Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The scent of roasted peanuts and sugary cotton candy lingered in the air, mingling with the sound of distant laughter and the upbeat tunes of a live band setting up for the evening. Twinkling fairy lights draped across trees, and colorful banners fluttered under the golden glow of the setting sun. The annual carnival within their gated community had begun, a small but lively affair that the five of them had looked forward to every year.

“Well, I, for one, am ready to eat my way through every single food stall, and judge the food around here,” Tilottama declared, stretching her arms over her head as she eyed the rows of vendors setting up.

“I’m just here to watch people make fools of themselves at the karaoke booth,” Aradhyaa added, grinning. “Last year, someone butchered O Haseena Zulfon Wali song so badly, I think the speaker system gave up halfway.”

Veda chuckled, but her eyes remained distant as she absently adjusted the camera strap around her neck. Getting ready to capture the moments around her.

“I want to check out the art corner this year,” Rivanya said, stirring her iced coffee with the tip of her straw. “The paintings last time were surprisingly good. Maybe you should submit something next year, Vedu.”

Veda merely hummed in response, busy capturing the moment where a father was feeding his little girl a chunk of cotton candy.

Rivanya turned to her, head tilted. “Actually, scratch that. People would take one look at your work and assume you’re living in some sad noir film.” She smirked. “Honestly, V, do you even remember what color looks like?”

The words, though spoken teasingly, landed heavier than intended. The conversation stilled for a brief second, but Veda forced out a laugh. “Black and white has depth,” she said lightly. “Not everything needs color to have meaning.”

“Maybe. But life isn’t just shades of gray.” Rivanya’s voice was softer now. “At some point, you have to let color back in.”

Veda’s grip on the camera loosened. Plain speaking was Rivanya's way, never beating around the bush. She knew her friends meant well, but they didn’t understand. Not fully. Not the way she did. There had been a time when her paintings were vibrant, her photographs bursting with warmth. But then, everything changed. And after that day—after that incident—color felt intrusive, like an uninvited guest she wasn’t ready to welcome back.

Aradhyaa, sensing the shift in mood, clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough of this broody artist nonsense. Let’s go find something fun before we all start monologuing about the meaning of life.”

Before anyone could agree, Veda’s phone buzzed. She frowned, seeing Samaira’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Sami—”

“Veda,” Samaira’s voice was rushed, frantic. “There’s been a fire.”

Veda’s stomach dropped. “What?”

The world around Veda seemed to blur, the carnival’s cheerful sounds fading into nothing. She barely registered Tilottama and Aradhyaa leaning in, their faces shifting from confusion to alarm. Rivanya pulled the phone from Veda's grasp, putting it on speaker.

“A fire—at the studio complex! Everything—your studio, my lab, Tilo’s cafe, Ri's cabin, Aaru's clinic—everything’s gone.”

The friends could barely do anything but stare at the phone, speechless, as they let the information sink in. Finally, Veda found her voice.

“Are you safe?” Veda asked, her voice tight.

“I’m fine,” Samaira replied, but her breath was shaky. “But Veda… there’s nothing left.”

Veda turned to her friends, her fingers numb around her phone. And as the carnival lights twinkled behind them, an eerie contrast to the fire that had just destroyed their second home, she realized—some losses take color away, and some reduce everything to ash.