The first two days bled into each other, a blur of sleepless nights and restless pacing. Aryan's room looked like a war zone — clothes on the floor, his sketchbook open on the desk, phone face-down so he wouldn't have to see Maya's name flashing every few hours.
He dragged both hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. Fuck this. Fuck everything.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it — Maya leaning in, laughing at something Aveed said, her eyes warm, her smile soft. That image burned more than anything.
"Why him?" Aryan spat into the silence. "What the hell does he have that I don't?"
His voice cracked, and he laughed bitterly. "Oh right… he's calm, he's mysterious, he's perfect. And me? I'm just the idiot best friend who makes her laugh."
He paced the length of the room, fists clenching and unclenching. His reflection in the mirror caught him mid-rant — wild-eyed, jaw tight, shoulders hunched like a cornered animal.
"You should tell her," he whispered, then snapped, louder: "No, you can't tell her. You'll fuck it up, Aryan. You'll lose her."
He slammed his palm against the wall, the sting grounding him. "God, why didn't you just fucking say it that night? You had the chance! You were right there, you stupid coward."
His throat burned. He threw himself onto the bed, staring at the sketchbook on the desk. The faint outline of her face stared back, every line a reminder of years he'd kept silent.
"Do I tell her? Do I not? Fuck… what do I do?" His voice broke, softer now. "What if she laughs? What if she looks at me like I'm nothing? What if she chooses him?"
For a long time, he just sat there, head in his hands. His body shook, not from weakness, but from the storm he couldn't contain.
Finally, almost a whisper: "I love you, Maya. Goddamn it, I fucking love you. And I don't care if it kills me."
The words left him like poison and salvation at once. He pressed his forehead to his knees, whispering again, softer but no less certain:
"I love you. Always. Even if you never love me back."
The silence swallowed everything, but his confession stayed, a vow carved into his chest — raw, furious, and unshakable.
Aryan's phone buzzed on the table — just a random notification, nothing important. Still, his eyes flicked toward it, his heart racing as if it might be Maya's name lighting up the screen.
It wasn't. And the disappointment burned.
He grabbed the phone anyway, thumb hovering over her chat. The empty screen stared back at him, her last message still unread. Just a simple "College's closed, can you believe it?" Nothing heavy. Nothing that should've broken him. But it did.
He typed fast, without thinking:
"Maya, I—"
He froze. The words blurred. His thumb hovered over send. His pulse spiked.
"Fuck, no. I can't," he muttered, backspacing until the message vanished. He tossed the phone onto the bed like it had burned him.
He paced again, voice rising, raw.
"If I tell her… if I just spit it out… what happens? She looks at me different? She pulls back? And Aveed—fuck, Aveed. He'll know. He'll feel it. He'll see it in my face."
His laugh came out sharp, bitter. "And what then? We're not a trio anymore. We're just two people staring at each other while the third one gets cut out. Who the fuck wants that?"
He pressed his palms against the wall, forehead resting there. His voice dropped, softer, cracked:
"Maya deserves to know… but Aveed doesn't deserve betrayal. He's not just some guy. He's… him. The one person who gets me without me saying shit. The one person I'd take a bullet for."
His fists clenched. He pulled back, punching the wall once, not hard enough to break skin, just enough to feel the sting. "And I love them both. God, I fucking love them both."
Silence.
Aryan slid down against the wall, knees pulled up, phone buzzing again faintly on the bed. He didn't check. Couldn't. He just sat there, chest heavy, whispering the truth he'd never dared say out loud until now:
"I'm in love with my best friend… and I'm in love with the person whom my best friend might love too. And I don't know which pain is worse — telling the truth, or living a lie."
Aryan's phone buzzed across the table. He almost ignored it until he saw her name glowing on the screen. Maya.
With a groan, he picked up.
"Hello?" His voice came out rough, guarded.
"Took you long enough," Maya teased instantly. "What, did you forget how to answer your phone?"
He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see it. "Maybe I was busy."
"Busy brooding?" she shot back, laughter laced in her voice.
Aryan pinched the bridge of his nose, but the corner of his lips twitched. "You're impossible."
"And you love it," she replied without missing a beat. "Anyway, coffee tomorrow. Four o'clock. Don't say no."
"Not happening," Aryan said flatly.
"Come on, Aryan. You owe me. Last time you ditched me for—what was it again? Oh right, sulking in silence."
"Wow," he muttered. "Thanks for the sympathy."
"Anytime," Maya said brightly. "Now stop being dramatic and meet me. I promise I won't make you pay for my extra slice of cake this time."
He sighed, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."
"So… I'll see you at four?" she pushed, her tone sing-song.
"…Fine," he grumbled. "But only because you won't shut up otherwise."
Maya's laugh spilled through the line, warm and familiar. "Knew you couldn't resist me."
Aryan froze for a split second, throat tight, but covered it with a scoff. "You wish."
"Goodnight, broody boy," she teased before hanging up.
Maya's phone buzzed, and she snatched it up, thumb hovering over Aveed's name. She took a deep breath before calling.
"Hey," she said, voice bright but careful.
"Hey. Everything okay?" Aveed's tone was calm but carried an undercurrent of tension, the kind that made her stomach flutter.
"Yeah… sort of," Maya replied. "Aryan… he agreed. Coffee tomorrow, four o'clock."
There was a silence so heavy Aveed could hear it in his own chest. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"He… agreed?" he asked slowly, carefully, as if saying it aloud might make it real.
"Yes!" Maya laughed, though a slight nervous edge betrayed her. "I couldn't believe it either. He actually said yes. So… coffee it is."
Aveed leaned back in his chair, heart thudding. Something about the ease in her voice—the casualness of it—felt like a punch to his chest. He remembered the day Aryan had run back, the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes lingered on Maya just a little too long. That brief, fleeting expression… it said more than words ever could.
Maybe… maybe Aryan liked her.
Aveed swallowed hard, trying to mask the rising panic. "Right… okay. That's… good. Really," he said, forcing his voice to sound steady.
Maya hesitated. "You sound weird. You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Aveed said, but his chest tightened in a way that betrayed him. "Just… thinking. You two… have fun tomorrow."
He ended the call after a polite pause, but his mind refused to settle. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling. Images of Aryan's face—tight jaw, clenched fists, that faint shadow of hurt in his eyes—kept surfacing. The thought of Aryan liking Maya, really liking her, gnawed at him relentlessly.
"What if…" Aveed whispered to himself, voice barely audible. "What if he's… more serious than I thought? What if he actually… cares?"
He shook his head sharply, trying to dismiss it, but the doubts lingered like smoke. He couldn't stop replaying every little interaction: the way Aryan had paused when Maya mentioned coffee, the fleeting glance that had said everything without words, the way he'd run back that day as if pulled by an invisible thread.
Aveed's chest tightened. He hated the thought of being wrong, hated the way his mind twisted simple gestures into confessions. But deep down, a small, nagging voice told him he wasn't wrong. Aryan's feelings were there, buried beneath layers of guilt, confusion, and fear—and they were probably stronger than anyone realized.
Meanwhile, across the city, Aryan sat on his bed, fingers brushing the screen of his phone but never touching it. He hadn't called Maya—hadn't texted either—but he couldn't stop thinking about tomorrow. Coffee. Just coffee. That's all.
Yet the thought made his chest squeeze. Maya's laugh, Aveed's careful, quiet presence, the way everything had felt so fragile the night before… it all swirled together in a storm he couldn't untangle.
"Fuck," he muttered, leaning back against the wall. "Why does this feel like it's going to hurt no matter what I do?"
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Aveed's face when he finally realized Aryan's feelings—just a flash, a flicker, but enough to make his heart thud in a new, unfamiliar rhythm.
Aveed, on the other hand, paced in his room, running through every possibility, every worst-case scenario. Aryan liking Maya wasn't just a thought—it was a knife twisting slowly in his chest.
"What do I do?" Aveed whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Do I say something? Or do I wait? If he likes her… what happens to me? And if I say nothing… what if I regret it?"
He stopped pacing and sank onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Aryan's face, so full of intensity and confusion, hovered in his mind. He remembered the small moments—the hesitation before speaking, the almost-imperceptible glances. They were clues, little signs he couldn't ignore.
A slow, bitter smile tugged at Aveed's lips. "Damn it," he muttered. "I don't want to care this much. But I do. And now… I just have to watch. I just have to wait. And hope I'm ready for whatever happens next."
Across the city, Aryan finally picked up his phone and let it rest against his chest, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was coming, and he knew it would change everything.
The coffee shop buzzed with morning chatter, the scent of roasted beans filling the air. Aryan leaned against the counter, pretending to scroll through his phone, though his eyes kept flicking to the door.
When Maya walked in, her hair bouncing with each step and a grin that could light up the darkest corner, Aryan's chest tightened. He straightened, trying to act casual.
"Finally decided to show up," Maya teased as she slid into the seat across from him.
"Yeah, yeah," Aryan muttered, fighting a smirk. "Traffic was brutal. Or maybe it was the perilous journey from my bed to here. You know… near-death experience and all."
Maya rolled her eyes. "Wow, dramatic. I didn't know I was seeing a Shakespearean tragedy for coffee."
"Not seeing," Aryan said quickly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Just… coffee. Nothing more."
"Sure, sure," Maya said, raising an eyebrow. "So… tell me, Mr. Broody, what's got you brooding today? Or is it just your default setting?"
"Maybe it's permanent," Aryan said, shrugging. "Might be contagious too. Careful, you might catch it."
Maya laughed, the sound spilling like sunlight across the table. "Oh, I'm not scared of your brooding. I can handle it… for a slice of cake."
Aryan groaned. "You're impossible. You know that?"
"And you love it," she replied immediately, grinning.
He rolled his eyes, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe I do."
They ordered their coffee and settled at a small corner table. Maya chatted animatedly about her week off, teasing Aryan about his "mysterious moods," pointing out cute barista mistakes as if they were hilarious.
Aryan laughed more than he expected, though he kept trying to act unimpressed. When Maya leaned back, sipping her latte, he caught her gaze and didn't look away immediately.
"So… tell me honestly," Maya said, leaning forward. "Are you actually enjoying this… or just pretending to make me feel better?"
Aryan froze for a split second, then shrugged casually. "Maybe I'm enjoying it. Maybe I'm just… okay with being tortured by your incessant chatter."
Maya laughed, poking him lightly in the arm. "Tortured? Poor guy. I should feel bad."
"You shouldn't," Aryan said softly, his tone slipping just enough to hint at sincerity. "Because… it's not all torture."
Maya blinked, sensing something different in his voice. "Oh?"
"Mostly torture," he added quickly, smirking. "But… the kind I can handle."
Maya rolled her eyes, smiling, but her heart skipped. "You're ridiculous."
"And you," Aryan said, leaning back slightly, "are… unforgettable."
Maya choked on her laugh, nearly spilling her coffee. "Smooth talker. Practicing, huh?"
"Not really," he said, shrugging, pretending to be casual. "Just… talking to you."
She paused, eyes narrowing playfully. "Hm. You're dropping lines, aren't you?"
"Maybe," Aryan said with a half-smile, not denying it, letting the words hover just long enough to tease without revealing too much.
They continued their playful banter, sipping coffee, joking, and laughing, but beneath it all, Aryan's subtle glances lingered
His glances held a little longer, smiles a little softer, and every tease carried a weight Maya didn't quite notice.
It was fun. Light. Easy. And just… a little charged.
The coffee shop was quieter now, a soft hum of chatter and clinking cups filling the space. Aryan stirred his drink absentmindedly, glancing at Maya as she took a bite of her pastry.
"So… spill," Maya said, leaning back in her chair, grin teasing. "What's on your mind, Mr. Broody? You've been awfully quiet."
Aryan hesitated, then let out a small sigh. "Okay… so, I need your opinion on something. Hypothetical, of course."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. Go on."
"Okay," Aryan said, fiddling with his spoon. "Hypothetically… your friend likes a girl. And… his best friend likes the same girl too. Now your friend's all torn—does he tell her how he feels? Or does he step back for the best friend?"
Maya blinked, trying not to laugh. "Ohhh… that's messy. So, what should your friend do?"
Aryan leaned back, shrugging. "Hypothetically? Honestly… he doesn't want to hurt anyone. But also, he can't lie to himself about how he feels."
Maya's grin widened. "Classic dilemma. Okay… let's see. Hypothetically, if I were your friend's therapist, I'd say… he should… figure out what he wants first. Then act accordingly. But carefully. No drama. Ideally."
Aryan smirked, a little sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah… Hypothetically, that makes sense. Just… don't ruin the friendship. But also… maybe don't wait too long. Feelings don't stay hidden forever."
Maya laughed, nudging him lightly. "Hypothetically, your friend sounds like he's overthinking. Again."
"Hypothetically?" Aryan shot back, voice teasing, "maybe. But feelings are tricky, even in hypothetical scenarios."
Maya leaned back, watching him with a soft smile. "Sounds like your friend's in for a wild ride. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
Aryan raised his hands, mock surrendering. "Totally. Hypothetically, he should maybe… survive it. That's the main goal."
They laughed, and the air between them was light and easy. But Maya noticed the little pauses, the way Aryan's eyes lingered on certain words, the slight smirk that hinted he was enjoying the conversation more than he let on.
Even in a purely hypothetical dilemma, Aryan's subtle hints of sincerity and care peeked through.
The coffee cups had gone cold, but neither of them seemed to care. Maya was laughing at some random thought, gesturing animatedly with her fork, while Aryan tried—and mostly failed—not to grin at her energy.
"So, back to your hypothetical friend," Maya said, leaning on her elbow. "If his friend likes someone… like, really likes someone… should he just… give up?"
Aryan leaned back, fingers tapping against his mug. "Hypothetically? Maybe. But… Hypothetically, giving up isn't the same as losing. Sometimes… you just have to be brave enough to see where it goes."
Maya blinked, sipping her latte. "Brave enough, huh? That sounds… intense for a hypothetical scenario. Your friend must be some kind of drama king."
Aryan smirked, voice lowering slightly. "Hypothetically, yes. Drama is part of the fun. And the risk. Makes it… memorable."
Maya giggled. "Memorable for him, maybe. Or for everyone else caught in the mess."
"Exactly," Aryan said, letting his eyes linger on her just a moment longer than necessary, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Hypothetically, everyone's lives are better for the chaos. Makes things interesting."
Maya shrugged, completely missing the subtle hint. "Alright, so Hypothetical Friend needs courage and chaos. Got it. Anything else?"
Aryan leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping into mock-seriousness. "Hypothetically… maybe he should pay attention to the little things. How she laughs. The way she reacts. Tiny hints. Could be the difference between… nothing and everything."
Maya laughed loudly, nearly spilling her coffee. "Whoa, that got philosophical fast. You sure you're just giving advice for a hypothetical friend?"
Aryan's lips twitched into a small smile. "Hypothetically, yes. Purely theoretical. But… sometimes theoretical hints can be surprisingly… accurate."
Maya just nodded, oblivious, and waved him off. "Okay, Hypothetical Friend. You've given me enough to work with. I'll make sure he doesn't mess it up. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
Aryan leaned back, pretending to sip his coffee casually, but the slight twitch of his smirk betrayed him. His hints were still hidden, tucked in playful words and glances, completely invisible to Maya—but to him, this tiny game of hypotheticals was a way to speak a little truth without ever saying her name.
For now, the two of them laughed and teased, the coffee shop alive with their easy banter. And Aryan knew that even if Maya didn't see the hints, the words, the pauses, the smiles… they were his way of keeping a small piece of his feelings alive, just under the surface.
The coffee cups were empty now, and the barista's soft hum of cleaning in the background signaled it was time to wrap up. Maya stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Okay, Hypothetical Friend, I think we've solved your entire love-life crisis for today," she said, laughing.
Aryan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Hypothetically, yes. Mission accomplished. Crisis… averted. World saved."
Maya rolled her eyes. "World saved, huh? All in a day's work for you. And you still managed to look broody while doing it."
"Broody is my brand," Aryan said, standing and grabbing his jacket. "Part of the charm."
Maya laughed, gathering her bag. "You're ridiculous. I don't know why I hang out with you."
"Hypothetically speaking?" Aryan asked, holding the door open for her. "Because you secretly love it."
Maya paused, glancing at him with a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Hypothetically, maybe. But don't let it get to your head."
Aryan's fingers brushed hers briefly as she passed, a small, almost imperceptible touch. Maya didn't notice—or at least didn't react—but Aryan felt it. His smirk lingered a fraction longer, and he leaned slightly closer as they stepped outside.
"So," Maya said, squinting against the sunlight, "coffee date over. Same time next week?"
"Hypothetically?" Aryan asked, keeping the playful tone. "Absolutely. Totally hypothetical."
Maya laughed, looping her arm through his as they walked toward the street. "Hypothetically, I think Hypothetical Friend owes me a real slice of cake next time."
Aryan grinned, letting her pull him along. "Hypothetically… I wouldn't dream of arguing."
The air was light, the banter easy, and though Maya remained completely oblivious to the subtle hints in his words, gestures, and glances, Aryan's heart kept whispering truths he wouldn't dare say aloud.
Hypothetically… everything was perfect