When they're rivals in academics, leadership, sports, EVERYTHING and she asks
"Why is it me? Why do you always single me out?"
And He replies:
"Because you're the only person worth paying attention to"
***********************************************...
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As I step out of the room wearing Aryan's oversized hoodie, I notice his eyes widen for a moment, a subtle flicker of surprise passing through them. He seems a bit disoriented, but he quickly compose himself.
Aaryan clears his throat, his gaze traveling over me before he gestures towards the chair. "Um, sit," he mutters, his voice a tad hoarse.
I hesitate for a moment before cautiously taking a seat in the chair, a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity tugging at me. I watch as Aryan busies himself with something in the kitchen, his movements seeming a bit unusually flustered.
After a moment of silence as Aryan continues to prepare breakfast, I finally break the tension by asking, "So, what's for breakfast?"
His hands pause for a moment before he replies without looking at me, "French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon." I smile.
The fact that Aryan is not looking at me adds to my growing curiosity, and I can't help but wonder why he's acting so strangely. I take a moment to observe his demeanor, his back still towards me, and notice the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the way his hands fumble over the breakfast preparations.
As Aryan cracks an egg and places it in the pan, my phone suddenly rings, breaking the fragile silence. I glance at the screen and see a call coming through.
I see my dad's name flash on the screen, and my heart skips a beat. It's been a while since I've spoken to him, and I feel a pang of guilt for not contacting him sooner. I quickly rise from the chair and take a few steps away from Aryan, answering the call.
As I answer the call, I immediately hear my dad's voice, hoarse with tears and grief. "Vaanya,".
As my dad chokes out my name, saying it with such raw pain that it tears through me. I respond in a voice that betrays my growing dread. "Dad, what's wrong?"
Aryan, who had been watching the color drain from my face, approaches me, his concern evident in his eyes. "What happened?" he asks, his voice gentle, his hand reaching out to touch my arm.
I don't respond, my gaze fixed on a point in space, my phone falling from my hand as my dad's words finally sink in.
The phone slips from my grasp, falling to the ground with a soft thud. I remain frozen, my mind struggling to process the terrible news. Aryan's hand on my arm feels distant, like a faint touch in a dream.
Tears slowly brimming in my eyes, I raise my gaze to Aryan, my voice barely above a whisper. "My mom... she's gone."
Aryan looks at me in confusion, disbelief etched across his face. "What do you mean 'she's gone'?" he asks, his voice choked with concern.
