The black SUV came to a smooth stop in front of a luxurious hotel entrance. The boys jumped out one by one—Drake, cool and calm; Zayn, cracking jokes; Levi, stretching like he ran a marathon; Ben and Caleb, already arguing over who's hungrier.
Hazel, however, stayed frozen in her seat.
Hazel (flatly):
"I'm not getting out. I'm not part of this circus."
Lucas (sighing dramatically):
"A circus without its main clown? Never."
And without warning, he opened her door and effortlessly lifted her from the seat.
Hazel (screaming):
"LUCAS! PUT ME DOWN OR I'LL—"
Lucas (grinning):
"Yeah yeah, punch me again? Already used to it, sunshine."
They entered the hotel—grand chandeliers, velvet chairs, and a fancy aroma of overpriced food—and took a big corner table.
Drake (to the waiter):
"Bring your full menu. Like… everything. Starters to desserts. We're starving like we just came out of a survival show."
Zayn:
"Add biryani, burgers, momos, and five milkshakes. We don't care about themes. We're hungry."
Levi (to the waiter):
"And don't forget fries. Large ones. For emotional stability."
The waiter nodded in disbelief and rushed off.
Meanwhile, Hazel sat like a statue, arms crossed, nose scrunched in pure disgust as she watched them order food like it was their last day on Earth.
Hazel (sarcastic):
"Wow. Did you guys just escape a desert or something?"
Ben (chewing gum):
"We were hungry... spiritually."
Zayn (mock whispering):
"She's judging us with her eyes."
Lucas (smirking):
"She always does. It's her love language."
Hazel turned to Lucas with her fake smile again, the I-will-punch-you-later kind.
Hazel:
"Don't flatter yourself. My love language is silence."
Caleb:
"Yeah well, your silence is screaming insults right now."
The food started arriving—plates and bowls stacking up like a feast scene from a movie. The boys dove in. Hazel just sipped her water, unbothered.
Hazel (quietly, to herself):
"One normal day. That's all I ask. Just. One."
And yet—there she was again… trapped in the chaos.
The boys got up from their wild feast, patting their stomachs like they just finished a royal wedding dinner. Plates empty, milkshake glasses drained, and napkins tossed—chaos.
Hazel? Still sitting there, arms crossed, looking like the only sane person in a room full of maniacs.
Levi (stretching):
"Ahh... that hit the spot."
Ben (to Hazel):
"You sure you don't want leftovers? We can pack air for you."
Hazel just glared.
Drake (grinning, holding the bill):
"Almost forgot something... this is for you."
He dramatically placed the long, scary-looking bill in front of Hazel.
Drake:
"Our gift… for punching my boy Lucas. We believe in karma."
Zayn (smirking):
"We'll wait for you outside. Don't cry now, Hazel."
He winked, and just like that, the whole gang walked out, leaving Hazel at the fancy table with a bill that looked like it belonged to a wedding caterer.
Hazel didn't even blink.
Hazel (dryly):
"I knew they'd pull something. Pathetic."
The waiter approached, bill in hand, slightly unsure.
Waiter (politely):
"Ma'am, would you like to pay by cash or card?"
Hazel opened her bag, pulled out a sleek black credit card, and handed it with a deadpan face.
Hazel:
"Card. And no, I don't need help affording it. Just swipe it."
The waiter took it respectfully and processed the payment.
Outside, the boys were laughing.
Lucas:
"I bet she's still in there, calculating how to escape without paying."
Drake:
"She's probably washing dishes by now."
Just then, the door opened.
Hazel walked out gracefully, holding the payment receipt in one hand like a trophy.
She walked past them like a queen, didn't even look their way.
Hazel (without stopping):
"Ah boys. Next time, try picking a place with better food."
Zayn (shocked):
"Wait... she actually paid?!"
Ben:
"...with what? Monopoly money?"
Levi (grinning):
"Nah bro… that girl's dangerous."
Drake (to Lucas):
"You got punched and she paid our bill. We owe her."
Lucas (mumbling):
"...I think I love her."
And Hazel? She just kept walking, not even turning back—power move complete.
Hazel walked with zero expression, her receipt still in hand, and just as the boys stood there in stunned silence—a sleek black car pulled up right in front of them.
Uber. Perfect timing.
She opened the door like she owned the car, got in without a word, and the door clicked shut behind her.
The driver asked, "Hazel?"
She just nodded coolly, and the car zoomed away, leaving a trail of confusion and humiliation behind her.
Drake (still staring):
"Who even is she, bro?"
Zayn:
"She paid for six starving boys and walked out like a CEO."
Ben (muttering):
"And she booked a freakin' Uber?"
Levi (shaking his head):
"Respect. I'm scared."
Drake turned slowly to Levi, completely serious.
Drake:
"Levi… we need to find her history."
Levi:
"Like, background check?"
Drake:
"Yeah. I want to know her dad, her mom, her blood group, her family tree... everything."
Lucas (still froze):
"Also ask if she's into guys who cry easily."
Zayn:
"You are the reason we get punched."
And with that, the gang stood there in defeat, watching the road Hazel disappeared down like they just witnessed the rise of a legend..
Present — Silverline Hotel Lobby
There, sitting casually on one of the plush chairs, was Lucas, scrolling through his phone. His face was calm, but his eyes… his eyes were locked on something.
Drake slowed down as he noticed—it was a photo. One of them all back in high school. Zayn making a face, Levi mid-laugh, Ben trying to pose cool, and Lucas and Drake… standing like they owned the world.
Lucas didn't even notice Drake until a shadow fell across him.
Lucas lifted his gaze, eyes lighting up instantly.
Without a word, he stood up, and they just looked at each other for a second. Then:
Drake (smirking):
"Still looking at our golden days, huh?"
Lucas (grinning):
"Those were the days, bro."
They shook hands, firm and proud. And then pulled each other into a quick, brotherly hug — one of those rare ones full of memory and loyalty.
They sat down, side by side.
They leaned back like nothing changed — just two legends taking a seat in their kingdom again.
The lounge air was calm, laced with soft music and distant chatter. Drake and Lucas sat quietly, letting years of distance soften between their words. They talked casually — jobs, places they'd been, people they'd met — like old friends filling in the blanks time had left.
Then, Lucas shifted slightly, the air around him suddenly heavier.
Lucas (hesitantly):
"By the way… did you ever contact Zayn after that?"
Drake didn't respond right away. He kept his gaze on the table, his expression unreadable. Then, he gave a slow, stiff shake of his head — a silent no.
The air turned still.
A moment passed in complete silence.
Lucas (softly):
"Actually, Drake… it wa—"
Drake (cutting him off, firm):
"Lucas, we're here to meet. It's been years. Don't drag other things into this."
Lucas fell silent, his lips parted slightly like he wanted to speak… but didn't.
He just looked at Drake, and then — with a sad smile that barely reached his eyes:
Lucas:
"You've changed, Drake."
Drake didn't reply.
Silence hung again.
Then —
Footsteps. Slow. Echoing slightly on the marble.
They both turned.
Zayn.
He walked in, hands in his pockets, a little hesitant but trying to act normal.
Drake froze.
His jaw clenched slightly, and he turned sharply to Lucas.
Drake (low, stern):
"Lucas… explain this."
Lucas looked from Drake to Zayn, trying to find words — but Drake didn't wait.
Drake (standing abruptly):
"It was nice meeting you after years, Lucas. I'm happy for that. I'm going now."
And like that — he walked out, not even sparing a glance at Zayn.
Lucas stood up, trying to stop him, reaching out —
But Drake was gone.
Zayn grabbed Lucas' arm.
Zayn (quiet, resigned):
"It's okay, Lucas. You don't have to do this. If he wants to go like that… just let him."
Lucas looked at him, trying to say something — to fix it — but Zayn smiled faintly, sadly.
Zayn:
"It's my fault anyway. I thought he saw me as a brother… that was my mistake."
And then he turned.
Zayn walked away.
Lucas stood there, eyes stormy, his chest tight with the weight of things unspoken — things broken.
In frustration and defeat, he walked to the table nearby and snatched a glass of strong whiskey, and knocked it back in one harsh gulp.
His eyes stared blankly ahead.
This reunion wasn't a win.
It was a mission lost.
Lucas stormed out of the lounge, shoulders tense, jaw locked. His assistant rushed toward him, a file in hand and concern on his face.
Assistant:
"Sir, I just got the update abou—"
Lucas (coldly, without stopping):
"Not now."
He brushed past him, eyes sharp and unreadable, heading straight to his car. The moment he sat behind the wheel, he yanked the door shut and hit the ignition. Without a word, he drove off, leaving a cloud of silence and confusion behind.
---
Meanwhile…
Drake gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles white. The city lights blurred as he sped through the streets, emotions churning louder than the engine. The moment he reached an empty, quiet spot — a hillside corner outside town — he slammed the brakes.
The car came to a halt.
Silence.
He leaned back in the seat, chest rising and falling. Slowly, he rested his head against the headrest, closed his eyes, and let the storm rage inside him — all the bottled-up words, broken bonds, and regrets washing over in the stillness.
For the first time in years,
Drake felt lost.
The phone buzzed against the silence, the bright screen glowing in the dim car.
Unknown Number:
"Sorry for today. Didn't mean to hurt you. Sorry!"
Drake stared at the message, his fingers resting near the screen but not moving. His eyes didn't blink. The name wasn't saved,
but he knew.
He didn't need a name to recognize the person behind those words.
The message was short. Simple. But it carried years of weight.
His thumb hovered over the reply button, but he didn't press it.
He just sat there, jaw clenched, emotions flickering in his eyes—
anger, sadness, betrayal... and something deeper.
He finally locked the phone screen and dropped it onto the passenger seat.
He leaned back again, let out a deep breath, and whispered,
"I'm the one who should apologize, Zayn".