Dev's P.O.V.

The living room is bathed in the soft glow of the television, its sounds providing a dull background noise to the lazy afternoon. Ajit and I are sprawled on the couch, not paying much attention to the screen. My parents are out, probably enjoying a movie date or something – leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Ajit lets out a loud yawn, "Ugh, so boring," he sighs, his head finding a comfortable spot on my shoulder.

I chuckle, "Tell me about it. Where's Aman? Did he go out to grab snacks, or is he attempting to cook a feast for us? Feels like he's been gone forever." I toss the remote onto the coffee table and reach for my phone.

Just as I unlock it, Raj's message lights up the screen: "God, why is this Sunday so boring?"

Ajit, always the curious one, shoots me a sly look. "Ohh, whose message caught your eye?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, no one," I reply with a grin, my fingers dancing on the screen as I start typing.

"Lemme see what Noone's messages look like," Ajit playfully suggests, reaching for my phone with mischievous intent.

I swiftly raise it out of his reach, laughing. "Ajit, bad manners! There's something called privacy, you know." He doesn't give up that easily, attempting to snatch the phone again. "There's nothing called privacy when you're Indian, honey. The government even passed a bill to remove this word from textbooks" he quips, a sly smile on his face. 

I burst into laughter, jumping off the couch to evade his playful advances. "Nooo, Ajit, you're not getting your hands on this!" He gives me a sly smile, determined to prove me wrong. "Yesss, Dev," he teases.

Ajit is not one to back down easily, especially when it comes to unraveling the mysteries of his best friend's life. As he jumps off the couch, the chase begins. We sprint around the living room, ducking and weaving around the furniture like a pair of mischievous kids playing tag. 

I navigate around the couch, narrowly avoiding a collision with the dining table. Ajit, persistent and determined, follows my every move, determined to catch me and lay his hands on my phone.

"Dude, you're not getting anywhere near my phone!" I shout, a burst of laughter escaping me as I change direction abruptly.

Ajit laughs in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I surely will, Dev!"

We whirl around the couches, the coffee table, and even the dining table, our laughter echoing through the room.

"Dev, you can't escape me!" Ajit shouts, his strides closing the gap between us.

I manage to dart away just in time, making a quick turn around the dining table. "Give it up, Ajit! It's my private space!"

He grins, undeterred by my protests. "Come on, Dev! You don't tell me a thing about him, so at least Let me see those chats with your boyfriend Raj!"

Rolling my eyes, I deny with a laugh, "He's not my boyfriend, Ajit."

But Ajit is having none of it. "Lemme see the chats, and I'll decide if he's not."

Realizing the futility of the chase, I finally raise my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you can ask anything, but you're not seeing the chats. Deal?" I propose, trying to strike a compromise.

Ajit, ever the negotiator, scrunches his nose in contemplation, then sighs in mock disappointment. "Less fun, but I can manage with that right now."

We both come to a halt on opposite sides of the table. Ajit leans on the table, shooting me a mischievous look. "Now, can we sit, and will you spill some juicy details, honey?" he smirks, making me laugh in embarrassment.

"Yuck," I protest, scrunching my face in a mock disgusted expression.

Ajit raises an eyebrow, teasingly asking, "What? You're the first one with a boyfriend in the three of us." I let out an exaggerated whine, repeating, "He's not my boyfriend... at least not yet."

Ajit takes a seat on the table, clasping his hands dramatically as if he's some detective interrogating a suspect. I roll my eyes at the over-the-top display and sit right across from him, playing along with his antics.

"So, let's start from the beginning?" he says with a mock-serious face, and I can't help but chuckle, nodding in agreement. I launch into the tale, feeling like I have no other choice but to indulge his curiosity.

As I recount the story, Ajit listens with an intensity that's more fitting for a crime thriller than a high school love story. Then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he squeals, "What the hell, so you already have your first, second, third, and many more kisses??"

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I quickly retort, "Shut up!" His laughter echoes through the room, blending with mine.

"Invite him here!" Ajit exclaims in excitement, leaning in with a gleam in his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow, puzzled. "What? Why?" I inquire, genuinely confused by his sudden enthusiasm.

Ajit rolls his eyes as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What do you mean, why? I want to meet your boy... well, your potential boyfriend. And it's Sunday, so why not?" he declares, his excitement infectious.

I can't help but be swept up in his energy. "You sure?" I ask, knowing that once Ajit sets his mind on something, there's no turning back. He nods eagerly, and with a sigh, I grab my phone to drop a message-

Well, why don't you come over,  and we can get bored together.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Ajit springs up from the table. "Seems like snacks are here, and I guess Aman too," he remarks with a grin.

I can't help but laugh, and I get up, following Ajit to the door.

Ajit swings the door open, a teasing smirk already playing on his lips. "Well, well, look who decided to join the party fashionably late. Aman, darling, why so much hurry? You could have taken your time and would join us for dinner." he taunts with his regular sassy flourish.

Aman steps into the living room, a warm smile on his face, as he offers his explanation, "The store was packed, and the owner decided to play hide-and-seek. Sorry for being late."

Ajit takes the bags from Aman's hands, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Excuses, excuses," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "But fine, we'll entertain these believable excuses of yours."

With a playful leap onto the couch, Ajit scans the room and declares, "So, who's taking the honor of making tea today?" Ajit and I exchange a knowing glance, sharing a silent agreement. We both turn our attention to Aman, who suddenly looks caught off guard.

Aman shakes his head vehemently, "Noo," his eyes widen in protest. 

Ajit, I nod in unison, "Yess."

And Aman finally lets out a chuckle, realizing the impending task. "Last time," he concedes with a mock glare.

Ajit, not missing a beat, blows a playful kiss in Aman's direction. "You're the best," he shouts with a grin.

"Unpopular opinion: Punjabi tadka sticks are better than Lays," he declares confidently.

I grab a pack of Lays, opening it with a smirk. "They're completely different things, Ajit. If you want to compare, do it with Uncle Chips and Lays," I retort.

Ajit rolls his eyes dramatically. "I thought you rich people would eat different snacks," he teases, reaching for the TV remote.

I chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean? What do you think I'd be eating?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Ajit shrugs, flipping through channels. "I don't know, I'm not rich," he replies with a cheeky grin.

We both burst into laughter, the banter flowing effortlessly, as Ajit finally settles on a comedy movie. Aman emerges from the kitchen with a tray of tea, joining us on the couch. Now, I find myself sandwiched between Ajit and Aman – as always, they both behave like my bodyguards all the time.

I offer my opened pack of chips to Aman, and he graciously takes a few. The three of us, each with our snacks, focus on the screen, ready for a good laugh.

As we get engrossed in the movie, Aman sips his tea, and Ajit can't help but bring up the ongoing tea-making saga.

"Whoa," Ajit remarks, "I think I'd like to forget that I ever agreed it would be the last time you make tea because it's always good." And Aman shakes his head with a warm smile. 

As he reaches for more chips in the pack, our fingers briefly brush against each other. I turn to look at him, and for a moment, our eyes lock. It's as if there's something unspoken, something that his eyes are trying to convey—a sentiment that I'm not ready to decipher. There's a language in those glances, a language I'm not sure I want to learn. Because whatever it is, it has the potential to unravel the present, and right now, I'm content in this happy bubble. I don't want it to be true.

I quickly avert my eyes, breaking the silent connection, and hand over the pack of chips to Aman. With a playful grin, I jokingly say, "Lemme taste it too then." The words carry a lightness, a deliberate effort to steer away from anything that might disturb the harmony of the moment.

I take a sip of the tea, the warmth soothing as it travels down. With a teasing grin, I raise an eyebrow, fully agreeing with Ajit's compliment to Aman's tea-making skills. "Yup, it's amazing, and you're always gonna make it for us. Sorry, no escape for you," I playfully declare, aiming to lighten the mood.

This time, Aman doesn't offer his usual protest. Instead, he simply lowers his eyes to the pack of chips, nodding in acknowledgment.

The laughter echoes through the room on the lazy afternoon. The table is cluttered with cups, wrappers, and empty snack packs.

Ajit, the eternal entertainer, breaks the laughter, "Okay, so either he's stupid, or we aren't accepting he's the main lead." He leans on me, and we share a laugh. I rest my head on Ajit's head, responding, "I mean, whatever the script says."

As the movie continues, a subtle shift in the air catches my attention. Aman's fingers, hesitant but seeking, inch toward mine on the couch. My heart skips a beat as his touch makes contact, and my mind races in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. My eyes close involuntarily, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flooding my mind. This can't be happening, I silently protest. This isn't happening...I'm overthinking.

The friendship we share is precious, and I can't fathom the idea of losing it.

As his fingers intertwine with mine, an unexpected wave of fear washes over me. Fear of a confrontation, fear of losing the easy camaraderie we've built. 

In a subtle attempt to diffuse the situation without causing any discomfort, I fake a cough. It's a small, deliberate move to shift my hand away from Aman's touch, bringing it up to my mouth as if to stifle the cough. 

I steal a quick glance at Aman, and there's something off about him. His body language shifts, eyes avoiding mine. I catch a hint of embarrassment in his demeanor, and it tugs at my heartstrings.

Without thinking, I decide to reach out, to offer a comforting touch on his shoulder, a silent reassurance that everything is okay. But just as my hand starts its journey toward Aman's shoulder, the doorbell rings, slicing through the moment. Ajit jumps up with his usual enthusiasm, giving me a mischievous look.

The timing couldn't be more perfect—or perhaps, more frustrating.

"Let me see who's here!" Ajit announces, practically sprinting to the door. I watch him swing it open, and there, on the other side, is Raj. A smile plays on Raj's lips as he greets Ajit.

Ajit turns towards me with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Dev, see who's here!" he teases, leaving me momentarily caught off guard.

 I scramble to hide any traces of the previous moment with Aman, shifting my focus to Raj's arrival.

"Hey, Raj!" I greet with a smile, hoping to divert attention away from the awkwardness that had briefly occupied the room. 

I awkwardly rise from the couch, standing there like a deer caught in headlights as Raj responds with a soft, "Hi." The room feels charged with an odd energy, and I'm desperately trying to shake off the discomfort. Ajit's mischievous gaze intensifies the awkwardness, and I can't help but feel exposed under his scrutiny.

Attempting to maintain composure, I fight the urge to smile or show any sign of embarrassment. My mind is a jumbled mess, unable to decode the situation or come up with a suitable response. And then, as if on cue, Ajit bursts into laughter.

He quickly moves and positions himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulder. "So, Dev, this is how you usually greet your boyfrie—oops, I mean potential boyfrie—I mean friend Raj?" Ajit teases, emphasizing each word with playful pauses. He continues, "Awkward with awkward, hey? Or do you," he pauses dramatically, pushing me into Raj, who reflexively catches me. I find myself dangerously close to kissing Raj's neck.

"—jump into his arms, kissing?" Ajit concludes with a hearty laugh. The room echoes with his laughter, and my embarrassment reaches its peak.

"Ajit, you—" I begin to protest, but my voice falters in sheer embarrassment. Ajit, unfazed, swiftly retreats and takes a seat on the couch beside Aman, acting as if he didn't just push me into Raj's arm.

"Was just asking for general knowledge," Ajit shrugs, flashing a mischievous grin. I shoot him a half-hearted glare, my face burning with embarrassment, as Raj and I exchange awkward glances. 

But then, Raj's grip tightens around me, pulling me into a complete hug, and before I can react, he plants a kiss on my cheek. Caught off guard, my eyes widen, and I can feel the heat rushing to my face. Raj shoots a mischievous grin in Ajit's direction, clearly reveling in the surprise factor.

"We greet sometimes like this, and sometimes the location of the kiss varies. Wanna see?" Raj suggests with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Ajit, quick to respond, nods enthusiastically. "I like him," he declares.

Embarrassment courses through me like an electric shock. I bury my face in Raj's neck, attempting to hide the crimson blush that has undoubtedly painted my cheeks. Whispering in a hushed tone, I manage to mutter, "Stop it, both of you."

Raj's chuckles linger in the air, and I feel his hand reaching to the back of my head, gently scratching my hair. It's a soothing gesture that calms my nerves, and I finally allow myself to hug him back, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over me.

"So, what are we watching?" Raj points to the TV, and Ajit lounges on the couch, gripping the chips packet. "Comedy movie, but I guess I'm more interested in the romance right now," Ajit says with a wide, mischievous grin.

My face heats up once again, and I can't help but blush. I lean in and whisper into Raj's shoulder, a hint of desperation in my voice, "Ajit, stop now. I want to disappear." The room is filled with laughter, and I try to lose myself in the embrace.

"Aman, where are you going?" Ajit's voice cuts through the laughter-filled atmosphere, prompting me to raise my head from Raj's shoulder. I glance over to see Aman getting up from the couch, his movements silent and purposeful, heading towards the door without uttering a single word.

"Aman!" I call out in desperation, my voice carrying the urgency I feel inside. Aman pauses near the door for a fleeting moment, turning to look at me while I'm still in Raj's arms. I notice hints of tears in his eyes, and a shock shivers down my spine.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, Aman leaves, and I quickly separate myself from Raj, a sense of worry taking over. I need to talk to Aman, and figure out if it is exactly what I'm thinking.

As I rush to follow him, I sense Raj about to trail behind me, but Ajit intervenes, getting up and diverting Raj's attention. "So, Raj, do you like Lays more or Punjabi tadka?" Ajit asks, creating a momentary distraction.

I turn to look at Ajit, grateful for the intervention because I need to talk to Aman alone and Ajit nods in understanding.

The evening sun bathes everything in a warm, red glow, and the winter breeze gently shakes the leaves of the trees, creating a serene setting. The air is crisp, and the beauty of the sunset embraces the world in a tranquil atmosphere.

"aman, aman!" I call out, my voice echoing in the stillness of the evening. Aman stops under a tree, near the fence gate, his back turned towards me, and he doesn't respond. Determined, I slowly approach him, the leaves crunching beneath my feet.

Reaching out, I gently place my hand on Aman's shoulder, but he remains unmoved, staring into the distance. "Aman," I whisper, the words carrying a plea for him to turn and face me.

As if nature itself holds its breath, the breeze seems to still, and the birds, once chirping joyously, now retreat to their respective nests.

"You like him, don't you?" Aman finally whispers after a prolonged pause. His tone carries a mixture of sadness and bitterness, and it hangs in the air like an unspoken truth.

Caught off guard by the directness of his words, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Aman, I..."

My hand lingers on Aman's shoulder as words fail me. I take a step closer, hoping the proximity will bridge the unspoken gap, but Aman remains unmoved. His head lowers, and I can't see his face, but I can sense the weight of his emotions

"Why can't it be me?" Aman breathes, his words barely audible amid the rustling leaves. The pain in his voice clenches at my heart, and I almost physically feel the weight of those words in my aching chest.

I take a deep breath, and I can almost feel it shivering as my heart races in my chest. This is exactly what I was fearing, precisely what I didn't want to happen. I've never had amazing friends like Ajit and Aman. I've never had a best friend like Aman who can understand me without any words needed.

"You are an amazing person, a very very good friend-"

But as I attempt to find the right words to reassure Aman, to express how much he means to me, he cuts through with a sharp question, "But not good enough to be liked?"

The words hit me like a wave, crashing over me with a force I wasn't prepared for. Aman's pain, so palpable in the air, feels like a punch to the gut, making it hard for me to catch my breath. I can't let him dwell on these thoughts; I can't let him believe he's not enough.

I turn Aman gently, facing him towards me. His gaze remains fixed on the ground, and I see the tears glistening under his glasses. His breath seems caught in his throat, his fists clenched. I hate seeing him like this; it's tearing me apart.

"You're an amazing person, Aman," I say, my voice steady but filled with sincerity. "Don't even think that you aren't good enough. Heck, you're one of the best people I've ever met in my life."

His eyes flicker up, meeting mine briefly, but the pain doesn't fade. I reach out, my hand finding his, hoping to convey the depth of my words. "It's just that not every relationship should be turned into romance. Some are meant to be special in their own way."

Aman's hand trembles in mine, but he slowly begins to loosen his grip. The tension in his shoulders eases, and I see a glimmer of acceptance in his eyes. "You have a special place in my life, Aman," I continue, my thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "A place that will never, ever be taken by someone else."

Aman pauses, his eyes closed, and a bitter, sad chuckle escapes his lips, sending shivers down my spine. "So he did it again," he breathes, the words laden with a weight I can't comprehend.

"Aman?" I step closer, confusion and concern etched across my face. "Who did what?"

Aman yanks his hand away, stepping back, his Adam's apple moving painfully as he swallows. His eyes remain fixed on me, a storm of emotions brewing within. "He did it again, taking everything away from me," Aman's voice rises, a mixture of frustration, agony, and raw pain. "Strip by strip, he peeled away the things, the happiness, the people meant to be mine. He took them all... and just when I thought I found my happiness, found you, he snatched that away too."

Aman's voice wavers with a mix of despair and fury, the words cutting through the cold evening air. "He's a thief, Dev. A thief who steals not just possessions but joy, dreams, and the people we were supposed to be others. He pillaged the very essence of what should have been mine."

"Amidst the wreckage of my shattered world, I found a flicker of light, a spark of hope — you," he continues, his gaze locking onto mine with a desperate intensity. "I thought, 'Maybe this is my chance for a new beginning, a different kind of happiness.' But no, he couldn't stand the idea of me having anything good. So, he took you away too."

The intensity in Aman's words hits me like a hurricane, and I'm left speechless. His eyes, now red from anger and tears, pierce through mine, carrying a depth of emotion that leaves me at a loss. In an instant, Aman turns, his movements filled with frustration, and he wrenches the gate open, stepping out into the world beyond.

The gate creaks shut behind him, each echoing thud trembling the ground beneath me. The winter breeze seems to carry away fragments of his anguish, and I stand there, frozen in the fading sunlight, grappling with the storm of emotions that now surrounds me.