Paris, France.
The city of lovers. Of art. Of poetry carved in stone.
But for Rhea Sharma, it wasn't about romance.
She had come chasing something she couldn't name.
Or maybe... she was being chased.
Only a few days had passed since she and Sia Kapoor, her childhood best friend, landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport — two Indian girls with big dreams and tiny budgets, ready to begin their BBA at one of the top business schools in Europe.
Montmartre had welcomed them like a page out of a fairy tale. Cobbled streets, vintage cafés, and a flat that smelled like old books and lavender. Their third-floor apartment wasn't fancy — peeling wallpaper, creaky floors — but the view from the balcony made it feel magical. Every evening, golden light spilled across the rooftops like melted butter. And at night, the Eiffel Tower blinked in the distance, as if watching them from afar.
Rhea stood by the window, watching the city breathe. The laughter of strangers floated up from the street below, the scent of fresh pastries lingered in the air, and yet—her heart felt heavy.
Something was off.
"Are you coming or not?"
Sia's voice rang out from the kitchen, breaking the silence.
Rhea blinked. "Okay, okay! I'm coming," she called back, finally pulling herself away from the window. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had followed her all day. That dream… it still clung to her like fog.
A blurred face.
A voice.
A whisper that refused to leave her mind:
"Rhea, you have only 26 dreams to save me."
The words echoed again inside her. So clear, so real—like someone had spoken them right next to her.
In the kitchen, Sia had laid out a colorful mess of ingredients. Her bangles clinked as she chopped vegetables, humming to herself. "I was thinking… maybe we should check out that new café down the street? The one with the famous hot chocolate?" Her eyes lit up. "They say it's like drinking a cloud."
Rhea forced a smile. "Sure, that sounds great."
But inside, her mind wasn't with Sia. It was back in that dream. That strange place. That stranger with no face—and yet a connection so strong it made her chest ache.
"Hey," Sia said gently, her voice a little softer now, "you okay? You've been kind of… distant. Is it the classes? Or this city? I mean, Paris can be a lot."
"I'm fine," Rhea replied quickly, too quickly. She didn't want to scare Sia. Didn't want to admit how her nights had become darker, how her dreams were no longer just dreams.
"I'm just adjusting. That's all."
Sia paused, studying her. "You know I'm here for you, right? We're in this together. No matter what."
Rhea felt a sudden wave of gratitude. She gave a small nod. "I know. Thank you. I guess it's just... everything feels new."
Sia smiled again. "Tell me about it. I still can't believe we're actually living in Paris!" She giggled. "Two desi girls taking on the city of love. Someday we'll look back at this and laugh."
Rhea let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, we're practically the stars of our own rom-com."
"Exactly!" Sia grinned. "Now help me with this dinner. Let's make some magic happen."
They cooked together, falling into a comfortable rhythm. Laughter filled the kitchen, and for a while, the shadows in Rhea's heart faded.
Later That Night
After dinner and mugs of rich, velvety hot chocolate, the apartment grew quiet. Sia had gone for a shower, and Rhea sat alone in the dimly lit room. The silence felt deeper at night—like it carried secrets.
She sat on her bed, staring at the wall. Her thoughts drifted, pulled back to the dream that had been haunting her since their first night in Paris.
The first dream had seemed harmless.
A quiet forest, silver under the moonlight.
She had wandered barefoot through the trees, drawn by an invisible force, something she didn't understand… but couldn't resist.
Then came the clearing.
The cold wind.
And shadows—long, stretched, like hands trying to reach her.
And he was there.
A man. Or something like a man.
She couldn't see his face—only his silhouette at the edge of the moonlight. But his presence felt familiar. Safe. Sad. His voice, however, was crystal clear.
"Rhea... you have only 26 dreams to save me."
She had jolted awake that night, gasping for air, heart racing like a drum.
And now, every night since then, the dreams had continued. Each one a little deeper. A little darker. And the whisper? It always came.
What did it mean?
Who was he?
And why did it feel like she knew him?
Was she imagining all this? Or was something… reaching out to her?
The questions swirled in her head like a storm. She glanced toward the window. The Eiffel Tower blinked in the distance, soft and golden.
And in the stillness of the room, Rhea whispered to herself,
"Who are you?"
But no one answered.
Only the silence did.
And yet, somewhere far away—
In a place between dreams and death,
A voice whispered back:
"Come find me before it's too late."
To Be Continue.....