Riyan
The star burned in his mind long after he closed the notebook.
He could see it even now as he walked the empty road, Kabir trailing behind him, the weight of her signal pulsing like fire under his skin. She was there. She was reaching. And for Riyan, that was no small thing—it was a call to war.
"She answered me," he said again, for the hundredth time. His voice was half wonder, half frenzy. "Do you understand, Kabir? She risked everything to make that mark."
Kabir shoved his hands into his pockets. "I understand. But you're also not listening to me. A signal is one thing. A meeting is another. If her cousin—or her parents—get wind of it…"
Riyan's stride sharpened, jaw clenched. "Then let them. What's the point of signals and whispers if we never see each other again? I can't keep surviving on scraps."
Kabir groaned. "This is where you go reckless."
"This is where I go alive."
They reached the corner of the old banyan tree, its roots tangled like veins in the earth. Riyan slowed, leaning against its trunk, fingers tracing the ribbon tied there—the first relic of her defiance. The memory of her trembling smile under the temple's crowd, the brush of her hand against his—it roared through him like thunder.
"I need to see her," he whispered. "Not words. Not scraps. Her."
The Plan
Kabir sat on the stone ledge beneath the tree, watching him with wary eyes. "So tell me. What insane plan is bubbling in your head now?"
Riyan paced, every nerve on fire. "She's locked in. Watched. Which means she can't come to me."
"No kidding."
"That means I have to go to her."
Kabir nearly fell off the ledge. "To her house? Are you completely out of your mind?"
Riyan's eyes flickered with a dangerous light. "Not inside. Not yet. But close enough. A place she can reach. A place where she knows I'll be waiting."
Kabir folded his arms. "And how exactly do you plan to tell her without also alerting the hawks perched over her?"
Riyan tapped the notebook, his lips curling into the ghost of a smile. "She gave me her signal in the margins. I'll give her mine back in the same way. Something only she'll see."
"And what then?" Kabir challenged. "She sneaks out? Do you even know what that means for her if she's caught?"
Riyan's voice dropped, rough with conviction. "I know. But she's already risking herself for me. And if she's willing to take that step, I'll be there. Every step of the way."
Kabir rubbed his forehead. "You're going to get us both killed."
Riyan looked up at the tangled sky through the banyan leaves. "Better that than watch her fade behind walls."
The Decision
The two of them walked back toward the market, the night thick with the scent of fried food and incense. Every lantern seemed too bright, every crowd too loud, but Riyan's thoughts tunneled only toward one image: Ananya, standing under the weight of those suffocating walls, clutching his note in secret.
"She'll know," he murmured.
Kabir shot him a sharp look. "You're sure about this?"
Riyan nodded once, the gesture heavy with finality. "Yes."
Later That Night
His room was dark but alive with his heartbeat. Riyan spread the notebook pages across the desk, pencil gripped tight. His hand trembled—not from fear, but from the electricity of what he was about to set in motion.
The first line he wrote was small, buried in the margin:
A star brought me to you. Follow the river's bend, three nights from now.
He paused, staring at the words. Was it too much? Too reckless?
His chest tightened. No. It has to be this. She deserves more than silence.
He added one more mark, a tiny symbol only the two of them would understand—a broken circle. He'd drawn it once on her palm when they were playing around with chalk in college, telling her it meant unfinished, waiting to be completed.
If she saw it now, she'd know it was him. She'd know the circle could only be closed if they met.
Kabir's Warning
"You're actually doing this," Kabir said the next morning, staring at the marked notebook like it was a live explosive.
Riyan nodded grimly. "She needs to see me. She needs to know she's not alone."
Kabir's lips twisted. "Or she needs to stay alive. There's a difference, Riyan."
Riyan's eyes burned. "She's not surviving in there, Kabir. She's suffocating. And if I let her drown in silence, then what am I to her? What am I to myself?"
Kabir fell silent, the weight of Riyan's words leaving no easy reply. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging. "Then we plan carefully. No mistakes. If we're doing this, we do it right."
For the first time in days, Riyan felt air fill his lungs.
The Risk Begins
That evening, the laundry boy took the bundle again. Hidden within one of the notebooks, Riyan's signal waited, sharp as a blade.
Riyan stood in the shadows of the alley, watching the boy vanish down the street, his heart thundering. He pressed his fist against his chest, whispering into the night.
"See it, Ananya. Take the step. Meet me at the river's bend."
Ananya
Inside her locked room, Ananya turned another page of her notebook and froze.
Her eyes widened at the faint scrawl in the margin. A star. A broken circle. Words that made her throat tighten:
Follow the river's bend, three nights from now.
Her hand shook as she traced the letters, her heart hammering against her ribs.
He was calling her. To him.
Dangerous. Impossible. Yet every fiber of her being screamed yes.
She pressed the book against her chest, eyes shut tight. Three nights. I'll find a way.
Riyan stood at the banyan tree that night, staring at the ribbon fluttering in the dark. The risk was enormous, the danger unthinkable. But in three nights, she would come—if she dared.
And if she did, nothing on earth would keep him from her.