“It’s my life, my dream, my fight!” she shouts, shoving at my chest, but I don’t budge.
“And what am I, Sana?” I demand, locking my eyes onto hers. “Just some so-called friend you keep at arm’s length, because your pride pushes away the ones who want to help you, who actually care for you.”
She glares at me, her chest rising and falling. “It’s not about pride! It’s about dignity, about not feeling like some charity case!”
“Dignity?” I scoff, shaking my head. “You think my helping you takes away your dignity? Damn it, Sana, friendship isn’t about keeping score or proving who’s stronger. It’s about being there for someone when it matters. And whether you like it or not, you matter to me.”
She stiffens, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Why can’t you respect that I don’t need anyone’s pity, especially not yours?” she spits out.
Her words hit like a cold blade, but the fire inside me refuses to die down. Instead, I lean in closer. “Trust me, pity is the last thing I feel for you. And as for respect, I do respect you, Sana. More than you can imagine,” I say, my voice softer now,though the frustration still simmers. “But I won’t stand by and watch you struggle when I know I can help.”
She swallows hard, her gaze flickering with something—anger, hurt, maybe even fear.
“It’s my choice. I can handle things on my own,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
“And what about my choice, Sana?” I fire back. “My choice to be there for you.To care.Doesn’t that matter too?”
She looks away, her jaw clenched tight. “I don’t need saving,” she murmurs.
I cup her face gently, bringing her gaze back to mine. “And I’m not trying to save you,” I say, my voice low, but no less intense. “I just refuse to stand by and watch you struggle when I can do something about it.”
Her lips part, but no words come out. I can see the war in her eyes—the battle between pushing me away and pulling me closer.
For a moment, just a moment, I wonder which side will win.
Then she pleads, “Please, Aditya.”
The way she says my name—so soft, almost broken—makes something inside me tighten.
“I just can’t take this,” she adds.
I take a slow breath before replying. “Fine.”
She nods. “Thanks.”
I hate that she’s thanking me for stepping back from helping her. But there’s one thing I know for sure, even if I don’t say it aloud: this fight isn’t over. I’ll step back for now, but there’s no mistake—I’ll always look out for her.
Giving me a small smile, she turns to leave. Just as she reaches the door, I call out, “Sana.”
She pauses, looking over her shoulder at me.
“We’re good, right? I’m still your friend, right?”
For a beat, she simply watches me, making my pulse quicken. Then a wide grin tugs at her lips, and she nods. Without saying another word, she steps out, closing the door softly behind her.
I exhale, leaning against my desk, my hands gripping the edge as I stare at the door she just walked through.
God, this woman will drive me crazy.
I run a hand through my hair, frustration settling in as I push off the desk and drop into my chair. I grab the file, flipping it open, but before I can even read the first line, my phone rings on the desk.
Glancing down, I see the screen light up with Mom’s name.
I take a deep breath before picking up. “Hey, Mom.”
“Aditya, are you busy?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Never too busy for you. What’s up?”
