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Chapter 14 - CHAPTER 14 SLIPPING DEEPER

Aryan lay on his bed, one arm dangling off the side, the other covering his face. His laptop screen was still open from hours ago, frozen on some random movie he wasn't even watching.

"Fuck," he muttered into the pillow, groaning. "Why the hell am I thinking about her again?"

He flipped over, grabbing his phone. The group chat was silent for now, just a couple of memes Maya had spammed earlier. He stared at her last message — a silly gif of someone tripping over nothing. He caught himself smiling like an idiot.

"Goddamn it," he whispered, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair. His cheeks were warm, and that pissed him off even more. Seriously, Aryan? Blushing over a fucking meme?

He typed and deleted three different replies, each one dumber than the last. Finally, he threw his phone onto the bed.

"Nope. Not doing this. Not turning into some lovesick idiot."

But his chest didn't agree. Every time he thought of Maya's laugh — that bubbly, unfiltered sound — it was like a hit straight to the ribs. He leaned back against the wall, exhaling sharply.

"This is bad. This is really fucking bad," he muttered.

His brain kept replaying yesterday's coffee meet. The way she had teased him, imitating his dramatic hand gestures. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed at her own joke. The way she had leaned just a little too close when she passed him her cup.

Aryan buried his face in his hands. "Shit, shit, shit."

He could feel the heat crawling up his neck again, the kind that made him want to punch himself just to stop smiling. I can't like her. I can't. She's Maya. My best fucking friend.

But the more he denied it, the harder it hit. His chest tightened, his stomach twisted, and his damn cheeks refused to cool down.

The phone buzzed again. A new notification from Maya — just a dumb sticker this time, a cat with heart eyes. Aryan groaned, flopping back onto the bed.

"Are you kidding me?!" he muttered to the ceiling. "Don't send me heart eyes, woman. My brain can't handle this shit."

He rolled onto his side, hugging the pillow tight. His heart wouldn't slow down.

I'm screwed, he thought, face hot as hell. Completely, hopelessly screwed.

Aryan lay sprawled on his bed, headphones tossed aside, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His chest felt like it was carrying two different heartbeats at once — one steady, calm, and the other quick, erratic, like it didn't know where to land.

Maya.

The way she laughed yesterday at his stupid joke still echoed in his ears. She had this habit of tilting her head back slightly when she found something really funny, eyes shining, like she forgot the whole world for a second. That laugh — it wasn't just a sound. It was addictive.

Aryan pressed a hand against his face, groaning softly.

"Fuck, man… why the hell do I blush like a fucking school kid every damn time?"

Because it wasn't just laughter anymore. It was the way her hair brushed her cheek when she leaned forward, the way she teased him with that mock glare, the way she said his name when she was pretending to be annoyed. Every little thing about Maya had started sticking under his skin.

And the worst part? He didn't even want this. Or at least he told himself he didn't.

"She's my friend," he whispered to the empty room, as if saying it out loud would make it true. "She's… Aveed's friend too. This is messy. I don't want messy."

But his chest betrayed him, burning whenever she popped into his mind.

His thoughts drifted back — uninvited — to that afternoon in the café. The stupid, hypothetical scenario he had brought up.

A friend likes a girl. But the girl's best friend likes her too. What should the friend do?

He had said it casually, pretending it was some random example, joking, laughing like it was nothing. But inside? His hands had been clammy, his heart punching his ribs, and every word had been laced with his own damn truth.

Now the memory made him roll over, pressing his face into the pillow. "Why the fuck did I say that out loud?"

It wasn't guilt that hit him. Not sadness either. It was… confusion.

Because he wasn't sure anymore what bothered him more — the fact that he might've exposed himself in front of Aveed… or the fact that Maya didn't even realize. She just laughed it off. Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Aryan exhaled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Goddamn it, Aveed must've caught on. He's sharp as hell with shit like that."

That thought made him sit up, biting his lip. He didn't know if Aveed knowing changed anything. Did he even care? Should he care? Because strangely, it didn't hurt the way he thought it would. There was no heaviness, no broken feeling. Just… uncertainty.

Almost like, for the first time, he wasn't scared of being compared. He wasn't sad. Just… caught in between.

What he did know — painfully, embarrassingly well — was that every time he saw Maya's name pop up on his phone, his stomach flipped. And every time she laughed, he wanted to be the reason again.

"Fuck this," Aryan muttered under his breath, grabbing his pillow and throwing it across the room. It hit the chair with a dull thump.

But then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head, cheeks warm even though no one was around. "Goddamn it… I think I'm screwed. I really am."

He leaned back, smiling despite the chaos in his chest.

And for once, he wasn't sad about it.

Aryan's smile lingered in the silence of his room, but miles away, another phone buzzed.

Maya flopped onto her bed, hair still damp from a shower, scrolling through her playlist when the screen lit up.

Aveed calling.

Her lips curled without her realizing. She swiped to answer.

"Wow… look who remembered I exist."

Aveed's laugh poured through the speaker, low and easy. "You say that like you weren't waiting for this call, Maya."

She scoffed. "Please. I've got better things to do than talk to you."

"Oh yeah? Like what? Counting your shampoo bottles?"

She bit back a laugh. "Shut up."

There was a beat of silence, and then Aveed's tone softened, just enough to make her heartbeat skip.

"You sound tired. Long day?"

"Not really," she said, lying back against her pillows. "Just… noisy in my head, you know? Too many thoughts."

"Careful," he teased, "you don't want to lose the two brain cells you're working with."

"Asshole."

He chuckled, and she could hear the grin in his voice. The banter felt natural, effortless — like tugging on an old thread that never snapped.

Then Maya, half-teasing, half-testing, said:

"Hey, remember those 'what if' situations Aryan brought up at the café? The whole friend-likes-a-girl-but-best-friend-does-too thing?"

Aveed's chest tightened instantly. His fingers froze around the phone.

"Yeah," he said, a little too quickly. "What about it?"

Maya shrugged, twirling a strand of hair. "I don't know. He's weird sometimes. Makes you wonder if those 'hypotheticals' are ever really hypothetical, right?"

She laughed lightly, like it was nothing. But Aveed didn't laugh.

Inside, his pulse spiked. His mind replayed Aryan's flushed face, the nervous way he'd said it, the panic in his eyes when Maya had been with him the other night. It wasn't just a random question. Aveed knew.

But he forced a smirk into his voice. "Maybe Aryan just reads too many bad romance novels."

Maya giggled. "Yeah, maybe. But honestly… sometimes I think he's hiding something. He gets so awkward when it's about love."

Aveed's grip tightened around the phone. He wanted to ask her — Do you feel it? Do you see him? Or is it just me drowning in these stupid questions?

Instead, he leaned into the playfulness again, because it was safer.

"Well, if you ever need a guy who's not awkward, you've got me."

Maya rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. "Oh, right. Mr. Smooth-Talker. Please, you'd trip over your own ego if you tried."

Aveed laughed, masking the storm underneath. "At least I'd fall stylishly."

She shook her head, laughing with him, not realizing how badly he was holding himself together.

Because when the call finally ended, and the screen went dark, Aveed just sat there. Staring. Thinking.

Aryan's voice. Aryan's fear. Maya's laugh. Maya's comfort.

Everything tangled in his head, pulling him in directions he didn't know how to follow.

The line clicked dead, leaving only the faint hum of silence in her room. Maya tossed her phone onto the bed, but her hand lingered on it for a second longer than she'd admit.

She buried her face into her pillow, groaning.

"Ugh, why am I smiling like an idiot?"

Her cheeks were hot, her heart still buzzing with leftover laughter. Every line of Aveed's ridiculous banter replayed in her head like some stupid reel she couldn't skip.

Maya pulled her blanket over her face. "God, why did he have to say it like that?" she muttered, kicking her feet lightly against the mattress.

She wasn't supposed to be this flustered. They always teased, always joked — it wasn't new. But something about tonight had felt… different. Like his voice carried something more than just playfulness.

Her chest fluttered. She hugged her pillow tighter.

"Get a grip, Maya. It's just Aveed. You've known him forever. He's just—"

Her words cut off when she caught herself smiling again. Wide. Too wide.

She sat up suddenly, tugging her hair back, shaking her head.

"Nope. Not happening. Not catching feelings. Not for him," she whispered fiercely, even as her pulse raced in direct betrayal.

But the blush on her cheeks told a different story.

 

Aveed dropped his phone onto the table, the screen dimming instantly, but her voice kept playing in his head — light, teasing, unbothered.

She had laughed when she told him. Hypothetically… Aryan's friend likes a girl. But the girl's best friend likes her too. So, what should the friend do? She'd said it with that careless sparkle in her voice, like it was just some silly puzzle Aryan had tossed her way.

But to Aveed, it hadn't sounded silly at all.

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering, "Fuck…" under his breath. His chest felt too tight.

Why would Aryan even say that? And why would Maya think it was just a joke?

Aveed got up, pacing the room. His head was buzzing, every thought colliding with the next.

Aryan. Maya. Him.

That stupid hypothetical.

It wasn't hypothetical. He could feel it in his gut. Aryan meant every word, but Maya… she hadn't noticed. She'd been oblivious, smiling as she told the story like it was some dumb inside joke.

And Aveed—Aveed had laughed it off too, just to match her tone, even though inside, his whole body was screaming.

Now, the silence of his room pressed against him, every echo of her laugh twisting into something heavier.

"Does he… love her?" Aveed whispered to himself, heart thudding. "Or is it just a crush? And if he does… then what the hell am I doing?"

He collapsed onto his chair, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

He knew how he felt. Every call, every smirk, every brush of her voice against his ears… it got under his skin. The way she teased him tonight, the warmth behind her laugh — it wasn't casual anymore. Not for him.

Do I love her? The question cut through his chest again. He swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn't know what love was supposed to feel like, but if it meant this restless ache, this constant pull toward her, this fear of losing her to someone else — then maybe, yeah, maybe he did love her.

But the guilt was heavier than the want.

Aryan. His best friend. The guy who'd been at his side through every shitty and good day alike. And now… maybe Aryan was in love too.

Aveed buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Shit… I'm right in the middle, aren't I?"

The thought wouldn't leave him.

What if Aryan confessed first?

What if Maya actually felt something for Aryan?

What if she never once looked at Aveed the way he was looking at her now?

His chest tightened again. He wasn't sad — not exactly. Just stuck. Confused. A little terrified. Because the truth was simple but brutal: he wanted her. He wanted her badly.

And yet, a single question hammered through the storm in his head:

If loving her means hurting him… am I ready to carry that?

Aveed leaned back, eyes heavy but mind wide awake. No matter how calm he looked, the storm underneath wouldn't settle.

Maya smiling, Aryan's restless eyes, his own chest tightening every time her voice lingered.

Three hearts caught in one secret thread.

But when it finally snaps… who will it cut deepest—Aryan, Maya, or him?

 

 

 

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