Character Profiles

Name: Vihan

Age: 25

Field of Study: Fine Arts (Illustration)

Hobbies: Sketching, people-watching, reading graphic novels

Personality: Introverted, observant, thoughtful, deeply empathetic

Likes: Rainy days, black coffee, vintage bookshops, quiet conversations

Dislikes: Crowds, small talk, being rushed

Secret Dream: To publish a graphic novel about real love

Name: Jinal

Age: 24

Field of Study: English Literature

Hobbies: Writing poetry, collecting pressed flowers, baking

Personality: Gentle, intuitive, introspective, emotionally intelligent

Likes: Handwritten letters, warm tea, libraries, vintage dresses

Dislikes: Arguments, loud environments, being pressured

Secret Dream: To publish a poetry collection under her own name

Name: Parth

Age: 23

Field of Study: Music Production

Hobbies: Songwriting, guitar, photography, skateboarding

Personality: Funny, charming, flirtatious, emotionally layered

Likes: Late-night drives, vinyl records, spontaneous plans

Dislikes: Silence, being alone too long, being misunderstood

Secret Dream: To make music that tells his real story

Name: Jeel

Age: 22

Field of Study: Political Science with a minor in Philosophy

Hobbies: Debating, hiking, journaling, spoken word poetry

Personality: Bold, passionate, protective, a natural leader

Likes: Midnight walks, open honesty, indie music, strong coffee

Dislikes: Hypocrisy, being controlled, being seen as "too much"

Secret Dream: To start a nonprofit for youth mental health

Name: Vishwa

Age: 21

Field of Study: Environmental Science

Hobbies: Traveling, photography, rock climbing, stargazing

Personality: Adventurous, philosophical, loyal, deep thinker

Likes: Road trips, bonfires, slow conversations, constellations

Dislikes: Routine, fake people, closed minds

Secret Dream: To explore the world with someone he loves

Name: Shikha

Age: 20

Field of Study: Classical Music (Piano)

Hobbies: Composing, journaling, volunteering at animal shelters

Personality: Soft-spoken, kind, resilient, emotionally strong

Likes: Classical music, quiet mornings, old love stories, candles

Dislikes: Harsh criticism, betrayal, cold weather

Secret Dream: To compose a symphony about her life experiences

 > They were six —

wild, loud, loyal, and hopelessly tangled together in love, friendship, and every emotion in between.

From campus pranks and chai dates to heartbreaks, dreams, proposals, and promises — this is their story.

Jeel, Parth, Jinal, Vihan, Shikha, and Vishwa — each chasing their future while holding tightly to each other.

Through laughter that echoes like a song and silence that says more than words ever could,

they grow up, fall in love, fall apart, and somehow… always find their way back.

Because sometimes, the people you meet in the chaos of youth… become your forever.

A story of six soulmates. Three love stories. And one unforgettable bond.

Title :- "Six Strings of Forever"

Author:- Shining Star...

......Quote......

..."Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you; spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life,"...

...Note 📝...

... I do not own any of the photos, they belong to their rightful owners. And its just a fictional story, Enjoy yourselves....

...THANK YOU....

...****************...

The first time they were all in the same room, no one knew it would change everything.

It was a late August evening, just as the monsoon rains began to give way to gentler skies. The student union had organized a week-long creative collaboration event — “Art x Expression” — meant to bring together artists, writers, musicians, and thinkers across departments. Most people came for the certificate. But for six of them, fate had different plans.

Jinal arrived first. Notebook pressed to her chest, oversized sweater sleeves falling over her hands. She quietly scanned the art studio turned workshop room. The place smelled of acrylic paint and old pages — her kind of space. She found a window seat and curled into it like a cat, flipping open a blank page in her notebook and waiting.

The second to walk in was Parth. Loud, late, and carrying a guitar on his back like a badge of honor. “Yo, this the art-music-writer mashup thing?” he asked, grinning at a group of juniors who nodded too quickly. He dropped into a seat with a thud and pulled out a pick from his jeans pocket. He hadn’t noticed Jinal yet. But she noticed him — loud, golden energy, the kind of person that makes shy hearts cautious.

Then came Jeel, fast-paced and no-nonsense. She wore dark jeans, a fierce ponytail, and the kind of expression that said she had better things to do — but she was here because she believed in things. Causes. Voices. Change. She sat diagonally from Parth. “Can you not tune your guitar like it’s a concert?” she said, not looking up.

Parth raised an eyebrow. “Can you not breathe like it's a debate stage?”

Their eyes met. Something sparked. Not love — not yet — but definitely a storm.

“Wow,” Jinal mumbled under her breath, smiling into her notebook.

Vishwa came next — camera slung around his neck, wind still in his hair. He scanned the room like he was taking it all in for the first time, even though he was probably ten minutes late. He moved with calm confidence, the kind that doesn’t ask for space, it’s just granted. He gave a short nod to Parth, who he vaguely knew from a music club. Then he noticed Shikha at the doorway, hesitating.

Shikha was almost invisible in her pale blue kurta and soft shoes. Her hands were wrapped around a notebook of sheet music. She was scanning the room for a place where she wouldn’t be seen. Vishwa, without a word, shifted to the seat next to him and gestured with a smile.

She blinked, then walked over and sat. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“You like classical?” he asked.

She nodded. “Piano.”

“Cool. I listen more than I understand. But I like that.”

That’s how it started.

Finally, Vihan entered. Quietly, of course. So quietly that no one noticed him until he pulled out a sketchpad and began to draw Jinal — not her face, just the curve of her wrist as she wrote. She looked up, caught his eye, and for a moment, the room faded into soft blur. He gave a half-smile. She returned it.

The event host walked in — clapped twice to quiet the chatter. “Welcome, everyone! For this project, you'll be randomly placed into six-person creative groups. You’ll mix your mediums — combine visuals, text, sound, and themes into something original.”

Everyone groaned. Everyone except the six of them.

Because, as fate would have it, they were Group Four.

The icebreakers were awkward. Parth joked too much. Jeel threatened to leave if someone asked her to share her “favorite color.” Vihan didn’t say a word. Jinal kept writing. Vishwa just observed, while Shikha barely spoke above a whisper.

But then something shifted.

When asked to come up with a group name, Vihan softly said, “Kaleidoscope.”

Everyone paused.

“It means,” he added, “different colors, different lenses. But still… one shape.”

There was silence. Then Jinal said, “I like that.”

Parth shrugged. “It’s kinda poetic. I’m down.”

Shikha smiled — a small one, but real. Vishwa nodded. Jeel rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

And just like that, the shape of them began to form — uneven, unpredictable, but somehow aligned.

They didn’t know then how their lives would intertwine — how love would tangle with pain, how friendships would be tested, how laughter would echo in empty hallways, and how heartbreak would become art.

All they knew was that, for now, they had a name, a project, and each other.

And that was enough.

---

End of Chapter 1 ✅

By the second day of the workshop, the six of them had agreed on a concept:

“Unspoken.”

That was the name of their project — an exploration of everything people feel but never say.

It was Vihan’s idea, born out of a quiet sketch he showed Jinal. A faceless figure made of tangled lines, holding a heart in their hand, unsure where to put it.

Jinal had stared at it for a long time before whispering, “I could write something for this.”

Vihan only nodded. That was enough.

Their group gathered on the third floor of the arts building — a large studio filled with mismatched chairs, whiteboards, and floor cushions. Rain tapped against the windows as a soft background rhythm.

Parth dropped his guitar case with a dramatic sigh. “Okay team, let’s make something unforgettable. Or at least something that doesn’t make Jeel throw it across the room.”

Jeel rolled her eyes. “If it’s basic, I’m out. Don’t test me, Rockstar.”

“You wound me.”

Shikha, seated near the piano, gave a quiet laugh. Parth turned toward her, grinning. “See? She gets my vibe.”

“She’s polite,” Jeel shot back. “There’s a difference.”

Vishwa watched it all with mild amusement. He was already flipping through a set of photographs he’d taken the previous weekend — city streets, old hands, broken windows. “I have some visuals we could layer into the projection,” he offered. “Things that feel... forgotten. Like memories we never speak of.”

Jinal looked up. “That fits. The whole Unspoken idea. Like images that make people feel something they can't name.”

Jeel leaned forward. “What if we pair each image with a single line of poetry? Minimal words. Maximum emotion.”

Shikha added, almost shyly, “And the music can rise beneath each image. No lyrics. Just feeling.”

Parth nodded, impressed. “Okay, okay, we’re doing something here. I can start composing a soft acoustic progression — nothing too loud, just enough to hold the mood.”

Vihan turned his sketchpad around, revealing more abstract drawings — each one slightly distorted, like fragments of someone’s emotional landscape. “These can be transitions between the visuals.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, looking at each other with something like realization: they weren’t just building a project. They were building a connection — raw, real, and unfiltered.

---

As the hours passed, something shifted.

Jeel stopped rolling her eyes at Parth’s comments — though she still called him out with sharp wit. But she also listened when he played something on the guitar and gave thoughtful feedback, even if she pretended not to care.

“You know,” she admitted once, tapping her pen against her chin, “You’re not completely unbearable when you’re focused.”

Parth grinned. “Careful, Jeel. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

Meanwhile, Vihan and Jinal worked like they shared the same silence. She wrote in fragments, reading them aloud only after he finished sketching beside her. It was like they were telling one story in two different languages — but somehow, they always matched.

“Do you always draw emotions like this?” Jinal asked quietly once, her fingers resting near the edge of his page.

Vihan hesitated. “Only when I don’t know how to explain them.”

She nodded. “I write for the same reason.”

Their hands touched, just barely, and neither of them pulled away.

---

On the far side of the room, Vishwa and Shikha sat cross-legged near the piano.

He was showing her a photo — a candid moment of a little girl standing in the rain, arms open, soaked but smiling.

“What do you see in this?” he asked.

Shikha studied it carefully. “She’s not afraid to feel. Even if it’s cold. Even if she might catch a fever. She’s just... open.”

Vishwa smiled. “That’s what I thought, too.”

She played a soft note on the keys — then another. “I think I can write something that feels like that photo.”

“Show me?”

She played a few gentle bars. Vishwa closed his eyes. “That feels like a memory.”

“I think it is,” she whispered.

---

By the time the clock struck 6 PM, none of them wanted to leave.

They’d barely noticed the time. The storm outside had passed, leaving streaks of orange light against the windows.

Jeel stretched her arms and stood. “Not bad, Group Four.”

Parth chuckled. “That sounds dangerously close to praise.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Vihan gathered his sketches quietly, glancing once at Jinal. She met his eyes, smiled, and said, “Same time tomorrow?”

He nodded.

Vishwa stood beside Shikha, holding her umbrella. “I’ll walk you down?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

Parth slung his guitar over his back, turned to Jeel. “Want to race me to the canteen?”

“You’ll lose.”

“I’m counting on it.”

As they all exited into the soft light of the evening, something unspoken had already passed between them — a beginning stitched with threads of art, tension, kindness, and something tender that none of them had names for just yet.

But soon, they would.

---

End of Chapter 2 ✅

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