The day after Zain's birthday party, Ewan was relentless. “Zain, you just turned 18! We’ve got midterms coming up, and we need to blow off some steam before we're buried in textbooks,” Ewan said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Zain leaned back in his chair, skeptical. “I don’t know, man. We’ve got a lot to study for. I don’t want to mess up.”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly why we need this. One night out won’t kill you. You’ll be thanking me when we’re stuck in the library cramming for finals.”

Zain sighed, feeling the pressure. Ewan always had a way of convincing him to do things he wouldn’t normally consider. “Alright, fine. But just for a bit.”

That evening, they headed to a local bar, a place known for its pulsing music and vibrant energy. As they walked in, the neon lights flickered across the room, casting an electric glow over the crowd. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the hum of conversation. It was Zain’s first time drinking, and he was feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He knew Ewan wanted him to loosen up, but a part of him wasn’t sure if this was the right way to do it.

Zain scanned the bar, taking in the lively scene, when his eyes landed on a familiar figure in the corner. Arish was there too, sitting at a table with his friend Aryan. Zain felt a surge of irritation—of all people, Arish was the last person he wanted to see tonight. He didn’t like Arish, and he definitely didn’t like Aryan, so he chose to ignore them and continued ahead with Ewan.

But something about Arish caught Zain’s attention. Even in the dim light, he could see that Arish wasn’t his usual arrogant self. He was downing drinks one after another, his movements sloppy and desperate, as if he was trying to drown something far deeper than just a bad day. Zain could sense that something was wrong, and it tugged at him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Aryan noticed his friend’s state and leaned in, concerned. “Arish, I’ve got to go. Something came up. Let’s get out of here. You shouldn’t be alone.”

But Arish, his words slurred, waved him off. “No, you go. I’m fine here. I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Arish, you’re not in the right state of mind. Come on, let me drop you off,” Aryan insisted, his voice firm.

Arish’s response was sharp, almost a shout. “No! I’ll manage. Just leave!”

With a sigh, Aryan reluctantly left, casting one last concerned glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.

Meanwhile, Zain was trying to enjoy his time with Ewan and the others. The alcohol was starting to loosen him up, and he was having fun. But every now and then, his eyes drifted back to Arish, who was now sitting alone, looking more lost than ever.

Finally, Zain couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Ewan, I need to go somewhere,” he said, setting down his drink.

Ewan noticed the direction Zain was looking and grabbed his arm. “Zain, are you seriously thinking of going over to Arish? You know how he is.”

“Ewan, look at his state,” Zain replied, pulling his arm free and heading toward Arish’s table.

Zain sat down across from Arish, who didn’t seem to notice him at first. When Arish finally looked up, his eyes were glazed, and his expression was one of surprise.

“Oh, Zain. You’re here too. Come to laugh at me? Look at me—I bet you’re happy to see me like this,” Arish slurred, his voice dripping with self-pity.

“Arish, stop with the nonsense. I’m not here to laugh at you,” Zain said firmly. “Just look at yourself. What’s wrong with you?”

Arish scoffed, his words bitter. “Ah, Zain, don’t pretend you care about me.”

Zain felt a flash of frustration. “You know what, Arish? I came here to keep you company, but maybe that was a mistake.” He stood up, ready to walk away.

But Arish’s voice stopped him. “Wait, Zain. Don’t go. Just… sit with me.”

Zain hesitated, then sat back down. “Then talk to me properly.”

Arish reached for another shot, but Zain caught his hand, stopping him. “Arish, what’s your problem? Why are you drinking so much? Did something happen?”

Arish, his defenses weakened by alcohol, finally let his guard down. “Zain, even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. You’ve been born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You have everything—a successful father, a loving family. I saw that at your birthday. You’re lucky, Zain. Unlike me… I’m unlucky.”

Zain leaned in closer to Arish, his voice low and heavy with emotion. “Arish, you think I’m lucky, that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth? What do you even know about me before judging me like that?”

He paused, the alcohol making him more vulnerable than usual. “If I was really loved by my family, do you think I’d be living alone? I only get to meet my mother twice a year.”

Arish's expression shifted, concern replacing his earlier bitterness. Curiosity stirred in him, making him want to know what Zain had to say.