The final bell rings, and the exam hall empties. Hiral steps out, her eyes wide with relief, her heart pounding with excitement. She looks around at the familiar campus - its trees, benches, and corridors - knowing this chapter of her life has just ended.

Neha rushes to her, arms flung wide. "We did it!" she cries, laughing.

"How does it feel to be graduated?" Neha asks, breathless.

"Amazing," Hiral says, her voice trembling with joy. "I'm just waiting for the holidays to pass. Then I'll finally join the office."

"Yes yes, I can't wait too, Hiral!" Neha grins.

"Wouldn't it feel good to be financially independent, Neha?"

"Yes," Neha says softly, her eyes distant.

"It's my dream to work, be an independent person, and have my own house."

They walk together, arms linked, talking about the future. Hiral, the only child of her parents, who work in a modest private company, has always carried their hopes quietly on her shoulders. Neha is her friend since the first year.

Both girls have secured campus placements. In two months, they'll step into the professional world. But before that, one last adventure awaits.

Last year, their college trip was cancelled due to COVID. The disappointment was heavy. But this year, after relentless requests, the authorities finally agree. A trip to a nearby hill station is planned - a farewell gift to the graduating class.

"Great, all set for tomorrow's trip?"

"Yeahhh!" Neha squeals, her suitcase already packed.

------------------

Morning arrives with golden sunlight and buzzing excitement. The bus is alive with music, laughter, and chatter. Students sing songs, play games, and record videos of the winding roads, the thick forests, and the distant hills.

Hiral sits by the window, her hair fluttering in the breeze, capturing every moment on her phone. Neha joins her, their heads pressed together as they take selfies and giggle over inside jokes.

By evening, they reach the hill station. The air is crisp, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. Room keys are distributed, and students scatter to freshen up.

The next two days are magical. They visit a famous temple where bells echo through the valley. They shop at local stalls, sipping hot chai and bargaining over handmade trinkets. At the tea farm, they walk through rows of green, breathing in the earthy scent of leaves.

Tomorrow, they'll return. But today, they head to the waterfalls and hills - one last memory to carry home.

The group reaches the site just before sunset. The falls roar in the distance, mist rising like smoke. Hills stretch endlessly. Students laugh, pose for pictures, and record videos of the breathtaking view.

Suddenly, the wind shifts. It starts as a whisper, then grows into a howl. Trees sway violently. Dust and leaves swirl. The guide shouts, "Hold each other's hands! Walk toward the exit - now!"

Panic spreads. Students scramble to form chains, gripping each other tightly. Hiral grabs Neha's hand, her face pale. "Don't let go," she says.

Rain begins to pour - cold, sharp, relentless. Thunder cracks overhead. The path becomes slippery. The wind pushes them backward. Screams echo as some stumble. They're almost at the exit when it happens.

The edge rocks, slick with rain, betray them. A few students lose their footing. Hiral slips. Neha screams, reaching out - but Hiral is gone, swallowed by the river below.

The authorities rush the remaining students to safety. They count heads. Four are missing.

"Ron, Pooja, Shaheer... and Hiral," someone says.

Neha hears the name and collapses. Her scream pierces the air. "No! No, not Hiral!" She sobs uncontrollably, her body shaking.

Students gather around, crying, stunned. The joy of the trip is shattered.

The authorities contact the nearby police station. A search begins immediately. The night is long, filled with flashlights, shouting, and prayers.

By morning, two bodies - Shaheer and Pooja - are found. Cold. Lifeless.

Ron and Hiral remain missing.

Hours pass. Hope fades. The river is merciless. It is confirmed: they are gone. Swept away by the tides. Their bodies lost to the depths.

The college authorities make the calls no one ever wants to make. Parents scream. Some collapse. A few are rushed to the hospital, unable to bear the grief.

Neha sits alone, clutching Hiral's scarf. Her eyes are dry now - too much pain for tears. She remembers their dreams, their laughter, their plans. The trip meant to celebrate new beginnings becomes a graveyard of memories.

The college mourns. The hills, once echoing with joy, now stand silent. The waterfalls roar, but no one listens. Hiral, Ron, Shaheer, and Pooja - four bright souls - gone too soon.

Their dreams remain unfinished. Their laughter lingers in videos. Their absence is a wound that time will never fully heal.