The neon lights of the city blurred into streaks of cold blue and aggressive crimson as Aryan drove. Beside him sat Jannat, her head leaning against the window, her breath fogging the glass. To anyone looking in, they were the perfect couple. To Aryan, she was the crown jewel of a plan ten years in the making.
To understand why Aryan was about to break a heart he claimed to cherish, you have to understand the ghost that sat in the backseat: Zaid.
Aryan and Zaid had been inseparable since kindergarten. They were the kind of friends who shared lunchboxes, secrets, and eventually, dreams. But Zaid was the golden boy—charismatic, wealthy, and effortless. Aryan was the shadow, the "loyal sidekick" whose father worked for Zaid's family.
The shift happened in their final year of university. Zaid had fallen for a girl, a whirlwind romance that ended in a bitter, public betrayal. Zaid, fragile and impulsive, blamed Aryan for not "protecting" his interests, leading to a fallout that resulted in Aryan's father being fired and disgraced over a false accusation of theft planted by Zaid's family to "teach the boy a lesson."
Aryan's father died a broken man six months later. Aryan didn't cry at the funeral. He just started calculating.
Aryan knew Zaid's greatest weakness: his obsession with "the one that got away." Years later, when Aryan crossed paths with Jannat, he didn't see a woman; he saw a weapon.
Jannat was ethereal—kind-hearted, a talented painter with eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the tide. Most importantly, she was the cousin Zaid had always admired from afar but could never reach due to a family feud.
Aryan spent two years becoming the man Jannat couldn't help but love. He curated his personality like an art gallery. He learned her favorite obscure poets, he showed up with lilies when she was sad, and he listened—truly listened—to her dreams of opening a gallery in Paris.
He made her love him. And then, the unthinkable happened: He fell for her.