiled, "And this guy is single, doesn't have a girlfriend at all."

I look at the tall guy, waiting for a reaction from him. Or perhaps an introduction?

His eyes just look into mine, as if amused yet challenging, a small smirk on his lips.

"You–" he begins, but I cut him off.

Here goes nothing, I thought to myself as I stand on my toes to reach his height, grab his coat by the collar and delicately place my lips on his.

I could feel the shock in his body as his lips part but just as I was about to let go, he placed his hands on my waist, supporting me as he pulled me closer and reciprocates, kissing me back. My hand slowly shifts from his collar to his neck and his hair, before we part.

His eyes were dazed but a smile takes over his lips.

My eyes, in shock, fall from his eyes to his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, like a small peck, not an almost make-out.

"I was single too," I heard Aryamman murmur behind me to Cabir and a small smile takes over my lips and I almost chuckle. Almost.

I step back to my place, and we were both still in daze.

"Nandini," I whisper my name and repeat, a little louder this time, for all three to hear, "Nandini Murthy."

"Manik Malhotra," the guy I just kissed smiled back and I bite my lower lip, giving him a final nod.

He nods back with a smile before I turn and walk away.

I could see the stupid grin on my bestfriend's face and amused eyes, almost jumping in her place.

Don't look back.

Don't look back.

I turn back, instantly catching his eyes on me.

None of the three were talking, and Manik's eyes were still following mine. I hold the eye contact for a brief five seconds before I turn, grab Aliya's hand, pulling her away, and let both of us disappear in the crowd.

And then I don't look back, not until we're out of there and I was positive that I couldn't be followed.

We get into the metro back to our hotel, and sit on the seats. Aliya was still staring at me with star-struck eyes.

"What?" I ask her.

"What was that?" She was amused, hastily unlocking her phone and showed me a picture.

My eyes widened, "You took a picture of us kissing?"

"I could not not take one," she grinned, "That was one hot kiss. And you ended up kissing the hottest of the three."

I stare at the picture. I had been so determined to kiss Cabir, that I hadn't taken a moment to even look at Manik properly. He definitely was the hottest of the three, taller than me by a good few inches despite the fact that I was wearing heels. He'd worn joggers and a tee, along with a long over coat, and sneakers from below. He had hazel eyes, and a light stubble on his face.

He was hot. Very hot. And he was definitely a very good kisser.

The moment that thought settled, the kiss replayed in my imagination, and I shrug it away almost instantly.

"He's a stranger," I look at my best friend pointedly, "Someone I'm probably never going to see again."

"But you'd like to?" She asked me hopefully.

"Maybe yes, maybe not," I bite my lower lip to stop the smile.

"So you would like to see him again!" She grins.

"I said maybe not," I give her a fake glare.

"But you also said yes," she smiles.

"Does it matter?" I ask. She shrugs, and I look back at the picture of the two of us in her phone.

He was devastatingly handsome.

The reason I had not chosen to kiss him in the first place was because I'd thought he was too good looking, atleast for someone so ordinary like me. I had settled on his friend, Cabir. He wasn't bad looking either, but couldn't compare to Manik.

He was suave, in a way I couldn't quite point. I didn't think I stood a chance of kissing him.

But true they say, the universe works in mysterious ways.

If something is meant to be, it will be.

✿

I stirred the red drink in front of me, looking at how the ice inside melt slowly, uninterested in the darkness surrounding me and the loud music blasting in my ears.

Sleep lingered in my eyes but the regret of coming to a bar was even stronger. This was my last night in Paris, and Aliya had insisted it had to be spent partying away in a famous nightclub.

Although I wasn't heavy on dances or parties, I wasn't someone who hated clubs either. I'd just spent most of my life hiding behind text books, to a point that I had forgotten how to live it.

This trip had specifically been for me to enjoy myself, but now that I was so close to flying back home tomorrow, reality was catching up. And you couldn't really reconsider your life decisions in a place as exquisite as Paris' most famous bar, which was dark and loud, and the only thing it could do was probably give you a miserable headache.

"Can I have another drink?" I ask the bartender.

There was alcohol running through my system already, but I wanted more. I wanted to drink until I didn't remember who I am, or why was I here. I just wanted one normal night as one normal girl not surrounded my the problems of burdening parents; and I ironically enough, I had to get drunk to feel normal because sober just made my head spin.

The minutes of my watch ticked faster than I wanted it to, and I waited for my drink, but there were no sight of the bartender anymore. And then my eyes fell on the bartender standing in the corner of his countered bar, being scolded by a man who's back faced me.

He seemed to be scolding the bartender, as I stretched my hand to him, impatient for my drink. I wasn't an alcoholic, but just this particular night, I wanted to get drunk, and experience what it would be like, to grow up like a normal teenager.

I tapped the man's shoulder on his white shirt and he turned. It was very dimly lit, and I could barely see his face, except for the hazel eyes that stood out even in the dark, shining like stars on a stormy night.

"My drink?" I ask again, tapping my long nails on the glass counter.

Amusement played in his eyes like reckless flames.

"Do I look like a bartender to you?" I could barely see his face, but I knew he was smirking. His voice seemed somehow familiar but unrecognisable , and I blamed the alcohol running through my veins.

My eyes scan his attire and notice the suit he was wearing. "Sorry, you look like the manager here," I rectify.

The bartender standing behind him opens his mouth to say something but the stranger in front of me raises his hand, stopping him. An amusing smile covered his lips as he nodded, pouring the bottle of red wine that lied beside him into a glass and I sit back, looking away with my drink.

Aliya was happily dancing with someone, whom I recognised as the guy we'd met a few days ago at the restaurant we were having lunch in, and the one she ended up giving her number too.

I wish I could be like her sometimes. Confident. Carefree. And attractive in a way that she could make every person in the room turn, even girls.

The bartender– manager, who'd just given me my drink cleared his throat, grabbing my attention. "What would a beautiful lady like you do in a bar all by herself?" He asked, and once again I feel his voice was familiar. I ignored that feeling.

"I'm here for my bachelorette trip," I lie shortly, hoping he'd get the idea that I wasn't interested.

It wasn't a complete lie, after all. My mind wanders back to the boy I had just met at home, the one my parents wanted me to marry. I shrug those thoughts away the moment they come in.

My pending marriage was the thing I had come here to forget about and there was no chance I was thinking about it again.

"Who drinks alone on their bachelorette?" He asked, offering me another drink and I sigh, rolling my eyes. "I do." I answer, leaning behind. He leans forward this time, still a good two feet away.

"So you're the kind who'd get drunk alone on their own bachelorette?" He pushes the topic forward.

"I'm not here to talk about my marriage, I'm here to forget it. And you're clearly not helping," I might have sounded rude but I was just being honest. The smirk from his face disappeared and was immediately replaced by sympathy, the thing I hated the most.

"So you're the kind who drinks to forget their pain," he sits across the bar in the bartender's chair, and I nod. "I guess."

I couldn't believe I was actually having a conversation with him. But atleast he was keeping me company and preventing me from getting bored out of my wit on my last night here.

"Then why don't you do something else?" He asks. "Go out, enjoy your life instead of sulking in a corner because you know, now is all you have."

"You know, I'm not really asking for your advice. I have enough of them already. Please," I was rude at the start but my voice softened by the end.

"Tell me." He says, plainly. I push my drink away and look up, knowing he wasn't going to leave. "Tell me your story." He repeats, all ears.

I sigh. "And why would I do that?"

"Because, you know, using a friend helps lessen pain more than the alcohol would," He offers, "Letting it all out would lessen if permanently while alcohol could just erase it temporary. Choose what you'd like."

"You're not my friend. I don't even know your name," I reply back, amused. Leave alone name, I couldn't even see his face.

"Well, I have a feeling you do better with strangers," he said, and I felt my throat tighten as I remember about the stranger I had kissed just this evening.

"I don't," I say coldly. I leave the drink alone, take my bag from the adjacent stool and leave, without giving him another glance.

I was mad. I don't know why. I just was.

I look at Aliya, and she looked happy, dancing away. I'd leave her a text, I thought to myself. She had predicted that I'd slip out half-party anyways, but she didn't mind since the hotel I was staying in was just a street away.

But not feeling like going back just yet, I walk in the opposite direction.

It was an unusually chilled day at Paris, and I hug my over coat tighter to myself. I was wearing a short skinny black dress with boots and a long over coat. I wouldn't have even dared to take a walk in India alone with such clothes after midnight, but this was Paris. And, it was my last night here. I wanted to make reckless decisions without caring.

I hear footsteps, as if someone was running behind to catch up with me.

"Hey!" I recognise the voice. The bartender's. Or manager. Or whoever he was.

I roll my eyes, and don't turn back at him.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" He calls out after me, and I don't, nod until I feel his hands grabbing my wrists to stop me.

And then anger runs through me like I was an active volcano. Why the hell was he even following me?

"What the fuck do you–" I stop, "YOU?"

Amusement flickers in the way he smiles.

I recognise the person in front of me. My stranger. I mean, not mine, but the one I kissed. Manik Malhotra.

"Aren't you some run away girl," he smirks. I just stare at him in disbelief.

When I don't answer, he goes on, "So, you're here for your bachelorette, getting married... and you still kissed me?"

A red hue appears on my cheeks as I looked at him in embarrassment.

"You were the bartender?" I ask, still shocked.

"Yes, genius!" He sighs, "And just for the record, I'm not a bartender."

"Manager, sorry," I correct myself sheepishly.

This time, he rolls his eyes. "I'm the owner."

"Of course you are," I mutter under my breath. Involuntarily, we had started walking again without either of us noticing.

"So?" He looks at me, "Tell me your story."

"What is with you and wanting to hear my story?" I ask him, rather playfully.

"Well, I'm a rockstar, you don't know me?" He asked me, squinting his eyes at me.

I blink my eyes dubiously, letting his face settle in, and then I nod negatively. I've spent a lot of my years behind medical text books, when I should've been fangirling like any other person of my age.

Amusement settles in his eyes again.

"I don't see how you being a rockstar answers the question of why you want to know my story?" I ask, confused.

"Well, I am also the song writer of my band. I like listening to other people's stories, some stick behind and become inspiration for me to write new songs," he says.

"Ah!" I click my tongue. It made a lot more sense now.

"So?" His voice trails.

"I don't think I want me or my story to be a song, Manik. So no, sorry, I don't think I'll tell you my story," I tease.

Disappointment was clear on his face, and I couldn't help but wonder how he was so easy to read. He was so expressive.

"I think you owe it to me," he says for a moment. I look at him with questioning eyes. He goes on, "Well, you did kiss me without my actual permission back today, so I think you owe it to me."

My eyes widen. I fluster. He had hit the bulls-eye, that indecisive move of kissing a stranger that I was still embarrassed about.

"Okay," I say in a slow voice.

"Okay?" He repeats, surprised. I bet he expected some resistance from my side and I gave in too easily.

"But after that, you have to promise to let me be a secret caged in your heart, like page that was torn away from your book. We never talk about this night, and especially not that kiss, ever again," I condition.

He thinks for a moment, and then agrees, "Promise. We will enter and end this night as strangers. And just so you know, I keep my promises." He smiled. I returned it.

My heart beats faster. I'm walking out with a stranger, and I might end up being stabbed to death. But if I ain't allowed to walk out with a stranger, how can my parents expect me to spend my entire life with one?

"So?" He asks, bringing me out of my reverie as we walk side by side.

"I don't have a story," I say, truthfully. "And this isn't my bachelorette. I'm not engaged, or getting married... yet. But I'm about to. My parents like this guy whom they want me to marry, he's their business partner's son. He's a stranger. All I know is his name and I've barely met him twice. But I have to do it, because it benefits both their companies. I don't want to do this. I feel just suffocated, studying all my life and then just marrying away to a person I don't know. So here I am, trying to forget it all and live my life normally for just one trip, and now, one night."

It's weird how I just put my story ahead like an open book and let him read it, a complete stranger.

"So, you aren't that girl who considers an arranged marriage a slow fairytale of falling in love with your soulmate?" I could feel his intense gaze on me as he pulled an eyebrow up.

I nod negatively. "I might fall in love with him eventually. But I don't want to. I want to live life now like girls of my age, study more, experience love on my own before I'm showed how to live my life."

"I get it." He nods, "Have you tried talking to your parents then?"

"I can't," I sigh. I wish he could understand how my parents wouldn't care about what I want, they're the kind of people who love their business more than anything else in the world.

"You know, I'd give you two easy advices. First, nobody knows magic here. They can't read you. The more walls you build, the more you'd find yourself troubled in this world. You need to let people in, let your veils fall, let them know what you feel and then the world will automatically be different for you. Stop hiding," He whispered softly and I absorb what he says.

"And second..." his voice trails again before he picks up pace, "don't blame yourself for the things that the world has done wrong to you, stop forcing yourself to do things to make someone else happy. Maybe you do fall in love with the man you'd get married to, but your heart will never be happy because that isn't what you wanted in the first place. No one can look out for your happiness except yourself, so once in a while, close your eyes, take a deep breath and follow your heart, even if that includes you to go against the whole world because it makes you happy."

"Wouldn't that be selfish of me?" I retaliate, "To choose my happiness and ignore the happiness of the one's who brought me into this world in the first place." I refer to my parents.

"Maybe," he sighs, "But if they brought you into this world, they have to also let you live in it. It can be selfish, but if you don't prioritise yourself first, or do things that make you happy, how can you expect the world to?"

"You know, you're good with this," I look up at him goofily. He raises an eyebrow. "At being a stranger," I add. He laughs.

Neither of us realised how while walking, we had reached the Eiffel Tower again. The place where I met him in the first place.

"Is this your first time in Paris?" He asks, as we sit on a bench across the beautifully lit monument. It was glorious in the day, but being lit up like this at night... it was magical in a way I couldn't quite express into words.

"Yes," I agree, "What about you?"

"I live here," he says, "My family is back in India though."

Before I could reply, he goes on. "Have you ever been to the top of the tower?" He points at the Eiffel Tower in front of us.

I shook my head. "Never got the time."

"Let's go," he looks at me, with challenging eyes.

"Are you crazy?" I look at him with wide eyes. It was a cold night. "Isn't that like... illegal?"

"For a girl who walked up confidently and kissed a stranger, you have are quite unwilling to adventure, Nandini," he looks at me.

I roll my eyes. My eyes roughly glance at the time on my phone. 3 :47 A.M.

I knew he was waiting for a reaction. Ignoring him, I open my messages, and quickly type one to Aliya:

I'll be out until late. Don't worry. Have company. x

3:48 A.M.

I look up at him then. He rubs his hands together, waiting for an answer.

I let a grin spread through my lips. "Let's go!"

✿

"Wohoo!" Manik shouts in the air and I laugh as he sits next to me. We took a direct elevator up. This place was usually available to all tourists for sight seeing, but only during the day.

You can call it luck, or coincidence, that the lock was open and there was no one guarding the place. It had been a chilly night, and Manik was sure that when it gets too cold, sometimes, the guard retires home. It isn't all that illegal to come here up then.

We sit quite behind from the edge, all though there were stuff railings for safety. I had removed my heels and kept it beside me, as I stared out at the city lights.

We had full view of the city ahead. I always believed Mumbai was the city that never slept, but Paris was no less. It was beautifully lit with city lights, and I could see so many miniature cars driving around. The sky was a dark blue adorned with thousands of stars overhead.

I wasn't sure anymore if it was the alcohol making me feel drunk or the magic in the air.

"So," I look at Manik, who was staring at the city with equally adoring eyes, "What is your story?"

"What makes you think I have a story at all?" He asks me back.

"Everyone has a story," I tell him, smiling.

"I'll tell you my story," he conditions, "Only if you too, listen to it as a stranger, and forget about it when we say goodbye."

"I will," I promise. He gives a smile, and then looks away.

"Well, I was eighteen when I ran away from my home in India," he says, staring ahead again. Although he looked up at the stars, his eyes were distant.

"Ran away?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

He chuckled under his breath. "Dad wanted me to be a businessman like him. I wanted to follow my passion and do music. They loved me, and I loved them, you know? But on my eighteenth birthday, I was given the papers of his company, just inheritance papers. I couldn't do that. So my father, in anger, gave me an option: Either I leave that house, or I do what he wants. It's not difficult to guess what I chose that night, is it?"

His story passed a shiver down my spine. I couldn't run away from home. The idea just shook me. I think I loved my parents too much, no matter how tough things have been between us recently. Or maybe, I was just a bit of a coward: to leave everyone and everything behind and start new just didn't seem my cup of tea.

"And then?" I asked in a whisper.

"And then I came to Paris, to my Uncle and Aunt. Cabir is their son. We started a band together and now, seven years later, I am an established singer. I have my band. I'm successful." He looks at me with, and then decides to tease me, "Even though you didn't know who I was."

"I don't," I laugh, in defence, "I still don't." And then I go on, "Did you ever regret leaving your house that day?"

"Uh," he scratches the back of his head. "Do I regret choosing music over business? Not really. But do I regret leaving my house when my parents asked me to and ask my Uncle to get me to Paris with him? Yeah. I miss my parents."

"Wait," I squeeze my brows at him, "You told me you were the owner of the nightclub? And, you're a singer?"

"That club wasn't always mine. That was where we first started playing... my band. That place got us our first fans, our first gig. So years later, I bought it as a memory to be treasured," he explained.

I nod. "If you miss your parents, why don't you talk to them?"

I was a little surprised there. It had been seven years, and they didn't try to contact their son?

"I talk to my mom. A lot. It's my father whom I haven't spoken to. I know he misses me. I've always just been waiting for when he'd call me and tell me he's proud of me or that he forgives me and ask me to come home. I'll go running back," he says.

I look at him with sympathetic eyes. "Why don't you call him first?"

"Why don't you tell your parents you don't want to marry that guy yet?" He asks back rhetorically.

I was afraid that they'd be disappointed in me. I was afraid they'd force me to it, and I'll be stuck with hating them. I couldn't hate my parents. And I realised, in his own twisted way, he was afraid his father would be disappointed too. He was afraid his father would force him to take over the company too. And maybe, just maybe, he was afraid he'd hate his father for that too.

I and him weren't that different after all.

But his story... it was worse than mine. And here I was, moping about my mess.

"I'll call my parents and tell them I don't want to marry that guy, or anyone yet," I tell him. He looks at me in surprise. I go on, "Only if you call your Dad and talk to him too."

"What?"

I shrug. And then, as if accepting my challenge, he with determination opens his phone, and his father's contact.

He looks at me briefly. "If talking to my father is what it takes to save you from ruining your life, then so be it."

"You care about me too much," I point playfully.

"You're nobody to me," he looked at me again, a little too intensely this time, making me shiver, "But you're right, I care, stranger."

As he dialled his father's phone, I couldn't help but wonder how beautifully his two statements just contradicted each other.

✿

His father ended up not picking up the phone.

But since he had kept his part of the deal, I had to too. With trembling hands, I dialled my father. Somewhere deep down, I was hoping for him to not pick up the call too.

But he did.

"Nandini," he said instead of a 'hello', "It's past midnight. Are you okay?"

I shivered. I hadn't even realised it must be past midnight there as it's past dawn here.

"I– I– I am," I stammer. I could feel my heart pounding so fast.

There were goosebumps on my skin, despite wearing my overcast, and as if noticing that too, Manik removed his coat and placed it on my legs. I wanted to hesitate, but I didn't want to talk to him and let me father know that I was with a boy so late in the night. Or rather, so early in the morning.

"Nandini, is anything wrong?" My father asked.

"I miss you, paapaa," I say in one breath.

"I miss you too, bacha," he replied, "It was your decision to go to Paris and visit Aliya for a month, remember? And you're coming back home tomorrow, right?"

"I am," I took a deep breath. I could feel the tears rising in my eyes. Little did he know, I wasn't talking about this trip. I was talking about the distance between us. I was talking about how I missed my father who cancelled a business trip just to be there for my fifth standard prize day, and stood up in front of everyone, clapping the loudest when I walked up the stage.

"Paapaa, I don't want to get married," I force it out of my mouth.

He stays silent for a long time. "Are you crying, bacha?"

I wasn't. But the moment those words left his mouth, I started crying. I sobbed like a baby, talking to him about everything that was bothering me since the past few months. Manik, sensing this, moved away, giving me my privacy.

I told my father my doubts about marriage and how I wanted to live my life on my terms before settling down. I wanted to complete my education.

It was twenty minutes later, when Manik walked back to me, and I cut the call from my father. The tears had long dried, and I looked up at him with a smile.

"How'd it go?" He asked, sitting next to me.

"It feels like a relief," I said honestly, "I don't even know why I was so scared in the first place. I– Thank you for making me do this."

"If anything, you made me call my father," he says.

"Did he call back?" My eyes shine.

"No," he tried shrugging, but I could sense his disappointment.

"It's past midnight in India, maybe he's sleeping?" I offer, and he sits back next to me.

"Maybe," he says in a dismissive tone. "How did it go with your father?"

"He says we'll talk after I get home," I say.

He stiffens next to me. "So this means he'll still try to convince you for marriage?"

"What?" I knit my eyebrows, "No! He told me nothing would happen without my wish. He just wanted me to meet the guy because he thought that we'd be good together. But since I clearly have other things in mind, they'd refuse. They said I matter more than anyone else. God, this is such a relief. I was beginning to think I almost lost my parents."

He smiles. "I told you."

"What about you? Do you think your Dad will call back?" I ask.

"Maybe," he says, but I didn't miss the hope in his voice.

I stare at him, and he stares back. We were sitting close, and I saw the golden in his eyes, shining with a spark.

"Look ahead," he whispers, his eyes slightly moving from mine to my lips, but he turns away to look ahead, and I do the same.

I see the first rays of sun, it's reflection very faintly visible on the horizon. The darkness had disappeared, and the sky was the darkest shade of light blue, a gorgeous twilight.

My eyes twinkled. I think I'll forever be the girl who falls in love a little more when the sky is in beautiful colours.

"No matter how dark it gets, the sun always rises," I whisper under my breath, but I knew he heard. "It's beautiful."

"It is," he says, looking at me, "Beautiful." A red hue touches my face as I look at him.

He leans downward, and gently places his lips on mine. I let him.

We kiss as the sun spreads its first rays through the sky, breaking the night away into a beautiful morning.

When I first kissed him, it was different. It was because I had to. When he kissed me this time, it was because we wanted to.

We part away, and I was a little nervous he'd regret it. We were just strangers after all, if you could call us that. But he remained unfazed, as he looked at me with stars in his eyes.

"Have I told you anything nice since I met you?" He asks me.

I turn to him again, chuckling, "I think not."

"Well, it's the first sunrise I have watched in a very long time, and I'm glad you're here with me," he smiles.

For the first time in a very long time, my smile reaches my eyes. "I'm glad you're here with me too."

✿

It was around seven when he walked me back home. When we got down, he had held my hand, and he continued holding it on the walk back home.

It was mostly silent.

My other hand encircled his arm that held my hand. We had exchanged numbers, and walked back in peace, until we were on the corner.

"What time's flight to you have?" He asked me.

"The flight is at 1:30. I have to reach the airport by 10 anyhow, which means I have to leave around 9," I tell him.

"Ah!" He clicks his tongue, his eyes falling to his watch. "So you do have an hour and a half."

"I do," I agree.

"So, what are you gonna do until then?" He asks.

"I don't know," I shrug, "I'm all packed. All I have to do is take a shower, and dump these clothes inside."

I didn't want him to go. I didn't want this to end. It was almost as if I was hanging on a thin string. I knew that was impractical.

But what I also knew was, I liked him.

I didn't know if it was quite possible to catch feelings so soon, but turns out, it is. Especially if the man you fall for is a devastatingly handsome stranger who you could easily compare to a Greek God.

"So...," he bites his lower lip, stopping mid way and turning to me, "I was wondering if you'd like to spend the next hour or so with me? Before you leave?"

He looked nervous in asking that, as his hand left mind and he scratched the back of his head.

A smile spreads over my lips. "I'd quite like that, yes."

His eyes twinkled as if he hadn't expected me to agree.

"My car is just around the corner, let's go somewhere then," he looks at me.

"Where?" my eyes widen.

"Still don't trust me, stranger?" He teased.

I chuckle. "Don't think I have much of an option, do I?"

He makes a fake sympathetic expression, "You don't."

"But I still can't come this way," I say, pointing at my clothes. We were still in the clothes from last night.

"Oh, yeah," He mutters under his breath, "Do you have a change with you?"

I roll my eyes. "At my hotel room, duh."

"I have spare clothes at my nightclub. Meet you back in ten?" He asked.

I took a deep breath. Every instinct in me told me to say no, but I nod. This is why I was here. To be able to live. To be able to make decisions that I might, or might never regret.

Ten minutes later, he was standing down my hotel building in his black jaguar. I had actually taken a very quick shower, and slipped into black leggings, and a pastel purple hoodie, the one that I was planning to wear in the flight today. He himself had changed into black joggers and a red hoodie.

He grinned when I got back, and opened the door to me.

As he drives, I check my phone, and Aliya sure had texted back a few hours ago, asking me to 'enjoy my time'. Guess that is exactly what I was doing.

Alternately, taking advantage of his lack of attention, I google him. A lot comes up. He, Cabir and Aryamman were a band. I recognised some of their songs as well, they had been my favourite at some time too, but I had never bothered to go around checking about the singer. He had a lot of fans, mostly females. A lot.

Boy, I sure was lucky to be here with him, because I could think of a lot of people who'd kill to be in my place right now.

About twenty minutes later, we reach his planned location.

"Pont de Arts?" I look around at the Seine River and the bridge overhead, with thousands of locks on the grills.

He smiled, "But that isn't why we are here."

I look at him in confusion, but he just grabs my hand, as we walk downstairs, to the shore of the Seine River, where a gondola awaited us. He said something to the man in French, but I was quite busy looking around.

Movies always highlighted the bridge and putting locks on it, but they forgot about the actual beauty, the Seine river. The water was an ethereal blue, cams as close to being clear as transplant.

Manik hopped on to the gondola, and gave me a hand, as I followed.

The man drove the gondola, and we sat adjacent to each other.

"vous sortez tous les deux?" The man asked. I knew french, but also until the basics. I barely understood what we were asked.

A smile spread over Manik's lips, "Non." I atleast knew that meant no.

"puis?" The man asked.

Manik's smile just got bigger. "Nous sommes juste des étrangers avec des souvenirs."

"Ah!" The man clicked his tongue, "Vous deux bien ensemble."

I felt like a fish out of water, making me uncomfortable. I made it a point to ask Manik later.

He gave me a smile.

"Merci," Manik replied. The conversation was over.

"Why didn't we go to the Pont des Arts?" I ask him. Wasn't that the cliché?

"It's not allowed to put any more locks on that bridge," he tells me, "Even the heftiest bridge in Paris can no longer take the weight of love."

I stare at a distance, a small smile playing on my lips.

We take a few pictures together, selfies in the golden light, before the gondola parks on the shore, and I realise we were just across where we started. We couldn't just crossed the bridge on toes, but instead, he chose to take the gondola instead.

He gets out first, giving me a hand, and pulling me out with him.

He walks ahead and I follow his lead for a distance, and then we pause.

"You look at that man there?" He says, pointing at a man sitting in a distance on one of the benches by the river. He was dressed like a local, and carried a guitar in his hand.

I nod, looking at Manik. He holds my hand and we begin walking towards him. "His wife died from cancer three years ago, and this is where they first met. So every day, at this time, he stands here with his Ukulele and plays a song in her memory."

And suddenly, I was looking at the man in a different way.

"I like to think, that is what true love is," he looks at me, "To be able to love someone long after they're gone. It is felt here." He pokes my chest with a finger, as if pointing at my heart. "Making empty promises with a lock on a bridge and throwing the key in the water? Not really."

I stare at him with an adoring smile.

"Hello, Thomas," Manik greets the man.

"Ah, Manik!" The man greets him back. He'd probably be in his late forties, I notice, looking at they grey in his blonde heat. And then he turns to me. "You finally get someone worth dancing with?"

Manik looks at me briefly, then forwarding me a hand. I tremblingly keep my hand in his.

"I did," Manik looks at Thomas, before pulling me close.

He continues playing the song he was playing.

I figured it out
I figured it out from black and white
Seconds and hours
Maybe they had to take some time

I know how it goes
I know how it goes from wrong and right
Silence and sound
Did they ever hold each other tight
Like us? Did they ever fight
Like us?

Manik pulls me closer, and I smile as we sway with the music. "He knows you?" I asked him.

He smiles back. "I visit him very often, and many-a-times, drink coffee with him here before work. We've seen a lot of young couples in love dancing here carelessly to his music and he always asks me to bring someone and dance too. But I never had anyone whom I thought would like dancing in the middle of a street with me."

He twirls me around and pulls me close again. Our hands entwine. "And then?" I ask, my voice a trembling whisper.

"And then," he rolls me around again, and leans in to whisper into my ear, "I met you."

You and I
We don't wanna be like them
We can make it 'til the end
Nothing can come between
You and I

Not even the Gods above
Can separate the two of us
No, nothing can come between
You and I

Oh, you and I

I look into his hazel eyes for a minute, letting the music play.

"And what was the man on the gondola asking?" I ask, softly.

"He asked me if we were dating," he replied.

My eyes widen.

He chuckled. "I told him we were just strangers; strangers with memories."

A smile takes over my lips, as he twirls me once again, pulling closer than before. My hands snake around his neck, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I should be sleepy, but oddly enough, this was the most awake I had felt in a long time.

The song stopped and we pulled away when we heard applauses. I almost jumped on my place, moving away from Manik, but he was unfazed, a she gracefully bowed. We didn't even realise we had audience.

A lot of people had recognised Manik and there whispers in the crowd. A girl even walked to us, asking him for a picture.

He dubiously looked at me.

"Oh, please go ahead," I tell him, and move to the corner, sitting with Thomas as ans he nods back gratefully, attending his fans.

"So you are the girl who stole this young man's heart?" Thomas look towards me.

I didn't know what to answer. "It isn't like that," I bite my lips nervously, "We've only just met."

He laughs. "I met my wife here one afternoon, and I was so stricken by her. One date with her, and I had told her we would get married someday. She had laughed, but only three months later, we were in the church, pronounced husband and wife. I think God knew our time was short."

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

"But I am not," he looks at me. "Our time might be short, she was with me for only a year before cancer took her away. But I am here, ain't I? Three years later, still only in love with her."

I give him a generous smile.

"What I have learnt in life is, time is only a number," he tells me, "The universe works in ways that you and I can never understand. Some people meet for a day, and be in love for a lifetime. Others can be together for a lifetime, but not truly love each for even a day."

I look at him, not knowing what to say.

"Which one of that do you think the two of you are?" He asks me.

"I don't know," I reply in a whisper, quite honestly.

He smiles under his breath. "I wish you could look at the both of you the way they world looks at you two. And maybe then you'd know, you both look at each other in a way that even so many people who claim to be in love don't."

I reflectively look at Manik. He was clicking a picture with another fan now, but as if feeling much eyes on him, he looks at me.

The moment our eyes touch, a smile spreads over my lips.

I think deep down, I did know which one of the two we were.

✿

Manik parked the car in front of my hotel an hour later. We had stopped for coffee and breakfast at an Indian stall on the way back here.

Aliya had already reached, and told me she'd take care of the check out formalities for me. The bill was already paid, the luggage packed, all she had to do was sign the check out form for me.

"So?" He looks at me as we lean on his car, parked across the hotel.

"So?" I ask, pulling a smile on my face for him.

"You have to leave now?" He says.

"I do," I quietly agree.

"How are you planning to get to the airport?" He asks me.

"Aliya will drive," I say. The smile had vanished from my face. I didn't have the power to forge myself to keep smiling again.

He stays silent.

"How about I drive the two of you there?" He asks after a moment.

"What?" My answer was reflexive. I bit my tongue. "I mean... you don't have to, at all. We can manage...."

"I'm sure you can," he agrees. "But if driving you to the airport gives me an hour extra with you, then I'm in it?"

"Okay," I say.

"Okay?" He repeats. I'm sure he hadn't expected me to agree.

I was helpless. I wanted to spend that few more minutes with him as well. "Okay," I say.

"Okay!" He grins, and we look at Aliya crossing the road, with my luggage bag behind her.

"Thank you so much!" I tell her, taking the bag from her when she reaches us. Manik pulls the bag from me, and walks behind, to put it in the deck of his car.

"This is the least I could do for you after having to let you stay in a hotel and not my house for the last week," she tells me.

I roll my eyes. "It's not like it was your fault that you had a bug infestation in the guest room."

And then she grins. "Who's your company, hmm?"

"He's Manik," I tell her, "The guy I kissed yesterday at the Eiffel Tower?"

Her eyes widen. "Your stranger?"

I suppress a laugh. "My stranger."

And then, Manik walks back. "Hi, I'm Manik," he smiles at her.

Her eyes widen. "He was the guy you kissed?" She looks at me in shock.

I nod timidly.

"How did I not recognise him yesterday?" She said under her breath, "He's Manik Malhotra." And then she looks at me again, "Your stranger is the Manik Malhotra."

I laugh. "Or so I've heard."

✿

An hour later, I stood at the entrance of the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. I have always loved the vibe of an airport, of travelling, of people checking in and out, luggage here and there, and of course, flights.

I've always been sad while leaving any place, but this is the saddest I've ever been to leave another country.

As we stood outside Manik's car, parked adjacent to the VIP entrance. He pulled a few strands, because he wanted to say goodbye to me in peace without having media or fans recognise him. This had also bought us a little more time together, since VIP entrance was directly to the immigration line.

But this was it.

This was the most time I had.

I hug Aliya first. She hugs back tighter, already sniffing. In the past one month, we had gotten used to each other, even though we weren't living together since the past few days.

"I'll miss you," she said, and I wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"And I, you," I tell her, "But we'll be okay. Face time everyday! And anyway, you are coming to India this December."

She nods, hugging me again.

And then I turn towards Manik. He was looking at me dubiously.

I go ahead and wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my tip toes. He doesn't take a second to put his arms around me, almost making me crash onto his chest as he hides me into his arms.

I take a deep breath of his cologne, as if trying to remember everything about him, his scent, how tall he was, the sound of his voice and most importantly, the way everything inside me tingled when he held me that way.

We broke away when it was only time to let me go.

"One last time?" His voice was a whisper.

I just knew what he was talking about. "One last time" I agreed.

He leaned down, and placed his lips on mine. I kissed him back, smiling half way through it, wondering how our story started at a kiss and ended at that.

We pulled away only when we had to.

It was time to go.

"I'll miss you," I say in a murmur.

"Will you keep in touch?" He asks me.

"You have my number, don't you?" I ask. He nods.

"I'm not going to say goodbye, because if I do, I won't be able to let you walk through that door," he says.

"And I won't be able to walk through until you tell me goodbye," I tell him.

"Then we'd have to work out a mid-way," He says, teasingly.

I laugh, tears in my eyes. "We always find a mid-ground, don't we?"

"And we always will," he promises.

A small traitor tear slips out of my eye and I wipe it from the tip of my thumb, taking a deep breath.

I tip toe again, holding his shoulders for support and place a lingering kiss on his cheek. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and almost flustering.

And then I pull away, whispering softly in his ears, "Goodbye, Manik."

He doesn't say it back.

I don't look at him anymore, just grab my luggage and walk inside.

I don't turn, because I knew that if I did, I wouldn't be able to leave today.

I walk through the quick security, and it was an hour before I was able to sit on the plane. It could be more than an hour, but I didn't even realise how time flew, because my mind was focused on every minute I spent in the last twenty four hours, and more precisely, every minute spent with him.

I was sitting in the flight, just before take-off, when my phone buzzed with a message from Manik.

A smile spread on my lips instantly and tears glazed my eyes as my flight took off and I stared down at Paris and the Eiffel Tower, becoming smaller and smaller, until it completely disappeared behind a thick cloud layer.

I was taking a lot of things with me, but mostly memories that I'd cherish long after this trip would be over.

Well, to be fair, I was leaving something important behind top: my heart, that I had just given away to my stranger.

Something deep inside me hurt, but not the kind of pain that I wanted to end. It was the kind of pain that mad me feel alive, that reminded me of having a heart that was capable of love.

The smile remained intact on my face as I stopped looking out, and opened the message Manik had sent me.

It was the picture of us we had clicked, but looking at our smiles and faces so close together was enough to finally let the tears that I had been holding back run lose.

And just then, a text followed, making me feel a whirlwind of emotions, almost sending me into a transfix as I kept reading and rereading the words to myself.

It wasn't a long note.

Just two, simple words, that did more to my heart than anything else in this world could.

Goodbye, stranger.

✿ ✿ ✿