Prologue

Aryan stood in front of the large mirror in the gym, his chest heaving with every breath. His gloves were still on, dripping with sweat, his muscles aching from the intense sparring session. The gym was almost empty now, the clang of the bell fading into silence, but his mind refused to quiet down.

His coach, shouting at his sparring partners to switch, moved around him, but Aryan didn’t hear the words. He was lost in the image of  Shrey, the argument from earlier replaying in his mind. The tension, the moment when everything had snapped.

What the hell was Shrey doing with her?

He could still hear the soft laugh that escaped her lips when Shrey said something in that low voice of his. Aryan had watched it all unfold from a distance, a mix of frustration and helplessness bubbling in his chest. The way Shrey’s fingers had brushed against hers. The way he had smiled at her with that cocky grin.

Aryan was used to controlling his emotions. He was a boxer-calm, measured, and focused. But there, standing across from his former friend, staring at that smug look on Shrey’s face, the calmness had shattered.

He could hear his own voice, rough and filled with rage. He had told himself that he’d never get like this, that he was above this. But with every passing second, his thoughts were consumed by a single question: Why was he always so close to her?

Then it happened. The next morning.

His fist had collided with Shrey’s face, the sickening sound echoing in his ears. The world had slowed down as the punch landed, sending a shock through his entire body. And that punch felt more satisfying than any victory in the ring. For a brief second, everything went silent. His heart pounded, but it wasn’t from the fight-it was from something else, something that made him feel alive in a way he couldn’t describe.

The Punch Wasn’t About Him

It wasn’t supposed to go that far.

It never is.

One moment it’s just words careless, thrown around like they don’t weigh anything. The next, it’s knuckles colliding with bone, and suddenly everything is louder, sharper, irreversible.

Aryan didn’t even remember deciding to hit him.

He just… did.

The classroom had gone silent for a second after that punch. Chairs screeched. Someone muttered, “Bro, what the hell-”

And in the middle of it all stood Shrey stunned, hand on his jaw, eyes burning more with confusion than anger.

That’s what stuck with Aryan.

Not the chaos. But that look.

Because Shrey didn’t know.

Didn’t know why.

Didn’t know that this wasn’t about the argument they were having.

Didn’t know that he had been getting on Aryan’s nerves for days… without even trying.

Didn’t know that there was a girl.

A girl Aryan didn’t even know properly.

A girl who didn’t even know Aryan existed.

And yet somehow…

Everything had started revolving around her.