Chapter 07 - Crossing Paths

The morning sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of my penthouse apartment, filling the vast space with a soft, golden glow. It was one of those rare mornings when the city felt quiet, as if holding its breath before the day began in earnest. My penthouse, perched on the top floor of the city’s most exclusive high-rise, boasted panoramic views of the skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sweeping cityscape, the sunlight dancing on the glass as I lay in bed, unable to escape the clutter of thoughts racing through my mind. The events of the previous day felt like a storm that wouldn’t pass. Serena’s relentless teasing, Maya’s calm yet distant demeanor, Elia’s intense and cryptic presence, and Lukas. Lukas, whose unexpected arrival had stirred something deep within me. Elia’s reaction to him had been sharp, like an electrical current zipping through the room. It wasn’t just that she didn’t like him—it was the way her eyes had narrowed, like she wanted to burn a hole through him. Something had happened between them, and it lingered in the air like smoke. It gnawed at me, making it hard to think clearly. A subtle vibration from my phone interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Terry’s message lit up the screen: “Don’t skip breakfast. Serena’s already here plotting her next scheme.” I couldn’t help but smile at his words. Even in moments of confusion, Serena’s constant antics were a comforting reminder that life moved forward, with or without me. I tossed aside the blanket, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Sliding into a designer hoodie and custom loafers, I couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of Elia—her quiet intensity, her subtle defiance that seemed to challenge everything I thought I knew. Grabbing my phone, I slipped it into my pocket and descended the marble staircase, each echoing step amplifying the emptiness of the grand space. In the valet parking lot, my sleek black Aston Martin Valhalla stood waiting—its aerodynamic curves and hybrid powertrain a flawless fusion of cutting-edge engineering and luxury. The engine purred to life, a low, thrilling growl that reverberated through the stillness of the morning. As I weaved through the city streets, the precision of the drive brought a momentary distraction, but it couldn’t quite clear the haze in my mind. Arriving at campus was almost anticlimactic after such a grand departure. The dull buzz of students chatting and the quiet rustle of backpacks filled the air as I made my way into the cafeteria. The energy was palpable, but it couldn’t match the storm of thoughts still swirling inside me. Serena waved me over to a corner table, her hand slicing through the air like a beacon. Terry was already there, lounging beside her with an air of casual ease. I grabbed a tray with freshly brewed coffee and a couple of croissants, my mind still preoccupied with everything that had happened. The warmth of the coffee did little to settle my nerves. “Finally,” Serena greeted me with a mock pout. “Thought you might’ve been kidnapped by your tailor.” I smirked, dropping into the seat beside her. “You’re just jealous he’s on speed dial,” I shot back, my lips curving into a teasing grin. She laughed, a sound so bright and carefree that it drew the attention of several nearby tables. “Terry, can you believe this guy? All this wealth, and he still hangs out with peasants like us.” Terry smirked over his coffee, his gaze flicking between us. “Guess we’re special,” he said dryly, but there was a softness to his tone as his eyes lingered on Serena for a moment longer than necessary. Serena raised an eyebrow, her expression turning mischievous. “You’ve been quiet this morning,” she said, turning her attention back to me. “Still stuck on Elia?” I hesitated, swirling the coffee in my mug as the weight of her question settled on my chest. “It’s not just her,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. “Lukas showing up... there’s something off about the whole thing. It’s like I can’t quite shake it.” Serena leaned in, her voice dropping, her curiosity piqued. “Elia’s not one to let people get under her skin easily. If Lukas rattled her, there’s a reason.” She glanced over at Terry, who remained silent, observing me with a sharp gaze. “Trust me, Ankit. There’s a lot more to that situation than you think.” Before I could respond, Maya entered the cafeteria. Her movements were deliberate, calm—nothing rushed. She scanned the room with a quiet intensity, her gaze lingering on me for only a moment before she looked away, settling at a table by the window. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air amid the buzzing chaos, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions I was dealing with. “You’re staring,” Serena teased, nudging my arm with her elbow, breaking my trance. I shook my head quickly, trying to focus. “She’s fascinating,” I murmured, almost to myself, before catching myself. “I mean, she’s different.” Terry chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “First Elia, now Maya? You’ve got a thing for enigmas.” I ignored him, shifting my attention back to Serena, who was doodling on her napkin. “What’s today’s plan?” I asked, eager to shift the conversation. “Oh, nothing big,” she said, her voice light and breezy. “Just trying to convince Terry here to join me for a movie tonight.” Terry raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Is that what you call relentless texting?” Serena’s grin widened. “Admit it, you love the attention,” she shot back, her playful challenge hanging in the air. The banter between them was electric, a spark I hadn’t noticed before, something effortless and comfortable. The morning classes passed in a blur. My notes were half-hearted, and my mind wandered back to Elia’s cryptic words, the unsettling memory of Lukas' sudden reappearance. I glanced over at her from time to time—she sat a few rows ahead, her dark hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder, her posture radiating a quiet strength. Lukas was absent today, but his ghost seemed to hang over the room, an invisible tension that I couldn’t shake. The professor’s voice droned on, but all I could focus on was the undercurrent of tension that seemed to follow Elia everywhere she went. I watched her, the flicker of her eyes, the subtle set of her jaw. There was something in her that seemed both dangerous and captivating, and I found myself drawn to it, unable to look away. At lunchtime, the cafeteria was more crowded than usual. The noise felt suffocating, the chatter of students blending into a single hum. By the far wall, Elia stood apart, her posture tense and rigid. Her clenched fists and the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed an undercurrent of frustration or restraint. Her gaze was distant, as though she were grappling with something just beyond reach, her presence sharp against the blurred chaos of the room. The hum of the cafeteria seemed to magnify her stillness, casting her in a stark, solitary light amidst the noise.. “She’s like a storm, isn’t she?” Maya’s voice broke through the murmur of the cafeteria. She had appeared beside me, her tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. Her eyes were fixed on the scene, her gaze calculating. “Yeah,” I replied, startled by her insight. “But storms are dangerous.” Maya smiled faintly, her eyes still on Elia and Lukas. “Maybe. But sometimes they clear the air.” I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I chose to change the subject. We found an empty table by the window, the sunlight casting warm patterns across our trays. “You’re quieter than usual today,” I remarked, trying to get a sense of what was going on inside her head. “Just thinking,” she replied, her voice soft. “This place has a way of stirring up old memories.” “Good ones?” I pressed, eager to understand more of her hidden depths. She hesitated, her gaze drifting out the window. “Some. And some I’d rather forget.” Her words lingered in the air, heavy with something I couldn’t quite grasp. I wanted to ask more, to push further, but before I could, Serena and Terry joined us at the table, their laughter breaking the tension. “You’re missing out on the best jokes,” Serena declared, sliding into the seat beside Maya. “Terry here thinks he’s a comedian.” Terry rolled his eyes, his voice dry. “She’s just mad I outwit her.” The four of us settled into an easy rhythm. The banter flowed naturally, like a dance we had all become accustomed to. But even in the midst of the laughter, I couldn’t ignore the threads of tension weaving through the conversation—Elia’s storm, Lukas’ disappearance, Maya’s quiet resilience, and Serena and Terry’s undeniable chemistry. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I found myself lost in thought again, but not for long—tonight’s movie with Serena and Terry, the lingering mystery of Maya’s words, and the unspoken tension with Elia all collided in my mind. There was no escaping the pull of the unknown, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. That evening, I found myself back at the library. The quiet was a welcome reprieve from the day’s chaos. As I scanned the shelves, Elia’s voice cut through the silence. “Looking for something?” I turned to see her leaning against a nearby shelf, arms crossed. “Just some peace,” I replied. She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good luck finding that here.” We sat at a nearby table, the space between us charged. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she broke the silence. “Lukas shouldn’t have come.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “He has a way of ruining things.” I studied her, searching for the right words. “You seemed… close, once.” Her laugh was bitter. “Too close. And now it’s a mess.” I nodded, not wanting to push further. “If anyone can handle it, it’s you.” Her gaze softened, and for the first time, she looked almost vulnerable. “Thanks,” she murmured. “For not asking too many questions.” As she stood to leave, her expression shifted. “Maya’s good for you,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “Don’t mess that up.” I watched her walk away, her words replaying in my mind like a cryptic riddle. Maya’s good for me? The thought was as puzzling as it was intriguing, leaving me rooted to the spot, unsure of what to make of it. As I finally made my way outside, I spotted Maya leaning casually against a nearby wall. She straightened as soon as she saw me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Thought I’d find you here,” she said, her voice light but warm, carrying a familiarity that somehow felt reassuring. “For you,” she said, smiling softly. Curiosity piqued, I unwrapped the package to find a pristine copy of White Nights by Dostoevsky. “I thought you’d appreciate this,” she said, her eyes watching for my reaction. I flipped through the pages, the faint scent of fresh paper filling the air. “‘Your hand is cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka!’” I quoted, the words rolling off my tongue as if they had been waiting for this moment. Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You’ve read it already?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Not really. I saw a TikTok edit with this quote. It made me want to read it, though. Thanks for bringing it closer.” She chuckled, her laughter warm and genuine. “Well, now you’ve got no excuse.” “True,” I admitted. “Do you have a book in mind that I could get for you? I’d like to return the favor.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Not off the top of my head.” I leaned closer, a teasing glint in my eye. “I have quite the collection in my apartment. Are you free after class? You can pick something out yourself.” Her smile grew, a mix of intrigue and hesitation. “Sure, why not?” After class, Maya and I walked toward the parking lot, the chatter from the crowd gradually fading as we moved further from the building. The cool evening air wrapped around us, and I could feel her curiosity grow as we approached my car. When we reached the sleek Aston Martin Valhalla, her eyes widened, a spark of admiration lighting up her expression. I unlocked the car with a subtle press of the key fob, the soft click of the doors releasing a low hum from the engine. The lines of the car were as sharp as ever, its glossy finish reflecting the streetlights in a way that almost made it look like it was glowing. The Valhalla’s design was effortlessly elegant, its aerodynamic curves sculpted for both beauty and power. “Is that...?” Maya started, her voice trailing off as she stepped closer, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Aston Martin Valhalla.” She circled it, her fingers lightly grazing the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her tone almost reverent. “I’ve never seen anything like it up close.” I leaned against the door, watching her take it all in. “She’s got the looks and the power to match. 937 horsepower, zero to sixty in under three seconds. A hybrid powerhouse.” Her eyes shifted back to me, a playful glint in them. “You’re really making me feel underdressed now.” I chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s just a car. Let’s get in.” With that, I opened the door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her hands brushing against the luxurious leather interior. The engine purred to life, the power of the car palpable even at idle. As we pulled out of the lot, I could see Maya out of the corner of my eye, still in awe of the car’s beauty and power. “This is your car?” she asked, astonished. I smirked, gesturing to the sleek curves and gleaming finish. “Just a little something to get around.” Her astonishment only deepened as we pulled into the private driveway of my high-rise. The valet greeted me by name, opening the car door for Maya. “Okay,” she said as we stepped into the elevator. “I officially underestimated you.” The elevator doors opened directly into my penthouse, the sprawling space a mix of modern minimalism and understated luxury. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining one wall immediately caught her attention. “This is incredible,” she breathed, running her fingers along the spines. “You weren’t kidding about the collection.” I joined Maya by the shelves, casually pulling out a few classics. “You’ve got good taste,” I said, eyeing her selection. “But let me guess—you’re not a Colleen Hoover fan.” She let out a soft laugh, nodding in agreement. “Her books are fun, but they’re definitely for a younger crowd.” “Agreed,” I said with a smile, pulling out The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides. “This, though, is a masterpiece.” Her eyes lit up as she examined the cover, her fingers grazing the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read this!” she exclaimed. I grinned, feeling a spark of excitement. “Wait here,” I said, motioning for her to stay. “I’ve got something special.” I walked over to a discreet cabinet in my study, carefully retrieving a signed, limited-edition copy of The Silent Patient. The leather binding gleamed in the soft light, the inscription on the inside cover personal and unmistakable. I handed it to her with a sense of pride. “Here,” I said, “a little something extra for you.” She took the book gently, her eyes widening as she traced the signature. “This is... incredible,” she murmured, clearly moved by the gesture. “This one’s for you,” I said. “Readers to readers, right?” Her eyes widened. “This is too much.” “I trust you’ll keep it safe,” I replied, smiling. She hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you, Ankit. Really.” As the evening deepened, the city skyline glittered through the wide windows, a cascade of lights reflecting against the darkened sky. We sat on the plush sofa, the soft hum of background music underscoring our conversation about everything from literature to childhood memories. “I didn’t realize how much we had in common,” Maya said, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Neither did I,” I admitted, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “It’s… nice.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, then out at the sprawling city below. “It’s late. I should probably head home.” I hesitated, the thought of her leaving unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite explain. “Your place is pretty far,” I pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay the night, or I can drive you back. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” She bit her lip, considering the offer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” “You’re not,” I assured her. “The guest room’s all set up for situations like this.” She smiled faintly but then teased, “You’re sure the guest room’s actually ready? Or will I find it covered in dust and cobwebs?” I laughed, standing. “Let’s find out.” We walked to the guest room, and as I pushed open the door, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated a surprisingly pristine space. The bed was neatly made, the surfaces spotless—far more inviting than I remembered leaving it. “Looks like it’s cleaner than I expected,” I joked. Maya stepped inside, eyeing the room critically. “Maybe, but I can still see some dust. Honestly, I shouldn’t be the one to say this in your apartment, but…” She glanced at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I wouldn’t mind sharing your room. You know, just to be safe.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Alright, if that’s what you want.” We both headed to my room. When I opened the door, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the king-sized bed dominating the space. “This is your bed?” she asked, walking over to it without hesitation and sitting on the edge. “It’s huge—big enough to fit a king.” “Well, it is a king-sized bed,” I replied dryly. She smirked, patting the space beside her. “Big enough to share. Come on, Ankit, I don’t see another bed around, do you?” I hesitated for a moment, then relented with a laugh, joining her. As we settled in, I reached for my phone and tapped a button. The ceiling above us slowly retracted, revealing a glass pane that opened up the view to the night sky. Maya gasped softly, lying back to take in the sight of the stars twinkling above. “That’s… breathtaking,” she whispered. “It’s one of my favorite features,” I said, lying beside her. “I thought it’d be nice to share it with you.” She turned her head to look at me, her face illuminated by the faint starlight. “It’s beautiful. Almost as much as this moment.” We lay side by side, the stars twinkling above through the glass ceiling. The quiet between us was comfortable, but beneath it lingered a current of unspoken tension. “It’s funny,” Maya began, her voice soft, “how sometimes you meet someone, and it feels like you’ve known them forever.” I turned to look at her, her face lit faintly by the starlight. “You feel that too?” She nodded, her eyes still fixed on the stars. “Yeah. It’s… unsettling but in the best way. It’s like something Dostoevsky wrote: ‘What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.’” I smiled, catching the weight of her words. “That’s true. But maybe Kafka put it best: ‘You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.’” Her lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. “You’re quoting Kafka now? Impressive. But I think Wuthering Heights has my favorite line: ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’” I let out a soft laugh. “Alright, how about this? Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby: ‘I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.’” Her eyes gleamed as she leaned closer. “And you said I’m the poetic one? Fine. Let’s see if you can top this: ‘To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further.’” “Hugo,” I said with a grin. “Les Misérables. Classic. But I’ll counter with a movie this time. When Harry Met Sally: ‘I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts.’” She chuckled, nudging my arm. “And I’ll raise you Before Sunrise: ‘Isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?’” I shook my head, laughing softly. “You really don’t play fair, do you?” “Not when I’m winning,” she replied, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. The laughter faded into a softer moment, her eyes locking on mine. “Okay, your turn,” she said quietly. I hesitated, the words heavy on my tongue. Then I said, “The Silent Patient: ‘I’m not crazy. I’m just in love.’” Her brows furrowed slightly, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Wait, where’s that from?” “To know that,” I said, grinning, “you’ll have to read the book I gave you.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, fair. But I’ve got one for you too.” She leaned in, her voice softer than a whisper. “‘You don’t realize how brightly you shine for me.’” I stared at her, my heart skipping a beat. “Wow,” I said, my voice low. “Where’s that from?” She smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Ahh, from my heart.” “Maya,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Yes?” she replied, her voice equally soft, her breath warm against my skin. “I think… I’ve been waiting for this moment longer than I realized.” Her lips parted as if to respond, but instead, she closed the distance, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was gentle at first, like a question. Then it deepened, and the world seemed to melt away—the stars, the city, everything. When we finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly dazed. She laughed nervously, breaking the silence. “That was… unexpected.” I chuckled, though my heart was still racing. “Yeah, but not unwelcome.” She shook her head, biting her lip. “Not at all.” For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of what had just happened settling between us. Then, as if on cue, we both turned away, grinning to ourselves as we faced opposite directions on the bed. “Goodnight, Maya,” I murmured, my voice laced with warmth. “Goodnight, Ankit,” she replied, the soft smile evident in her tone. Above us, the stars kept their quiet vigil, witnessing the moment that would change everything.