Aarav
I replay our conversation in my head as I walk home, the cool evening breeze brushing against my skin. A few days ago, I saw him sitting on a bench, acting like a polar bear—cold and distant. And today? He's all quokka-like, cheerful and persistent. I did not expect to meet him again. Honestly, I think he has a personality disorder. Or maybe something serious happened to him.
Well, why should I care? I'm not his friend or his relative.
By the time I reach home, the rich aroma of my mother's butter chicken fills the air, snapping me back to reality. My parents are already home, waiting for me to join them for dinner.
"You should let me know when you two are coming," I say, setting the butter chicken on the table.
"It's okay, we'll let you know next time," my mother replies casually.
I sigh, shaking my head. "Thanks for the butter chicken, though—my favorite."
She grins. "I know, that's why I made it. Now eat."
I only enjoy a proper meal when my parents visit; otherwise, it's always cup noodles. After dinner, they bid me good night and head to bed. I sit at my study table, flipping through my syllabus, but the mere sight of it irritates me.
The next morning, I wake up to the familiar sounds of my mother cooking breakfast. My dad sits in the common room, sipping his tea. As I approach, he looks up and asks, "How's college going?"
"Good," I say, though in reality, I'm stressed.
After breakfast, I leave for college. Even though I don't understand psychology at all, I regret picking this college. Aunt's choice must be good, I had thought back then. But honestly, it's made me more anxious since the semester began.
Even though it's freezing outside, I head straight to the park after college, hoping for some peace. The park reminds me of that guy—the one with the personality disorder, or whatever is going on with him. Maybe it's not that serious. Either way, I doubt I'll see him here today.
The moment I enter the park, I notice something strange—people handing out roses, couples sitting close, and an overwhelming amount of pink and red everywhere.
Did something happen? Some festival I forgot about?
A little girl approaches me, shoving a bouquet toward me. "You want to buy one?"
"What for?" I ask.
"It's Valentine's Day!" she giggles.
I blink. Oh. That's today? Huh. No wonder the city looks like a romance movie threw up on it.
"Thanks, but I'm good," I mutter, brushing past her.
He's the same guy I met yesterday . As I look up, he hands me a bouquet of red roses, grinning.
"Hello," he says.
I ignore him and start walking away.
"Won't you accept my flower as a Valentine's Day greeting?" he asks.
I keep walking, pretending not to hear him.
"I just want to say thank you for saving me that day," he adds from behind me.
I stop and glance at him. "Done?" I ask flatly.
Turning to leave, I add, "Now, don't follow me."
"How about the flower?" he asks. "I won't follow you anymore if you accept it."
His words annoy me, but if taking the flower will make him stop, fine. With a sigh, I snatch it from his hand and turn to leave.
A chill runs down my spine as I notice a man standing a few feet away, his eyes fixed on Atlas. He isn't just another passerby—he's watching him. Closely. Intently.
Before I can think twice, my body moves on its own. I grab Atlas's hand and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"Do you want to buy this flower for your girlfriend?" I say, shoving the rose toward the man. He looks startled, confused—exactly what I wanted. Without waiting for a response, I tug Atlas along and break into a run.Until we arrive at the restaurant of my aunt.
I am sorry, Aunt. Can we finish this assignment? I pose the question to her. I brought a friend in front of my aunt for the first time, which shocked her.
Aunt leaned on the counter, her eyes flicking between me and Atlas with a knowing smirk.
"Aarav, dear, since when did you start bringing 'friends' here?" she teased.
I rolled my eyes. "It's not like that."
"Mhm. That's what they all say," she said, nudging my arm.
Aunt's smile faded slightly as she studied Atlas.
"And what's your name, 'friend'?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
I hesitated, realizing I had no idea. Before I could stammer, He smoothly answered, "Atlas Collen."
Aunt's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned to me. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Aarav."