I don't believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. Every person has a purpose. And most of them… are predictable.
That's why I noticed her. Not because she was loud. Not because she was trying. Because she wasn't. While everyone else in that room was desperate to be seen, she stood in the corner like she didn't care if she disappeared. Untouched drink. Uninterested eyes. Silence that didn't feel empty—it felt controlled.
Different.
And I don't ignore things that are different.
Kabir followed my gaze. "That one?" he asked.
I didn't answer. I watched her instead—the way her eyes moved carefully, the way she stayed still like she had learned how to exist without attention.
"She doesn't belong here," he added.
"Exactly."
"And that interests you?"
"You already know the answer."
A pause. Then, quietly—"This doesn't look like curiosity."
"It isn't."
Kabir didn't like that. I could tell.
I don't chase people. I don't waste time. But there's a certain kind of silence… that pulls you in. And she had it.
When I walked up to her, she didn't react like the others. No nervous smile. No fake confidence. She just looked at me—like I was a question she hadn't decided to answer yet.
That was new. That was rare.
And that was enough.
"Aarya."
Her name stayed.
"She's not like the others," Kabir said later.
"That's the problem," he added. "You don't get involved with 'not like others.' You have rules."
"Rules change."
"Not for you."
"They do now."
I knew what I was doing. This wasn't impulse. This was a decision. And I don't make decisions I can't control.
But there was something I didn't say.
It wasn't just her silence. It was the way she looked at me—without fear. Without curiosity. Like I didn't affect her at all.
And that… was unacceptable.
I don't like being ignored. I don't like things I can't read. And I don't like things I can't control.
So no—this wasn't curiosity.
This was interest.
And for me… interest never stays harmless.
I looked at her one last time before leaving. She didn't react. Or maybe she did—and chose not to.
It won't last.
People like her always break one of two ways—they either walk away… or they stay long enough to lose themselves.
And something told me—
she wouldn't walk away.
"She's going to be a problem," Kabir said.
"No," I replied.
"She's going to be a mistake."
A pause.
"But my kind of mistake."
And once I choose something—
I don't let it go.