In the bustling city of Lucknow, there lived two best friends named Avyansh Malhotra and Hrida Raichand. One fateful day, something happened that changed their friendship forever.
Hate was a strong word, but the animosity between them was palpable.
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The moment I heard the soft knock and the voice call out, "Ma'am, your order," my heart sank.
I knew it was him even before I turned to look. Mr. Malhotra.
The last person I wanted to see, especially now. I stood up abruptly, my feet leading me towards the sanctuary of my room before my mind could catch up with what was happening.
I didn't want to face him—not now, not ever.
The sound of his voice followed me, tugging at my resolve as he said, "Hrida, please, at least have it. I'm going."
His words, so gentle, so concerned, felt like tiny daggers, pricking at the walls I had built around myself.
But I refused to let them break through. He didn't deserve that power over me anymore.
I kept walking, refusing to acknowledge him, refusing to let myself fall into the trap of his care, his concern.
I reached my room, desperate to close the door on the world, on him.
But then I felt it—a firm but gentle grip on my wrist.
The heat of his touch startled me, pulling me back into the reality I was trying so hard to escape.
"Don't starve yourself, just have it," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
I looked at him then, and for a split second, the weight of his gaze made my chest tighten.
But I quickly shook it off, yanking my hand away from his hold as if his touch had burned me.
"Don't dare to touch me," I spat, my voice laced with anger and bitterness.
I couldn't allow him to see the cracks, the vulnerability lurking just beneath the surface.
With a glare, I grabbed the pizza and cold drink from his hands, my skin still tingling where his fingers had been.
Without another word, I turned and stormed into my room, slamming the door behind me.
Who the hell does he think he is? The audacity! Hnnn!!
I fumed as I shoved a slice of pizza into my mouth, chewing furiously as if each bite could somehow erase his presence from my life.
But the anger, the frustration—it simmered just below the surface, refusing to be pushed down.
He's a fucking bastard, I thought bitterly.
I won't talk to him. Not now, not ever.
But as I sat there, the taste of cheese and regret mingling on my tongue, I couldn't stop the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. Anger. Hurt. Confusion.
Why did he have to care? Why did he have to show up now, when I was barely holding it together?
I swallowed another bite, trying to focus on the pizza, on anything but him.
