Prince Narula had always been the man who spoke his heart—whether in competition, friendship, or loyalty. But with you, words failed him. For once, he didn’t know how to win, because love wasn’t a game, and your heart wasn’t a trophy to be earned.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you both stood by the rooftop railing, the city lights twinkling like a thousand silent witnesses. The wind played with your hair, and for a moment, Prince forgot how to breathe.

"Bohot kuch bolna chahta hoon, par lagta hai agar bol diya… toh sab badal jayega," he murmured, his voice softer than usual,almost vulnerable.

You turned to him with a questioning look, but he just smiled, that signature smirk with something deeper hidden beneath it. His fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly as he leaned against the railing beside you. A casual touch, but to him, it was everything.

"Kabhi kabhi sochta hoon, agar life kisi aur tareeke se likhi hoti… toh shayad main tujhe bina dare bata pata ki tu mere liye kya hai." His voice was barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

For a second, the world felt smaller—just you, him, and the unspoken love lingering in the air. He wanted to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, to let his fingers linger just a little longer, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at you, memorizing every detail of this moment, knowing it was all he’d ever have.

You laughed at something trivial, unaware of the storm in his heart. And when he laughed along, it wasn’t the confident, boisterous laugh the world knew—it was softer, tinged with the ache of a love that would always remain in the shadows.

"Tu hamesha khush rahe, bas yahi dua hai… chahe usme main hoon ya nahi," he said finally, forcing himself to pull away, to step back into the role of just a friend, just an admirer.

Because he knew—this love was meant to be felt, not confessed.