MAYA
Maya lay sprawled on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the slow whir of the fan filled the silence of her room. The day replayed in her head like an old film stuck on loop — Aveed walking with Tara, their easy banter, that smile of his that used to feel special but didn't seem like hers anymore.
Her throat tightened.
Why does it feel like someone just reached inside my chest and twisted?
She rolled over onto her side, hugging her pillow so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her mind wouldn't stop. Tara's laughter still rang in her ears. Aveed's calm voice, the way he leaned just a little closer to Tara while explaining something in class. The tiny details were stabbing at her now, each one sharper than the last.
And then there was Aryan.
Aryan, with his ridiculous comments, his stupid jokes, his winks that always made her roll her eyes. She had laughed today — really laughed, the kind of laugh that bubbled out without her permission. When Aryan teased her about owing him for helping with her drawing, she had even hugged him . It was innocent, playful… but Aveed had been there. Watching. Silent.
Her chest ached at the memory.
"Why do I care?" she whispered into the dark, her voice cracking. "Why the hell do I care?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself she didn't. That she could just let this go, that Aryan was enough. He was fun, he was loyal, he cared. Anyone would be lucky to have Aryan by their side.
So why couldn't she stop thinking about Aveed?
Tears stung her eyes. She sat up abruptly, wiping them with the back of her hand like she could erase the evidence of her own weakness. She hated crying. She hated the fact that someone else — without even trying — had this much power over her.
Get over him, Maya. He doesn't even care. He's happy with Tara. He's not yours. He was never yours.
She got off the bed and paced her room, her bare feet silent against the cool floor tiles. The moonlight spilling through the window lit her in silver as she whispered, "Tomorrow, I'm done. No more glances. No more waiting for him to notice me. If he wants Tara, he can have Tara. I don't care."
But her voice betrayed her. It trembled, cracked, made her sound smaller than she wanted to be.
Her phone buzzed suddenly on the bedside table. Aryan's message lit up the screen:
You made today fun. I'm glad.
Her lips curved into a small, sad smile. Aryan was trying, he always was. Maybe she should give him a chance, maybe this was the universe's way of telling her where she really belonged.
But the smile didn't last. Because even as she typed out a lighthearted reply, her heart betrayed her, whispering Aveed's name in the back of her mind.
She turned off the light, pulled the blanket up over her head, and curled into herself. The silence felt too loud, filled with everything she couldn't say, everything she wished she could stop feeling.
For the first time in a long while, Maya admitted to herself — she wasn't fine. She wasn't even close.
And in the quiet of the night, with her pillow damp against her cheek, she broke down completely.
ARYAN
Aryan flopped onto his bed, tossing his phone up and catching it repeatedly with one hand. His room was a mess — textbooks shoved to one side, his hoodie draped over the chair, and his guitar leaning against the wall like it was silently judging him for not touching it in weeks. But none of that mattered.
He was grinning.
Not the fake grin he used when cracking a dumb joke, not the polite smile he used around professors. This was the kind of grin that refused to leave his face no matter how many times he tried to sober up.
Today had been… perfect.
Not in some grand, fireworks way. But in the small, stupid ways that mattered to him. Like how Maya had laughed — really laughed — at his lame pun about her drawing. Like how she'd leaned in to listen when he teased Aveed under his breath. And especially, especially when she hugged him.
Sure, it was quick, light, almost casual. But it had happened. She hugged him.
Aryan kicked his legs against the mattress like a kid who'd just been given candy. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, chuckling. "Why are you so happy over one tiny hug?"
Still, the warmth of it hadn't faded.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel like a background character in his own story. He wasn't the funny friend who made people laugh while someone else stole the spotlight. Today, Maya had chosen to smile with him, and that meant more than he cared to admit.
He scrolled through his messages, hovering over her chat. Should he send something? He didn't want to sound desperate. But also, he couldn't just not say anything. He typed, erased, typed again. Finally, he settled on:
You made today fun. I'm glad.
Short. Simple. Safe.
He stared at the screen, waiting for the little "typing…" bubble to appear. His stomach did a weird flip when it finally did.
Her reply was light, playful. She was joking back. She actually wanted to keep talking.
Aryan fell back against his pillow with a sigh of relief, still smiling like a fool.
"See, man?" he told himself out loud. "You were worried she was hung up on Aveed. But look at today. She had a blast with you. You're the one making her smile now."
He thought about Aveed and Tara walking ahead, leaving him and Maya behind. At first, he'd wondered if Maya would drift after them, if she'd ditch him the second she got the chance. But she hadn't. She'd laughed, joked, and even defended him when Aveed raised an eyebrow at one of his stupid flirt lines.
She doesn't like him, Aryan thought, feeling strangely reassured. It was just me overthinking. She's fine. We're fine. We're better than fine.
His grin widened. Maybe he wasn't imagining it. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something.
With that thought, Aryan turned off his phone, folded his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling with a smile that refused to fade.
Sleep came easy that night.
AVEED
Aveed sat by his window, the city lights outside flickering like restless thoughts he couldn't switch off. His sketchbook lay open on the desk, but the pencil in his hand hadn't moved for the past twenty minutes. Instead, he just stared at the half-finished lines, trying to force his mind to settle.
But it wouldn't.
The image that replayed over and over wasn't the drawing in front of him — it was Maya. Maya laughing with Aryan. Maya hugging Aryan. Maya choosing to walk with Aryan.
He clenched his jaw, tapping the pencil against the page harder than necessary. Why does it bother me? he asked himself. It wasn't like Maya owed him anything. They were just friends. And Tara had been back today — his childhood friend. He should've been happy, caught up in the comfort of someone who knew him better than anyone else.
And yet… when Maya's laugh echoed in his head, mingling with Aryan's, something twisted in his chest.
He told himself it was nothing. Just a passing thought. But it didn't feel like nothing.
Tara had noticed too, earlier in class. She'd nudged him lightly when Maya had looked away, whispering, "You two always fight like that?" He'd brushed it off, pretending to be cool, pretending Maya was just another friend. Tara had laughed and let it go. But Aveed hadn't.
Because the truth was, he hadn't stopped noticing Maya for a long time now.
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His reflection in the dark window stared back at him — calm, collected, unreadable. The same mask he always wore. But inside? He was restless.
He thought about how easily Maya had smiled at Aryan today. How her shoulders had relaxed around him. How she hadn't even looked back when she walked with him.
That bothered him more than it should.
Jealousy wasn't something Aveed liked admitting to himself. It felt childish, petty. But tonight, he couldn't deny it. It was there, sharp and bitter, mixed with confusion he didn't want to untangle.
Was she slipping away from him? Or had she never been his to begin with?
The thought sat heavy in his chest.
He closed his sketchbook with a snap, pushed his chair back, and lay on his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to convince himself it didn't matter. That it was just one day. That he didn't care if Aryan made her laugh, or if she hugged him, or if she chose to walk beside him.
But his fists clenched against the sheets, betraying him.
The truth was simple, even if he didn't want to say it out loud:
He cared. Too much.
And that scared him more than anything else.