28th August 2017

THE THIRTEEN HOUR FLIGHT had left my muscles aching to stretch out like a cat on the seemingly comfortable queen-size bed, positioned in the centre of the room. But I had to keep myself awake for the day if I were to emerge victorious from the war between my biological clock and the changing time zones.

My eyes wearily gazed around my new space. I had never lived in a room that was big enough to fit a basketball court, but all the rooms in my father's new mansion seemed to be larger than my own little home back in Kolkata.

'Preeti, may I come in?' I heard Dad's voice accompanied by a knock on the door.

'Yes!' I responded, my fatigue immediately replaced by a smile on my face as I watched him enter the room, closing the door behind him. The silver lining in the grey clouds of this sudden shift of countries was being able to spend more time with my Dad, which wasn't possible when he had his company with Gabriel Agreste set up in Paris, whilst I lived with my Mom in India.

'Hope you like the room? I had it painted pink, just like you wanted,' my father questioned with a smile, similar to my own.

'Yes, I love it!' I beamed in excitement. 'Thank you.'

'Ah, no need to thank me. It's the least I could do,' he said and looked out at the sky through the large windows. The glass panels expanded from the ceiling to the floors. 'The weather is nice today. I was hoping to take you and your Mom on a little tour of Paris, but your Mom's already succumbed to the perils of jet lag.'

We both started to laugh, careful not to raise our voices to higher decibels just in case it stirred Mom awake from her slumber. Nonetheless, I highly doubted any sound from my gigantic room would reach the adjacent bedroom.

Suddenly, a sound of violins pierced through the air, which made Dad bring out his phone from the pocket of his beige trousers. He put the mobile phone to his ear — interrupting the orchestral notes — and muttered a few inaudible words to the person on the other line. After ending the call, he turned his attention back to me as he spoke, 'You should rest up. Watch one of your favourite movies.'

'You won't be joining me?' I asked despite already deriving the answer from the urgency in his tone.

'Sorry, dear. Something came up with one of our clients. I'll see you in the evening.' Dad placed a soft kiss on my forehead before rushing out of my room. As the white door swayed back and forth, I caught a glimpse of him dialling a number on his phone until the door fell shut.

The joyous thrill of moving into my new home evaporated into the air — which now hummed in silence. The exhaustion took over and I walked over to my bed to let my body fall onto the white comforter, almost sinking into the soft mattress. Reaching for my phone, I unlocked it to sift through multiple texts from Aisha, my best friend and a few from her brother, Abhinav.

I started to type on my keypad to let my friends know that I had arrived in Paris in one piece, but somewhere in between chatting with Aisha and Abhi — about the first impression the city had left on me — I dozed off.

· ♫ ·

Pink clouds. That's all I saw — a haze of pink fluffy clouds. I used my arms to dissipate them but they were everywhere — shielding me on all sides — floating above my head and spinning underneath my feet.

Suddenly, a white flash of wings broke through the clouds, flying right past me. It made me whip my head around so my eyes could follow the girl as she soared across an ash-laden sky. And then, she paused — froze in mid-air as her jet-black eyes met mine.

'Good evening, Miss Preeti Das Durand,' a mechanical voice broke me free from the clutches of a dream. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I sat upright, on my bed. I recognised my room but couldn't place the origin of the voice I just heard as my eyes frantically searched for it. 'Today's temperatures are expected to fall by 1°C as we proceed into the night and...'

I tuned out of the weather forecast as soon as I spotted the source — a black round box with small lights on the top, sparkling against the dullness of the room. It lay on the small table by my bed and I swung my legs over the edge to press on the small glowing buttons, hoping to shut it off.

'Goodbye, Miss Preeti. Have a wonderful night,' it greeted me before the sparkling lights went out. I inspected it for a few minutes, estimating it was some rounder version of Alexa and flipped it over to read the company name tag: "Tsurugi Technologies".

Sounds familiar.

I placed it back on the table and I felt the soreness of my muscles from maintaining the same sleeping position for what felt like — hours. Soon enough, my mind reverted to the rose-tinted dream my subconscious had conjured a while ago, along with the dark-eyed girl I had seen.

She had appeared as graceful as a swan, gliding through the pink clouds, but her face felt eerily familiar as if I had seen her before — not sure where, when or how. Her visage lay concealed by a white mask and her eyes were bordered by a black eyeliner. Yet, it was her expression that made me grow more curious by the second: sorrow. She looked almost devastated in contrast to the angelic glow of her costume.

I shook my head as I concluded that it was simply a dream which did not possess an ounce of touch with reality. I turned around to face the large windows of my room that overlooked the city of Paris. Tiny colourful dots of light twinkled like stars, dusted across the walls of bricks and stones. People had slowly begun to light up their homes in the glow of a setting sun. The sky was streaked with strokes from a painter's hand as if he had dipped his brush in a mixture of gold and crimson lacquer.

Picking up my phone from under the huddle of sheets and pillows, I checked the time: 18:36. I took a mental note of the sunset time but my eyebrows shot up the moment I realised that I had slept through 6 ½ hours. Slapping a hand against my forehead in disbelief at my sheer stupidity, I slid my phone into the pocket of my black PJs and decided to head downstairs to find my parents.

However, as soon as I opened the door, something felt off. The lights on the stairs and in the hallway were lit up, but the stillness of the air felt uncanny. As I walked down the steps in front of my room, I momentarily paused in front of the large family portrait at the end of the first flight of stairs. Dad and Mom stood against the backdrop of a yellow-painted wall — behind a seven-year-old me, smiling more goofily than either of my parents whilst holding up a peace sign. I chuckled at my younger self and walked down the main staircase to stand at the centre of the hall. Confused about where to go next, my eyes scanned the pillars and gold embellishments on the floors and ceilings. Dad hadn't given us a proper home tour yet.

'Miss Preeti Durand, I see you're awake.' I watched a man emerge from behind the black doors on my right and bow his head in my direction. Out of courtesy, I bowed as well before quickly straightening up my posture, recognising him as my father's assistant: Mr Bernard. The past five years had done a number on him — his ever-present optimistic joy was now replaced by a stoic frown and an overgrown white moustache.

'Your father left shortly for a conference with Mr Agreste, and your mother joined him too. He asked me to inform you that the young master is on his way here, to give you company,' Mr Bernard spoke with a deep-set voice that echoed off the white walls of the mansion.

I tilted my head at the mention of the "young master", wondering who he was referring to. My questions, however, were soon answered with the ring of the doorbell. Mr Bernard took long strides across the marble floors to open the gates.

A familiar blond with emerald green eyes made me rush to the entrance in excitement and engulf my childhood friend in a warm hug.

Adrien chuckled as he reciprocated the gesture by wrapping his arms around my shoulder, patting me on the back before asking on a more serious note, 'You brought my favourite ready-made gulab jamuns, right?'

━━━━━ ♫ ━━━━━

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Preeti is trying to settle in, but let's see how long the calm will last before the storm approaches — it's Paris after all 👀

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I feel so excited to continue the story again.

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