The night was unreal, painted in celestial silence and silver fire. Stars lay scattered across the dark canvas like shards of broken diamonds. The moon, exactly half, hung suspended like a clipped promise, casting soft light over the jagged ridges of the mountain. The air was thin but clean, filled with the chilled perfume of pine and earth. It was the kind of night that seemed too poetic for real life, a night born from novels, frozen in a frame where time bowed its head and paused. Nothing moved. Nothing dared to.
Karan walked beside Kanika with his hand clasped in hers, his grip loose, his smile softer than usual. He looked tired, but not from travel. He was dressed neatly, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He had a certain stiffness in his eyes that only the moon could detect. But she didn't notice. She looked at him and saw a man worn out from a long journey, nothing more.
They hadn't planned this it was time and fate—a remote mountain village far from traffic, noise, and the digital world. A place where the sky looked ancient and the world felt untouched. They had saved, plotted, imagined it again and again. Now they were here. At the top of the trail, the earth flattened into a small plateau. From there, the entire valley unfolded below like a dark ocean. Not a single light polluted the space around them.
When Kanika stepped onto that empty ground, she gasped.
The silence was overwhelming. The sky seemed closer here, too vast to measure. It stretched forever, filled with stars so vivid they looked unreal. She forgot everything—where she was, who she was, what time it was. She turned and looked at Karan, smiling, then let go of his hand and ran forward. Arms outstretched, she spun slowly beneath the sky.
"Woooo!" she shouted, her voice echoing into the abyss.
She twirled like a child—free, floating, unguarded. Karan stood behind, watching her. His lips parted into a smile, soft and shaky. She looked exactly like the dream he had carried in silence for years. And now that the dream had arrived, it felt as if the universe had finally whispered, "You've made it."
***
He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a packet of fireworks.
She stopped mid-spin and gasped. "What's that? Wait... are you serious? Here?"
He lifted the packet higher. "A surprise."
Kanika laughed in delight and sprinted toward him. "You're insane!" she said, throwing her arms around him. "Firecrackers? On a mountaintop? This is crazy. I love it."
"I wanted to do something you'd never forget," he whispered.
She pulled back, blinking away sudden tears. "I'm so happy today... I can't even explain it."
He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Then let's make it unforgettable."
They arranged their phones to record, set the camera angles just right. He lit the first sparkler, and she caught it with a shout. Rockets flew into the sky and bloomed in bursts of colour. Firecrackers exploded through the night. Every blast painted her face in joy, in light.
She tried to light one of the louder ones, and the sound startled her. She stumbled, and he caught her mid-flinch, wrapping her in his arms.
"Who's the baby now?" he teased.
She smiled and shook her head, then leaned her forehead against his for a second. But even that moment didn't erase the storm brewing inside him.
Finally, they reached the last batch of sky shots. Kanika held her breath as the rockets soared upward, exploding in golden rain. She stood still, soaking it in. Her eyes were wide with wonder. It was everything she had ever wanted—freedom, love, magic. She felt it all in that moment.
***
"Kanika," he called gently.
She turned to him, cheeks flushed, lips parted in anticipation.
"Yes?" she asked, almost shyly.
He took a step closer. "I need to tell you something."
Her heart skipped. "What is it?"
He looked her in the eyes and said, without a tremble, "I want to break up."
She blinked. "What?"
He didn't answer.
***
Her smile returned awkwardly. "Wait—what do you mean? Break up as in... break up as boyfriend and girlfriend and start our next chapter as husband and wife?"
"No."
The smile vanished.
He said it again, quietly but clearly. "I want to break up."
She stepped forward, confused. "Are you serious right now? What are you saying?"
He stared at the ground. "This is not working. I mean... it's too perfect. You're always there for me. You always understand me. I mess up, and you still stay. I can't be that person forever. I can't be the man you think I am."
She grabbed his arm. "Why are you saying this? Did I do something? If there's something wrong with me, just tell me. I'll change. I'll do anything. But don't throw us away like this."
He took a step back. "I'm not blaming you. It's not your fault."
"Then what is it?"
"I can't carry this anymore. This guilt. This illusion. I don't deserve you."
Her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head and pulled him into a hug. "Please don't say that. Don't say these things. You don't mean it."
"I do," he whispered. "I mean every word."
She slapped him.
The sound echoed louder than any firework. And then the silence returned—heavier than ever. Everything had stopped. The coldness around them turned brutal.
***
They returned to the hotel, not saying a word. She kept glancing at him, desperate for a change in his expression, a sign that he was about to say he was sorry, that it was all a terrible joke. But he was silent. His eyes were hollow. He moved like a ghost.
"Please," she said softly. "If you need something from me, I'm here. You don't even have to ask. Just don't leave. I'll give you everything. I'll become whatever you want me to be."
***
He didn't respond.
When he came out of the bathroom, she stood in front of him, trembling. She wore nothing but a two-piece bikini—something she had packed for fun, not desperation. Her voice broke.
"I'm all yours," she said. "I won't resist. I won't complain. Just please... don't go."
He looked at her, broken. "I'm not here for this," he whispered. "This was our last trip. We're not going to see each other again."
He turned, walked to the couch, and lay down under the blanket.
She stared at the ceiling all night, not sleeping. Neither did he.
But as she lay there, eyes wide in the dark, her thoughts raced like storm clouds. Why is he doing this? What changed? Was I too much? Too little? Was I not good enough, after all this time? Did I miss a sign? Did I fail to see him slipping away? Every memory of their smiles now burned like a question she couldn't answer. She felt the weight of a love that had no explanation, no warning.
Meanwhile, Karan lay stiff beneath the blanket, wide awake. His breath was shallow. She doesn't know this is for her, he thought. She'll hate me now. She'll think I'm a coward, a monster, selfish. But maybe one day, she'll understand. She'll be freer without me. Happier. She deserves a life that won't collapse with me, a life steadier than the ground I stand on.
***
The next morning, she tried one more time.
"Please. Tell me what happened. Was it something my father said? Do you not like how I behave, how I tease you? I'll do everything as you like. I swear. Just talk to me."
Karan didn't reply. He picked up his bag and walked out of the room.
And that was the end.
The final chapter of them.
But not the end of the story.
He hadn't left because of her kindness or her mistakes. He hadn't left because he stopped loving her. He had left because life, in its cruel logic, had cornered him. There was something darker behind the silence. Something he believed would protect her. He chose to be the villain in her memory rather than the burden in her future.
Whether he was right or wrong, that question remained unanswered. But in the moment, on that night, under the fireworks and the stars—they had both broken in ways they wouldn't recover from easily.
And the stars? They just kept watching, silent and distant, like they had seen this story play out before.