Chapter Seventeen: Threads and Thunder
(Ria's POV)
The day of the Alderbridge Cultural Festival dawned bright and chaotic.
The hallways smelled like fresh paint, glue, and nerves. Students were dragging tables, untangling fairy lights, and setting up posters like the world depended on them.
I tugged at my maroon kameez — Ma's gift — adjusting the gold embroidery around my shoulders. My reflection in the window made me pause. Brown skin glowing in the morning sun, noir hair falling in soft waves, eyes bright and alert. I looked… good. Like I'd been waiting all my life for a day like this.
Maya hovered behind me, fussing with a mannequin. "Ria, you have to stop looking at yourself in every reflective surface. People are going to think you're vain."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not checking myself. I'm admiring history."
Emma laughed. "You're going to make everyone jealous."
I shrugged. "Let them be."
By the time we reached our booth, the hall was a kaleidoscope of color. Students from every culture had their stalls — food, music, crafts — all buzzing and messy and beautiful.
Miles appeared almost immediately, leaning against the table next to ours with that signature smirk.
"Ah, the fashion queen herself," he said. "You really know how to light up a room, Threads."
I blinked.
"Threads?" I said. "What the—"
"Your outfit. Bangles, patterns, the way the fabric moves — threads. You're… Threads now."
Maya snorted. "Of course. Only Miles would give you a nickname like that."
I glared at him. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're dazzling," he shot back without missing a beat.
I flinched. "I… uh…"
Before I could respond, Ethan appeared with a tray of freshly printed brochures for the festival. "Ria," he said softly, smiling. "Need a hand with the mannequins?"
"Yes, please." I handed him a kurta, grateful for his calm, steady presence. "Thanks, Ethan."
He arranged the clothes carefully, making sure every fold looked perfect. "You'll wow everyone today. They won't know what hit them."
I smiled faintly, heart warming. Miles smirked nearby, clearly noticing the subtle compliment but pretending not to care.
Chaos hit fast.
A group of students from another booth tripped over a cord, sending a stack of flyers into the air. Emma dove, catching half of them. Miles leapt forward — awkward, heroic, and somehow annoying — knocking into my mannequin.
"Threads! Careful!"
"I am being careful!" I snapped, though my cheeks warmed at his concern.
Maya muttered, "It's like watching a bad rom-com, but with more silk."
Ethan came running, steady hands everywhere, lifting the mannequin back into place. "All good," he said calmly. "We've got this."
The festival started officially. Students, teachers, and parents wandered the hall, eyes wide at the colorful stalls. Music played softly in the background. Ria, Threads, and Bangladeshi fashion were a hit.
People stopped to admire the fabrics, ask questions, and snap photos. I caught glimpses of Miles leaning casually, smirk fading when he saw how confident I looked. Ethan hovered nearby, offering tips and adjusting folds, his quiet attention grounding me amid the chaos.
By midday, a storm rolled in outside, gray clouds blotting out the sun. A distant rumble made students gasp.
"Not again," Maya groaned.
Before anyone could move, thunder cracked — loud, sharp — and rain poured through a leaky skylight near the food stalls. Chaos erupted. Students ran for cover, tables tipped, decorations got wet.
Miles muttered, "Guess it's shelter time again."
Ethan nodded. "Where can everyone wait safely?"
I thought quickly. "Miles… your place is closest, right?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're volunteering to run through a storm with me?Again?"
"Maybe," I said.
Before we knew it, the entire group — Ria, Maya, Emma, Ethan, and Miles — were soaked but laughing, sprinting down the street toward Miles's house.
Inside, warm air and towels greeted us. Miles dropped onto the couch, hair plastered to his forehead. "Threads, you survived the storm with style."
"Barely," I said.
Ethan poured hot chocolate for everyone, carefully handing me one. "Here," he said softly. "You deserve it."
I sipped, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. Miles, on the other hand, smirked and leaned a little too close. "You know, Threads, you're really something."
I rolled my eyes, heart stuttering despite myself. "I told you not to call me that."
"Too late," he said, grinning.
Maya and Emma argued over whose hot chocolate was better. Ethan offered to refill mugs. Miles teased me mercilessly. And somewhere between the rain, the laughter, and the smell of wet streets outside, I realized:
I couldn't tell who I liked more.
The calm, steady one.
Or the chaotic, infuriating one.
Maybe that was the point.
Storms had a way of showing things.
And today, they'd shown me that Alderbridge wasn't just a city I was living in. It was a place full of colors, surprises… and tension I wasn't ready to untangle yet.