"She was his greatest rival. His first obsession. And the only one who ever got away."
They were never meant to get along. She was the golden girl, the one who always challenged him-his biggest competition on the field and the only person who saw th...
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ARIN'S P O V
The mansion's silence was unsettling as the movie's muffled sounds echoed from the walls. The tension in the air felt heavier than the horror flick playing on the screen. I sat stiffly in the dimly lit home theater, sandwiched between Mairah and him.
Mairah had drifted off into a peaceful slumber within minutes of the movie starting. Typical. Meanwhile, the man on my other side-Mr. Arzen-seemed completely unfazed by the eerie suspense on screen. His calm demeanor only added to my irritation. How could someone sleep through this?
The phone buzzed. A sharp, vibrating hum broke the eerie stillness. It came from his jacket, resting in the seat between us. The screen glowed faintly in the darkness, flashing the name MOM.
I hesitated. My heart quickened. The phone kept buzzing. He wasn't stirring. Not even an inch. Seriously?
"Arzen," I whispered sharply, leaning slightly toward him. No response.
I nudged his arm lightly. Nothing.
Frustration bubbled to the surface. With a huff, I reached over, my hand fumbling with his jacket. His warmth lingered on the smooth leather, and for a moment, my nerves made me pause. Shaking the hesitation away, I carefully retrieved the phone.
The glowing screen illuminated my face as the call disconnected, leaving me staring at it. My eyes shifted, landing on the wallpaper.
And then I froze.
My breath hitched as the blood drained from my face.
The image was of a young boy-no older than his teens-with messy dark hair and striking, unforgettable blue eyes. He held a tennis racket, mid-laugh, standing in the golden haze of what looked like an evening sun.
My fingers trembled as I stared at the photo. A whirlwind of emotions churned in my chest. It couldn't be. No, it shouldn't be.
But it was.
The boy in the photo wasn't just a random figure from Arzen's past-it was him. Arzen Shah.
Memories clawed their way to the surface, each more vivid than the last. The boy I once knew. The boy who disappeared. The boy who left scars so deep they still ached.
I glanced at him, still slumped in his chair, his jaw relaxed, his breathing steady. It was as though nothing in the world could disturb him. But my world was unraveling right here and now.
I bit my lip hard, trying to quell the storm inside me. How could this man-the one sitting just inches away-be the same person from my past? How could fate be so cruel as to bring him back into my life like this?
My eyes flicked back to the phone screen, my fingers gripping it tightly. The resemblance was undeniable. Those piercing blue eyes, that mischievous grin-they had haunted my dreams for years.
The realization hit me like a freight train, and I sank back into the recliner, my body stiff as if paralyzed. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the movie's faint soundtrack.
Arzen Shah.
The name, the face, the memories-they all came rushing back with a force I wasn't prepared for.
What was he doing here? Why now? And why, of all people, was he engaged to my best friend?
I risked another glance at him. His peaceful, unbothered expression sent a jolt of anger and confusion through me. Did he recognize me? Did he know who I was? Or was this some cruel twist of fate where only I remembered?
The phone buzzed again in my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. This time, I didn't even look at the screen. Carefully, I placed the phone back in his jacket, my fingers trembling slightly as I withdrew.
My mind was racing, tangled in questions without answers. I couldn't focus on the movie, the room, or even Mairah's soft snores beside me. All I could think about was the boy with the tennis racket, the laughter we once shared, and the betrayal that had shattered it all.
And now, here he was, sitting beside me as if none of it had ever happened.
The movie flickered on, the sound of a jump scare jolting me back to the present. But the real horror wasn't on the screen-it was sitting right next to me.
And I wasn't sure if I was ready to face him. Or the truth.
𐦍༘⋆𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
My brain recalls wallpaper-the boy with striking blue eyes, a tennis racket in hand. It was him. Arzen Shah.
I glanced at him, his calm, sleeping face infuriatingly peaceful. Was this all a coincidence, or was he here for a reason? A dark, gnawing thought crept into my mind: what if he was back to finish what he started?
My chest tightened as questions raced through my mind. Was his reappearance an accident, or was it a deliberate move to unravel my life again?
Arzen Shah wasn't just a figure from my past-he was a storm. And I had no idea if I could survive it this time.
