CHAPTER 3-- THE FESTIVAL LIGHT

The days that followed slipped into a quiet rhythm. Ayla’s laughter began to find its place between Aariz’s silences. What started as simple exchanges about lectures soon wandered into small conversations after class — about books she had half-read, or the way she found the campus trees prettier than the ones back home.

For Aariz, who rarely noticed such details, it felt new… almost disarming.

It was during one of those casual chats that Ayla leaned over, whispering as if sharing a secret:
Ayla: “Are you going to the college fest this weekend?”

Aariz, caught off guard, had hesitated before replying with his usual plainness.
Aariz: “I don’t usually… but maybe this time.”

And maybe was enough.

By the time the evening of the fest arrived, the campus was transformed. Strings of fairy lights hung like stars stolen from the sky, stalls lined the pathways, the air filled with music, laughter, and the smell of street food.

Aariz arrived late, slipping quietly through the crowd, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t looking for anyone — at least, that’s what he told himself.

And then he spotted her.

Ayla was standing near the entrance, frowning down at her wristband — the thin strip of colored ribbon that allowed entry to the main stage area. She tugged at it, muttering under her breath, clearly struggling to tie it properly.

Before she could notice him, Aariz stepped forward. Without a word, he reached out, steadying her wrist with surprising ease. His fingers worked quickly, looping the ribbon into a neat knot.

She blinked at him, a little startled, then laughed softly.
Ayla: “You always show up at the right time, don’t you?”

Aariz only gave a small shrug, but when she moved her hand, the tiny leftover piece of ribbon slipped from her grasp, fluttering to the ground. Almost instinctively, he bent down, picked it up, and tucked it into his pocket.

Ayla didn’t notice. She was already looking at the glowing lights above, eyes wide with childlike wonder.

The music swelled from the main stage, pulling the crowd toward it. For a moment, neither of them moved, standing in that small pocket of stillness amid the chaos.

They walked into the fest together, though neither of them said they were together.

The crowd buzzed with excitement. Ayla’s eyes widened with wonder at every stall. Aariz mostly kept his hands in his pockets, watching her reactions more than the sights.

At one stall, Ayla spotted a game — knock the cans with a ball. She grinned at him mischievously.
Ayla: “Bet you can’t get all of them down.”
Aariz: “I’m not really into games.”
Ayla: “Exactly. That’s why you’ll lose.”

Something in her teasing made him pick up the ball anyway. With quiet precision, Aariz knocked all the cans down in a single throw. The stall owner handed him a small prize — a keychain shaped like a star. Without thinking too much, he placed it in Ayla’s hand.

She looked at it, then at him, her eyes softening.
Ayla: “You don’t play games… but you win them anyway.”

They moved on. At another stall, Ayla insisted he try the food. She bought a plate of spicy chaat and handed him a spoon. Aariz raised an eyebrow but tasted it anyway, only for his face to scrunch at the sharp spice.

Ayla burst into laughter.
Ayla: “Oh, come on! It’s not that spicy!”
Aariz, (coughing lightly, muttered): “Easy for you to say.”

For the first time, she saw him a little less guarded — not just quiet Aariz, but someone real, someone human.

Later, as the music from the stage swelled and lights twinkled overhead, they found themselves standing side by side again. Ayla tilted her head back, her eyes reflecting the glow of a thousand tiny bulbs strung across the courtyard.

Ayla: “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Aariz looked up too — but only for a moment. His gaze returned to her, softer now, almost unguarded.
Aariz (quietly, almost to himself): “Yeah… it is.”

She didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did, and just let the silence stretch.

And in his pocket, the small piece of ribbon rested — a fragile keepsake of a night that, for Aariz, suddenly felt unforgettable.

It wasn’t the games, the lights, or the music that stayed with him. It was the ribbon, the laughter, and the way her presence turned an ordinary evening into something quietly extraordinary.