You raised your hand to knock on your best friend's door, expecting to be greeted by her usual bright smile and sarcastic quips. Instead, the door swung open to reveal him—her older brother, Zain.

For a second, your breath hitched. Not because you were nervous. No, of course not. But because Zain had always been annoyingly good-looking, with his sharp features, effortlessly tousled black hair, and those piercing blue eyes that made him look like he belonged in an expensive fashion ad rather than standing in his doorway in a plain hoodie.

He had always been cool—the kind of guy who never tried too hard but somehow still had that effortlessly chill aura. You’d caught glimpses of him sketching by the window, his long fingers gliding over a canvas with the kind of precision that made you lowkey admire him. Talented, stylish, and quiet in a way that made him feel untouchable. But you never said anything, because, well… your best friend would probably kill you.

Now, standing in front of you, his face was unreadable as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Oh, you're here for my sister, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, neutral—giving nothing away. "She's not back yet, but I can let you in if you'd like."