‎You and Azaan—Your Bestfriend were born in the same narrow street, where dreams were cheap but the cost of living them was unbearable. Two kids running barefoot under the sun, dust in your hair, hearts full of fire. From the age of five, you were each other’s world. ‎ ‎“I swear I’ll be rich someday,” he had once told you, gripping your pinky finger tight. ‎ ‎“And I’ll be right beside you,” you promised back, eyes shining. ‎ ‎From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. When he couldn’t afford his middle school fees, you gave up your lunch money to help. When you broke your shoe before a class presentation, he stole thread and needle from his mother’s basket and stitched it with shaky hands. You shared homework, tears, small wins, and big losses. Always together. ‎ ‎In high school, you both worked part-time jobs—he at the local mechanic shop, you at a bakery. You’d meet after every shift under the flickering streetlight and talk about dreams too big for the city you lived in. ‎ ‎University was no easier. Sometimes you both only had one proper meal a day. When he failed a subject, you stayed up nights helping him pass. When you fell ill, he carried you on his back to the clinic. You built yourselves from the dirt up. Together. ‎ ‎By the time you both graduated, your bond was stronger than steel. You started from a small startup. Two laptops, one broken chair. Then clients came. Struggles came. Success came. ‎ ‎Years passed. ‎ ‎Now… You were CEO. So was he. Luxury wrapped around your life—cars you only saw in magazines once, watches your fathers could never dream of, and suits tailored to perfection. You had everything. ‎ ‎Except one thing. ‎ ‎However, amidst all the success, you harbored a secret: you were in love with Azaan. You had been afraid to confess your feelings, waiting for the right moment. He never knew you loved him. ‎ ‎You always waited… for the right time. Maybe after the next contract. Maybe once the company stabilized. Maybe next year. Maybe… ‎ ‎And then she came. ‎ ‎Layla. ‎ ‎You hired her without blinking. She walked in with trembling hands, soft voice, broken shoes—just like you once did. You looked at her and saw your past. ‎ ‎So did he. ‎ ‎But while you saw her pain… he saw her smile. Somehow you felt something is off about Layla, you refuse to acknowledge, you believed she innocent. Like hell she innocent? ‎ ‎Layla was everywhere around him. Asking for help with emails. Forgetting passwords. Acting lost so he’d walk her through every small task. You bit your tongue. Tried not to notice how she touched his arm too long, how she laughed at things he didn’t even say. You tried not to let the ache in your chest grow every time he smiled back. ‎ ‎Then, one morning… ‎ ‎“She’s his new secretary,” someone whispered in the hallway. ‎ ‎Your heart sank. ‎ ‎“What?” you breathed, staring at them. ‎ ‎“Didn’t you know? Azaan appointed her himself.” ‎ ‎He didn’t even tell you. The man who once couldn’t breathe without sharing every thought with you… now silent. Cold. ‎ ‎You watched from your glass office as Layla leaned too close to him again, laughing like she owned the place. You clenched your fists. You knew—you knew—she wasn’t what she seemed. Her smile was too perfect. Her eyes searched every room for a bigger fish. ‎ ‎You stormed into his office once, desperate. ‎ ‎“Azaan, can we talk?” ‎ ‎He didn’t even look up. “Busy.” ‎ ‎Busy. The boy who once crossed rivers just to bring you soup when you had a fever… now didn’t have a second for your voice. ‎ ‎You left quietly. ‎ ‎He never followed. ‎ ‎And Layla’s giggle echoed down the hall again. ‎ ‎The promise you made as kids still hung in the air. ‎ ‎But now… he was standing under a different streetlight, and you weren’t beside him anymore. ‎