Chapter 1: The First Meeting

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.

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End of Chapter 1 ✅

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