Unwritten Chords

Chapter 28: beneath the facade.

Anya's POV

I had told Aunt Rhea I’d be staying at a friend’s house because of the storm.

She didn't mind honestly,she's chill,

Unlike my mom...meri ma ne toh Ghar sir pe liya hota. (My mom would've made a huge issue about it.)

The room felt too quiet, yet I couldn’t sleep. I lay in Ava’s bed, the guest room just across the hall unused, but I had chosen Ava’s. Maybe I’d get some stupid stories about Adrian, and she didn’t disappoint.

Ava pulled out a baby picture of Adrian—a chubby, red-faced boy, crying. His green eyes stood out in stark contrast to his little, flushed cheeks. He looked like a tiny, innocent doll.

That's the most innocent Adrian I've ever seen.

She also shared a story of how, at 14, Adrian had set the kitchen on fire while making instant noodles. I couldn’t help but laugh quietly as she recounted the chaos.

He had also cracked an egg on his head while doing a MasterChef trick. hilarious.

Ava had fallen asleep by the time the rain started again, but I was wide awake. The storm wasn’t just outside—it swirled inside my restless mind. I reached for my phone only to realize I had left it in Adrian’s room.

No way.

This stupid habit is going to get me killed one day.

Quietly, I stepped out of Ava’s room, closing the door softly behind me. I approached Adrian’s room, but before I could even touch the door handle, a tall figure appeared from the shadows.

My breath hitched when I saw those piercing sage green eyes in the dim light.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, heart racing.

"What are you doing?" he countered, his voice low, almost dangerous. "Planning to kill me in the middle of the night?"

Maar du? (Should I?)

I shot him a sharp glare, but it faltered when he leaned closer.

"My phone. It’s in your room," I said, steadying my voice.

"And?" he smirked.

"I want it," I answered simply.

"Tch, you shouldn’t be on screens this late," he said smugly.

"Let me go, Adrian," I demanded, attempting to push past him, but he pressed his hand to the wall, blocking me.

"Urgent? Texting a blondie?" His voice was razor-sharp.

I smirked. "Why do you care?"

"You’re in my house," he replied, voice cold yet possessive.

Toh? So what?

"That’s absurd," I scoffed, trying to sound unaffected.

"Nothing’s absurd. Go back and sleep like a good girl," he said, his smirk growing.

I crossed my arms, glaring up at him. "I won’t."

"You will," he said, almost confident of it.

"What if I don’t?"

"Stop being stubborn," he warned, his tone sharper this time.

"Stop being annoying," I shot back.

"You don’t want to sleep?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

"I can’t," I admitted, my voice quiet.

"Why?"

"I’m not familiar with that bed."