Maya's laughter faded down the street, dragging Kian's voice with it, until the quiet settled around Reyhaan like a deadline. He caught Aria's eye. Before his nerve could fail, he spoke.

"Walk with me?"

She looked surprised, then nodded. "Around the block?"

"Yeah."

They fell into step on the pavement, streetlights casting long, stretching shadows ahead of them. The traffic was a distant murmur in this part of the city.

Reyhaan focused on his breathing. Just ask. Keep it casual.

"Your parents... they're easy to talk to," he started, the words tumbling out a beat too fast.

"They liked you," Aria said, brushing hair from her face. "My dad will probably Google your discography tonight."

He smiled. "I hope he likes the old stuff."

The conversation meandered through safe territory—pancakes, Maya's dramatics, Kian's laugh—but every word felt like filler, a way to delay the jump.

Ahead, an elderly couple crossed the street, fingers laced together, a small dog tugging at the lead. Their shared laughter drifted back, fragile but sure.

Reyhaan saw Aria's lips curve—a small, fleeting smile she tried to hide.

"Why'd you smile?" he asked.

She glanced at him, then back at the path. "Just thinking... how strange it is. That someone can appear in your life and fit so seamlessly. Like they were always meant to be there."

The admission landed heavily in his chest. Seamless. That was exactly it.

"And you wonder if they even see you the same way," he replied, testing the water.

Her gaze flicked to him—sharp, unreadable—before she nodded once and looked down.

They turned a corner. The hum of a passing car filled the gap, but the air between them felt charged now. Reyhaan's heart hammered.

He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the tension in his fingers.

This was it.

Kian was right.

"What's your thought on relationships?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Right now. In your life."

She blinked, surprised by the pivot.

"Experience? None, really. I was too focused on studies." She paused, slowing her pace. "But my thoughts? I'd want someone who understood my silences."

Silences.

He had given her silence, over and over.

He almost answered her then—almost told her he understood them better than his own music. Instead, he swallowed the confession. "That makes sense."

She turned to him, eyes searching. "And you?"

"I've had admirers. It comes with... this." He gestured vaguely at himself, the band, the fame. "But never a relationship. Not really. I didn't want to give that part of me to anyone until I was sure."

Her eyes softened. She understood.

They walked a few more steps in the quiet. Reyhaan forced himself to push further, Kian's voice urging him on.

"Do you..." He kept his voice steady, though his pulse hammered. "Do you currently have someone you might want to be with? Or someone who fits what you're looking for?"

Aria faltered. Her step hitched, just enough for him to notice. Regret pricked him instantly.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer," he added quickly. "I was just curious."

But she did answer.

"There is someone."

The world seemed to stop. His feet kept moving, but everything inside him arrested.

"I've liked him for a long time," she said, her voice soft but certain. "But only recently... I've realized just how much. We've been friends for a while now."

Friends.

Something inside him stumbled. He forced a nod, plastering a practiced smile over the sudden hollow in his gut.

"Have you told him?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm afraid it would change our friendship. Maybe he doesn't feel the same. I don't... want to ruin what we already have."

The irony cut deep. He wanted to say, Me too. He wanted to tell her he was terrified of the exact same thing. But the courage dissolved. If she liked someone—a friend she'd known a long time—why hadn't she looked at him when she said it? Why did she sound so resigned?

She asked, "And you? Is there... someone you like?"

The question hung in the cool air.

Reyhaan looked at her. Her face was soft in the streetlamp's glow, open, waiting. Every instinct screamed at him to drop the truth at her feet. Say, It's you. It's always been you.

But her earlier words rang too loud. I've liked him for a long time.

He couldn't be the one to disturb what they already were. So he pulled up the only shield he had left.

"The one I like..." He forced the words out, each one feeling like glass in his throat. "...they already have their heart elsewhere."

Her lips parted. A flash of something—hurt? understanding?—passed through her eyes. Then she nodded. It felt like a door closing.

They reached her building in silence. The windows above glowed warm, a stark contrast to the cold settling in his chest.

"Thank you for walking with me," she said. Her voice was fragile.

"Always."

Their eyes held for a moment—hers searching, his guarded. She offered a faint smile. He returned it, though it didn't reach anywhere deep.

As she went inside, Reyhaan stayed rooted. The echo of her words circled him. Someone who understands my silences.

He turned away at last, hands buried deep in his pockets. He had understood her silence, yes.

But tonight, it seemed he had misread the words.

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Stir, clink. Stir, clink.

Aria stared at the swirling tea, her mind looping the conversation like a broken record.

The one I like... they already have their heart elsewhere.

He had said it so clearly. So surely.

"Aru," her mother's voice pulled her back to present. "Do you want to watch something before bed?"

Aria swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, Ma. I'm a little tired."

She left the mug on the counter and walked past them, murmuring a goodnight she didn't feel. Once inside her room, she shut the door. The latch clicked, sealing her in.

Her phone lay on the nightstand. She picked it up and tapped Maya's name before she could talk herself out of it.

"Hey!" Maya's voice burst through, breathless and bright. "Don't tell me you're calling to check if we got home safe, because yes, we did, and—"

"Maya."

Maya stopped instantly. "Aria? What's wrong?"

Aria sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her knees up. "We talked. Reyhaan and I." She pressed her thumb against the phone casing until it turned white. "He asked... if I liked someone."

"And... you said?"

Aria hesitated. There was anticipation in Maya's voice—an ease she wished she could summon for herself right now.

"I... I told him I did," Aria whispered. "I didn't say who."

"Okay. And?"

"And he said," Her throat tightened around the memory. "That he likes someone, too. But... she loves someone else."

Silence on the line.

"Aria," Maya said carefully. "You didn't ask... who?"

"I didn't have to. The way he said it... It was final. He sounded sad, Maya. Like he's been watching her love someone else for a long time."

"You don't know that."

"I know what rejection sounds like." Her voice cracked. "It's not me. If it were, he would have said something. If it were... he wouldn't say that. He wouldn't sound so sure that he has no chance."

"Aria," Maya said, her tone firming. "Do you hear yourself? You're both talking in riddles. You don't know."

"I know," Aria snapped, the hurt flaring hot and sharp. "I heard it in the way he said it, Maya. It felt like he was telling me without telling me."

Her breath left her mouth in long, shivering huffs. "It was like... the door shut before I even knew it was open." She whispered.

"You're doing that thing again—jumping to the ending before you've read the middle."

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"Aria, Reyhaan doesn't say things directly. You know that."

Aria stayed quiet. She wanted to believe Maya. She wanted to cling to that thread. But the heaviness in her chest dragged her down.

"It just... felt like I was standing right there, and still too far away."

Maya sighed, softer now.

"You two are going to hurt yourselves with all this silence." She paused. "Don't do this to yourself tonight. Just sleep, Aria. Okay?"

Absently, Aria nodded even though Maya couldn't see her and hung up. Her hand trembled slightly as she set the phone aside. Her gaze caught on the flannel shirt draped over her chair—Reyhaan's shirt. The one he'd wrapped around her shoulders months ago.

She turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut.

She had thought they were moving closer. But maybe, for all their shared quiet, she had been standing on the wrong side of a truth she hadn't dared to name.

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The apartment was too quiet.

Reyhaan sat by the floor-to-ceiling window. Below, the city smeared into streaks of orange and white, moving freely while he felt paralyzed.

In his palm, the tin box felt cold. Empty now. He rubbed his thumb over the dent at the corner. She had filled it with candies and care.

Now it just felt like a relic.

I've liked him for a long time.

The words echoed, mocking him. He had been so careful. So patient. And all this time, she had been looking past him at someone else.

He set the box down and unlocked his phone. He needed to hear a voice that wasn't his own thoughts.

He scrolled past Lucian, past Kian, stopping at the one name that always felt safe.

Ma.

He tapped call.

"Reyhaan?" Her voice was warm, instantly grounding. "It's late. Are you—"

"I know." The words fractured as they left his throat. "I just... didn't know who else to call."

"Tell me."

He stared at the tin box. "I think I messed up."

She paused, giving him space.

"Is this about Aria?"

His breath hitched. "I thought... if I gave it time, she'd see. But tonight... I think I lost it anyway." He gripped the phone. "She told me that she likes someone. And I just stood there like an idiot. There was no right time, was there? I was just scared."

For a while, the only sound was her soft breath in the receiver.

"Reyhaan," his mother said, her tone gentle but weighted. "I saw it in you long before you admitted it. The way you speak of her. I've never heard you sound like that."

"It feels like grieving a song I never wrote," he whispered, eyes burning.

"You don't know that yet," she countered. "Did she say a name?"

He froze. "...No."

"Then don't underestimate her. Or yourself. Love isn't always perfect sentences. Sometimes it's in the silences you both lean into."

Her words collided with his fear. Could he be wrong?

"And if I've already ruined it?"

"Then you try again. You've never given up on music when it breaks you. Why would this be different?"

The silence stretched, soft but unrelenting. A low hum started beneath his ribs—the urge to run back, to say what he should have said hours ago.

Then the phone buzzed against his ear.

Once. Twice.

Notifications flooding in. Silas. Ilan. Jay. Lucian.

A link sat at the center of the chat.

He pulled the phone away, tapping the link. The page loaded slowly, the spinning wheel mocking his rising panic.

Exclusive First Look: Reyhaan Isn't Alone as VYER Prepares Anniversary Album.

His blood ran cold.

He scrolled down.

The photo was grainy, taken from a distance, but clear enough. It was them. Him and Aria, standing on the curb outside her office. He was leaning in; she was smiling. It looked intimate. It looked like a secret.

"Reyhaan?" his mother's voice called, tinny and far away. "What happened?"

He couldn't answer. The world had tilted on its axis. It wasn't just a rumor. It was a narrative. They had taken a moment of friendship—a moment of him trying to protect her—and twisted it into a spectacle.

The worst part wasn't that they had seen him.

It was that they had seen her.

And he realized, with a sickening jolt, that while he had been worrying about his breaking heart, he had just shattered her privacy.

His phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number.

Then another.

He stood up, the chair scraping loud against the floor.

The right time didn't matter anymore.

Time had just run out.