58

As the evening settled over London, the city transformed into something even more magical. The sky was painted in shades of deep blue and purple, with streaks of orange lingering near the horizon. The warm glow of streetlights flickered on, casting a golden hue over the cobblestone streets.

Buckingham Palace stood tall and regal, its white façade glowing softly under the city lights. The intricate gates, which had looked grand in daylight, now seemed even more mystical, as if guarding a hidden world within. The fountains near the Victoria Memorial shimmered, reflecting the golden lights, and the entire place felt alive yet peaceful at the same time.

The group had been walking for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and the occasional sound of a violinist playing nearby. They had explored Trafalgar Square, laughing at the tourists trying to climb onto the massive lion statues and taking turns posing in front of the National Gallery. They had walked past the river, where the London Eye shone brightly in the distance, its pods slowly moving in a mesmerizing rhythm.

It was perfect.

Until Aisha suddenly gasped. "Oh my god."

Tara, who had been admiring the lights, turned to her. "What?"

Aisha pointed ahead, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Look at that!"

They all followed her gaze—there, in the middle of the open square, a man was dancing. And not just any dancing—he was going all out, spinning, popping, even throwing in a moonwalk. A small crowd had formed around him, clapping and cheering him on.

Aisha turned to the group, grinning mischievously. "Let's join!"

Tara's eyes widened. "Aisha, what?"

But before Tara could protest further, Aisha had already grabbed her hand and dragged her forward.

"Aisha, no!" Tara whined, laughing as she stumbled after her.

"Oh, come on," Rohan chuckled, following along. "We're in London, let's make some memories."

And just like that, the whole group jumped in.

Karan started first, dramatically flipping his jacket and attempting some terrible breakdance move that had everyone in hysterics. Aria followed, twirling like a ballerina, completely off-beat. Rohan did some exaggerated Bollywood-style thumkas, while Aakash pretended to be a background dancer in a 90s music video.

Aryan, smirking, turned to Tara. "Well, if we're already embarrassing ourselves..."

Tara rolled her eyes, but she was already smiling. "You're impossible."

He grinned. "Come on, Star. Show me what you got."

She huffed but finally gave in, moving to the beat and doing a playful spin before facing him again.

Aryan took that as a challenge.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, and smoothly mirrored her move—a slow step forward, a twirl, then stopping just inches from her.

Tara's breath hitched.

For a moment, everything around them blurred—the crowd, the laughter, the music. It was just them, standing there, the city lights casting a soft glow around them.

Aryan smirked. "Not bad."

Tara, flustered, pushed him lightly. "Shut up and dance."

He chuckled, stepping back, and they both let themselves get lost in the moment, laughing as the group continued their chaotic impromptu flash mob in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

After what felt like an eternity of laughing and dancing, the group finally collapsed onto a bench, breathless.

"That was insane," Aakash wheezed, leaning back.

"I think we just made some tourists' day," Aria giggled, pointing at a few people still smiling and watching them.

Tara shook her head, still catching her breath. "Aisha, I swear, only you could drag me into something like this."

Aisha smirked. "And yet, you had fun."

Tara didn't reply. She just smiled, staring up at the sky.

Aryan, sitting beside her, nudged her lightly. "See? Sometimes it's good to just let go."

She turned to look at him, her heart feeling strangely light.

Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

As they continued walking, the London lights twinkled around them, and for the first time in a long time, Tara felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they wandered into Trafalgar Square, the city seemed to breathe with life around them. The grand open space was a blend of history and modern energy, with the towering Nelson's Column standing proudly in the center, flanked by four massive bronze lions. Street performers were scattered across the square—some playing the violin, others painting portraits, and a few showing off their incredible dance skills, which had led to their spontaneous flash mob.

The fountains glowed under the golden streetlights, their cascading water shimmering in shades of blue and silver. Pigeons still lingered, despite the late hour, occasionally taking flight as groups of tourists walked past, their excited chatter mixing with the sounds of the city. In the background, the majestic National Gallery loomed, its grand pillars and intricate architecture bathed in soft light.

From where they stood, they could see the streets leading towards Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and the gentle curve of the River Thames reflecting the lights of Westminster Bridge.

The atmosphere was vibrant yet peaceful, filled with the murmur of conversation, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional laughter of people enjoying the night. London, at this hour, was a city of dreams, where every street seemed to whisper stories of the past and possibilities for the future.

As the golden glow of London's evening lights bathed the city, the group finally made their way to Paddington Station, their energy still buzzing from the day's adventures. The streets were alive, even as night began to settle, with the sounds of passing cabs, the rhythmic clicking of footsteps on the pavement, and the occasional busker playing a soft tune near the station entrance.

Aisha, holding a paper bag of last-minute pastries, called out, "Okay, last photos before we leave! Come on!"

Tara groaned, "Aisha, you literally have five hundred pictures already."

"And I want five hundred more." Aisha grinned, dragging everyone into a frame.

With Big Ben faintly visible in the background, the group huddled close, capturing a final memory of the trip that felt far too short yet so fulfilling. Aryan subtly glanced at Tara as the flash went off—her hair slightly messy from the wind, her lips curved into a natural smile. For once, she wasn't guarded, and he just wanted to remember her like this.

Finally, they made their way to the train platform, the cool night air brushing against their skin as the Oxford-bound train gleamed under the station lights. They boarded, finding their seats in the warm, softly lit carriage.

Tara settled near the window, resting her head back as the train slowly began to move. Aryan, sitting beside her, watched as she exhaled deeply, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. Across from them, Aisha and Rohan were flipping through their cameras, reliving the day's moments, while Karan and Aria were already deep in conversation about where their next trip should be.

As the train picked up speed, leaving London's skyline behind, Aryan leaned slightly towards Tara, voice soft, "Did you have fun?"

She opened one eye, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah... it was nice."

He chuckled. "Just nice?"

She huffed, turning her head slightly. "Fine. It was great. Happy?"

His smirk widened, but he didn't push further. Instead, he reached into his pocket, feeling the small flower petals from the bouquet he had given her earlier. He didn't know if she had kept them, but he had taken a few for himself, pressing them between the pages of his notebook.

The rhythmic clacking of the train tracks, the soft chatter, and the hum of the carriage created a soothing atmosphere. Eventually, Tara, still fighting the remnants of sleep from the morning, dozed off again, her head slightly tilting towards Aryan's shoulder.

He stilled.

For a moment, he thought about waking her up, but instead, he let himself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment, tilting his head slightly so it barely rested against hers.

As Oxford drew closer, Aryan only had one thought—

This day... this moment... he didn't want to forget it.

~•~

The train gently swayed, the hum of conversation and the occasional laugh from their group filled the space. Aryan was just about to close his eyes when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Dad calling.

He sighed and stood up, careful not to disturb Tara, who was still sleeping beside him. As he walked toward the train's corridor, he answered, "Hey, Dad."

Rajeev's voice came through, warm but slightly concerned. "Just checking in. Did you all board safely?"

Aryan chuckled. "Yeah, we're on the way back. Everyone's exhausted." His eyes flickered towards his group, some engaged in quiet conversations, others scrolling through their phones.

Rajeev hesitated for a moment. "And you? How are you feeling?"

Aryan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze drifted down the aisle when something caught his attention.

The bouquet.

The flowers he had given Tara—delicate, beautiful—placed carefully on top of her tote bag beside her seat. She hadn't thrown them away or left them behind. She had kept them.

A soft, almost involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

His father's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Aryan?"

He turned back to the camera and saw Rajeev looking at him with a small, questioning gaze.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

Aryan glanced once more at the bouquet, then back at his dad.

He nodded. "Yeah. All fine."

💜