Back to present.
" Hey " Aya shacke off Haari.
He jolte " Eh? Yeah "
" Where spacing out " Aya said as she focused back on her driving.
" Oh it was noting just some old day hit the mind " Haari said, Yaming.
" OOh , So which one hit you this time " Aya asked.
" The Pillow one ", Aya face turn bit red thinking of that day.
" Oh, I see " Aya said in low voice.
Outside the hotel, the others stepped out, the night air crisp against their skin. Haari moved to follow—until Aya's hand grabbed his, her grip firm but light. "If you don't mind," she said, flashing a playful smile at the others, "I'll be borrowing Haari for tonight."
Oki hesitated, then shrugged, her smirk knowing. "Well… you two haven't seen each other for years, so why not?"
Aya turned to Haari, her expression unreadable. "You don't mind, do you?"
Haari stayed silent, his face a mask of conflicted emotions—memories of Aya clashing with the unresolved tension from Ashi's shout in the sea. With a sigh, he leaned back into the seat. "…Do whatever you want."
Rafta and Ashi exchanged glances, their expressions clouded with uncertainty, the weight of the moment pressing down on them.
"When are you guys flying back?" Aya asked, her tone casual.
"Hmm, we're not in a hurry—take your time," Oki answered, her voice light but her eyes sharp.
Aya nodded. "Alright. Thanks."
Oki's smirk widened slightly. "Got it. Well, enjoy your night."
Ashi's footsteps echoed softly in the hotel lobby as she walked in with Rafta and Oki, her heart heavy after Aya's car pulled away with Haari inside. She turned back one last time, watching the tinted glass of the sleek black car slide up, sealing Haari from view. A strange feeling settled in her chest—a gnawing unease she couldn't name, a ache that lingered as the car disappeared into the night. Something about this didn't sit right with her.
Later, on the hotel rooftop, the cold night air, whispered across the city skyline, the distant hum of traffic blending with the rustle of the breeze. The stars above twinkled faintly, dwarfed by the glittering sprawl of city lights stretching endlessly before Ashi.
She leaned against the railing, her arms resting on the cool metal, a cold can of alcohol in her hand. Her navy cardigan fluttered slightly in the wind, her long dark hair swaying as she took a absentminded sip, the bitter liquid trailing down her throat. Her hazel eyes were distant, lost in the shimmering horizon, her thoughts a tangled mess of Haari, Aya, and the dinner that had cracked open a wound she didn't know she had.
The rooftop door creaked open behind her, a soft intrusion into her solitude. "Mind if I join you?" Rafta's voice was steady, a anchor in the quiet night.
Ashi didn't turn, recognizing his voice instantly. "Yeah, why not," she replied softly, her tone hollow, her gaze still fixed on the skyline.
Rafta stepped up beside her, leaning against the railing with a sigh, his breath visible in the chilly air. "The wind's pretty cold up here," he said, rubbing his arms, his casual beach gear swapped for a light jacket. "Aren't you freezing in that?"
Ashi shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nope. I don't feel a thing." Her words were numb, a mask hiding the storm beneath.
Rafta's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto the can in her hand. "Wait… is that alcohol?" His tone carried disbelief, concern flickering in his dark eyes, a protective edge surfacing—the same instinct that had flared at dinner when he'd noticed her pain.
Ashi didn't look at him. She raised the can to her lips, taking another small sip, the cold liquid a fleeting distraction. "Hmm," she hummed, her voice distant. "I was just in the mood for something refreshing."
Rafta frowned, his jaw tightening. Something was off about her tonight—her quietness, her detachment. Without a word, he reached out, his movements gentle but firm, and took the can from her fingers. He glanced at the label, his expression darkening, then let out a small sigh.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a can of soft drink and handed it to her, his gaze steady. "It's dangerous to drink up here," he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable concern. "Especially when you're… not really yourself."
Ashi stared at the new can, her fingers curling around it slowly. She didn't argue, didn't resist—just accepted it, her silence louder than any words. Rafta's gaze lingered on her, his heart twisting at the sight. She looked… fragile, a heroine on the verge of breaking, her usual warmth buried beneath a weight he couldn't fully grasp.
He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his tense posture. His eyes darkened—not at Ashi, but at Haari, the source of her pain, the one who'd left with Aya without a second glance. Rafta clenched his fists, his protectiveness flaring, but he kept his voice soft. "Don't stay out here too long," he muttered, his tone quieter now. "You'll catch a cold like that."
With that, he turned toward the door, his steps heavy. Ashi didn't stop him. She stood frozen, staring at the unopened can in her hands, her fingers trembling slightly, the cold metal grounding her as her emotions swirled.
Behind her, Rafta paused at the doorway, glancing back. His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable—concern, frustration, and a flicker of anger battling within him. Then, without another word, he walked away, the door creaking shut, leaving her alone with the night.
Ashi's grip on the can tightened, her knuckles whitening. A single tear slipped down her cheek, catching her off-guard. She blinked, startled by the wetness, then another tear followed, and another.
Her chest ached, a suffocating tightness she couldn't name, a wound splitting open. She brought a hand to her heart, gripping the fabric of her cardigan, her breathing uneven. What is this?
Her shoulders trembled as more tears fell, her hazel eyes shimmering with the city lights reflected in them. She wiped at her cheeks, but the tears kept coming, unstoppable now.
Why am I crying? The question echoed in her mind, her throat tightening as she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. But the dam had broken, and her emotions poured out like the waves she'd waded through with Haari—waves that had once held laughter, then fear, then misunderstanding.
She looked up at the dark sky, the stars twinkling like distant memories, a heroine baring her soul to the night. Her voice broke as she whispered, her lips quivering, "Grandma… what's wrong with me?" The wind carried her words into the void, but no answer came—only silence, and the quiet sound of her tears falling, each one a piece of her heart she couldn't hold together.
The night before, Haari found himself in Aya's world—a sprawling, modern mansion in Goa that screamed luxury from every corner. The sleek architecture glowed under soft golden lights, its driveway stretching into an expansive parking lot where a collection of high-end cars gleamed in pristine condition: a matte-black sports car, a silver SUV, and a cherry-red convertible, each a testament to Aya's success.
To the side, a neatly maintained park bloomed with trimmed hedges and decorative lights, casting warm glows on winding pathways, the air fragrant with jasmine.
Inside, the grandeur continued—a cavernous living room with plush leather sofas that seemed to swallow the light, a towering LED screen mounted on a marble wall, and a glass gallery overlooking an indoor swimming pool, its water shimmering like liquid sapphire under ambient lighting.
The place reeked of wealth, success, and a life so far removed from what Haari had imagined for Aya back in their university days of PC café battles and piggyback antics.
Now, on Aya's rooftop, Haari stood near the railing, a cold can of soft drink in his hand, the chill of the metal doing little to ease the dull weight in his chest.
The Goa night, pulsed below—cars honked faintly, waves crashed against the shore, and muffled laughter drifted from beachside clubs, a vibrant contrast to the quiet tension up here. The city lights glittered like scattered stars, a mirror to the ones above.
A soft click of a door opening broke his reverie. Aya emerged, fresh from a shower, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, a black bathrobe with wide golden lined on its edges loosely draped over her figure, the fabric clinging lightly to her frame.
She moved with effortless confidence, the same boldness that had once dragged Haari into trouble in their university days, and lay down on a sun lounger, stretching her limbs with a contented sigh, her silhouette framed against the night sky.
She scoffed lightly, rolling onto her side, propping her head up with an arm. "Tell me something better—how's life treating you?"
Haari took sip, the cold drink bitter against the ache in his chest. "Nothing special. Just going with the flow," he said, his voice steady but hollow, his thoughts drifting to Ashi's silence, her hurt expression at dinner, and the unresolved tension from their sea misunderstanding.
Aya smirked, her gaze knowing. "That sounds exactly like something you'd say."
Haari turned toward her, resting his elbow on the railing, his messy black hair catching the breeze. "What about you?"
She stretched her legs slightly, the bathrobe shifting, emphasizing her relaxed state. "You can see it yourself. I'm enjoying my life, carefree, doing whatever I want, go whereever I want," she said, her voice a confident hum, her success palpable in the opulence around them.
Haari hummed, a playful glint sparking in his eyes despite his mood. "If I asked for a part of your property, how much would you give me?"
Aya chuckled, shaking her head, her damp hair shimmering. "As much as you ask. I have more than enough," she said, her tone light but sincere, a queen unbothered by material loss.
Haari's lips curled into a playful smirk. "What if I ask for everything?"
Aya didn't hesitate, her gaze steady. "Feel free to take it. There's no hitch in helping friends. I'll make more again—money, cars, houses... it's nothing." Her words were casual, but they carried the weight of her newfound freedom, a stark contrast to their university days of sneaking into hostels and dodging trouble.
She leaned back, exhaling slowly, then added with quiet conviction, "Money, cars, houses—those are just basic needs. Whether they're luxurious or cheap doesn't matter. A man with more money won't live a thousand years just because he's rich. It's not money that makes life worth living—it's the satisfaction in your heart. If you're happy with what you're doing, even a rented room feels like palace. But if you're rich and still can't sleep at night, what's the point?"
Her eyes met Haari's, softened now with something deeper. "Find your satisfaction—not just a way to earn money. Because at the end of life, if you're content with how you lived, you'll die peacefully. But if you killed your joy just to chase wealth, you'll only realize the truth when it's too late to fix it."
Haari studied her in silence, the weight of her words settling between them like the sea breeze—unseen but undeniable.
"You've really changed, huh?" he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.
Aya let out a small laugh, her voice soft but sharp. "Or maybe I've just stopped pretending."
Haari tilted his head, watching her as the light wind tousled his hair. His voice dropped to a more introspective tone.
"What about you? Are you satisfied with your present? Are you happy right now?"
Aya blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Then she laughed—sharp, effortless, almost too loud for the silence between them.
"Heh… hahaha. Only a fool wouldn't be happy with a life like this." She gestured vaguely at the luxurious resort around them, the private beach glowing under subtle lights, the sound of the waves murmuring beneath it all. "Freedom, comfort, no one to answer to—I'm living the dream."