The bus screeched to a stop outside the school gates, yellow-and-green like a wild bird begging to be released. And for once, no parent, no teacher, no exam held the leash. Delhi heat still clung to their collars, but freedom shimmered just ahead.
Isabella adjusted her bag and shot Estella a look.
"Ready?"
Estella grinned like she had a secret the world wasn't prepared for.
"Born ready."
Aaron tossed his guitar case up into the rack with too much confidence for someone who still got butterflies before music class. Ishaan practically bounced into his seat, as if enthusiasm alone could carry them through life.
"First overnight trip," he declared — loudly enough to be a broadcast announcement.
They laughed. They needed this. They deserved this.
The city slipped away behind them — horns fading, buildings shrinking, obligations dissolving mile by mile. Wind danced through the windows. Someone played music. Stories spilled. For the first time in months… they could breathe.
Estella leaned back. "Feels illegal to be this happy during boards."
Aaron smirked. "Relax. They can't arrest us for smiling."
The resort welcomed them with sunset gold and a breeze scented with mango blossoms. Laughter everywhere. Selfies. Music. Zero adult stress-energy.
But jealous eyes were already calculating in the shadows.
A group from Bi-Stream — top ranks, brittle egos — watched the four of them like predators dared to smile.
"Aaron's the guitar guy everyone adores?"
"And Ishaan —, class clown, everyone's favourite?"
"And now these two girls just… appear beside them?"
A smartphone camera tilted. A giggle followed.
Jealousy took its first breath.
The cabins were cosy; the night air hugged them warm. The trip felt dangerously perfect.
Over dinner, a soft breeze and softer laughter. Pasta and dumb jokes. The kind of night future nostalgia envies.
Later, around the fire, Aaron strummed chords that made strangers feel like friends. Ishaan beatboxed horrendously — and somehow everyone loved it. Isabella's laugh was brighter than the firelight. Estella clapped as she'd never been tired in her whole life.
A memory in the making.
Except… the universe loves ruining those.
Because somewhere behind them, the smartphone girl whispered,
"Let's humble them a little."
It sounded petty.
It was poison.
When the girls returned to their cabin, the door was already open.
Isabella froze. Estella scanned the shadows. Nothing moved.
"Probably housekeeping," Isabella said.
She didn't believe it. Neither did Estella.
Morning. Sunshine. Birds. Pool water sparkling like temptation.
But the manipulators had woken up with a plan.
On the trek, a bi-stream boy slid up to Estella with fake charm dripping like cheap cologne.
"So… how do our genius boys treat you?"
"They seem relaxed," she replied carefully.
He clicked his tongue. "Strange. I thought toppers lived inside textbooks."
Her smile tightened.
A seed of doubt was planted.
During lunch, Isabella caught a phone flash.
A photo of Aaron laughing beside her — posted with a caption that tried too hard
"Kings chilling while others grind "
Every view was a silent knife.
A scavenger hunt in the afternoon heat. Running, shouting, the thrill of competition — until suddenly, their clue led straight into nowhere. A "mistake" that cost them the lead.
Aaron squinted at the map.
"We were shifted. Someone changed it."
Ishaan didn't laugh this time.
The girls felt it too:
This wasn't an accident.
They were being targeted.
Night. Dance hall pulsing with lights and bass.
Estella's dress shimmered. Isabella's eyes sparkled.
But the manipulators weren't dancing — they were circling.
A bump, a spilt drink — then a smirk.
Harmless?
No. A warning.
Back in their cabin balcony, the girls watched silence seep into the night.
"Do they ever get nervous?" Estella asked.
"I expected panic," Isabella admitted. "Pre-board trauma. Not this calm."
She looked at Aaron inside, casually tuning his guitar.
"How are they so… steady?"
"That's what scares me," Estella whispered.
Because boys like that — calm under fire — they weren't clueless.
They were plotting.
And they were done smiling.
Outside, beneath the dim porch light, Aaron showed Ishaan something on his phone — screenshots, a group chat, a voice note dripping malice.
Ishaan's jaw clenched. "We're dragging them?"
"Not yet," Aaron murmured. "Let them think they're winning."
His voice dropped to steel.
"We play chess now."
For the first time, mischief left Ishaan's eyes.
They walked back inside like nothing had happened.
The girls fell asleep believing the boys were just tired.
Wrong.
A storm was looming.
Sunrise. The resort gleamed like paradise, pretending not to be a battlefield.
Breakfast chatter. Swimsuits. Plans for the last day.
But the manipulators didn't know the game board had flipped.
Isabella spotted Aaron and Ishaan walking together — whispering, serious, united.
That scared her more than the enemies she couldn't see.
Estella breathed out slowly.
"So… what now?"
Isabella swallowed.
"Now? We watch. We are smart."
Because one thing was suddenly, painfully clear —
This trip wasn't about relaxation anymore.
It was about the survival of reputation.
Friendships under fire.
Truth vs lies.
And nobody knew just how dirty the next game would get.
The sun was shining.
The laughter sounded real.
But tension clung like a shadow.
Act One was over.
Act Two would draw blood.