I shrug lightly. He looks…taken aback. “I’m touched, Sunshine,” he says softly.
I roll my eyes, but my voice softens. “Thank you. For everything.”
He hums. “You don’t have to.”
I open the door and step out. Then pause. Turn back. And ask the most stupid question I have ever asked in my life. “Do you want to come in?”
His eyes widen. So do mine. What did I just—“Never mind,” I start quickly.
“Yes,” he says immediately. Too fast. Too loud. I blink at him.
“Okay…” I say slowly. He parks the car properly and gets out, following me toward my building like this was always the plan.
And as we walk up the stairs, I can’t stop the question running through my head.
Why did I invite him?
I don’t do this. I don’t bring people into my space. I don’t let them cross that line. But today—Today I didn’t want to be alone. And that realization sits heavy and light at the same time. Inside, the apartment feels the same as always. Small. Quiet. Mine. He looks around casually, not judging, not commenting, just…taking it in. We end up sitting on the couch, and I put onStranger Thingswithout thinking. He watches it with me, but I can tell he’s not into it. His reactions are slightly delayed. His posture—a little stiff.
At one point, he flinches. I notice. Of course I notice. And for once—I don’t tease him. Because today, he didn’t tease me when I needed him not to. And somehow…I find it a little cute. Just a little. At some point, he gets up and wanders into the kitchen like he belongs there. I watch him from the couch, confused and amused. “What are you doing?” I call out.
“Saving your life,” he replies. I frown. A few minutes later, the smell hits me. Fried rice.
Simple. No vegetables. Probably because I don’t have any. He walks out with two plates, placing one in front of me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You need fiber,” he says casually. “This is unacceptable.”
I stare at him. Then at the food. Then back at him. “You went through my kitchen,” I say.
“I survived,” he replies.
I shake my head, but I take a bite. And—It’s good. Of course it is. “You’re lucky this tastes decent,” I mutter.
“I’m always lucky.” I roll my eyes. But I keep eating. And somewhere between the food, the show playing in thebackground, and his presence filling the quiet spaces something settles. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But this—This wasn’t what I expected when I walked into Evergreen.
I didn’t expect to become friends with him. I didn’t expect to open up. I didn’t expect to let him in. And I definitely didn’t expect to…not hate it. That thought scares me. Because I know myself.
I know how this ends. People leave. They always do. And yet as I sit there, watching him complain about my eating habits while stealing food from my plate—I don’t push him away. Not today. Even if it terrifies me. Even if I know I shouldn’t get used to this.
Even if I know this is exactly how it begins.
CHAPTER 27
ARYAN
When my phone rings in the middle of the night and Ishika’s name flashes across the screen, I genuinely think I’m dreaming. I’m half asleep, face buried in my pillow, one arm hanging off the bed, brain moving slower than basic human function. The room is dark except for the glow of the screen, her name bright against the black, and for two full seconds I just stare at it.
This has to be a dream. Because Ishika does not call me at midnight.
Actually, Ishika barely calls me in daylight unless it’s work related, delivered in that clipped, efficient tone that makes me feel like a contractor who has disappointed her. Yesterday she invited me into her apartment, fed me emotional vulnerability and let me feed her fried rice, and I still wasn’t sure what that meant for our actual status.
Were we friends?
Were we pretending?
Was I one bad joke away from exile?
I had no clue. The phone stops ringing. I squint at the ceiling. Then it rings again.
Okay.
