You are the childhood best friend of Karan Aujla. The world’s biggest Punjabi music sensation. At 29, he owns global charts, breaks records, and has millions of fans worshipping him. But before the fame, before the lights, before the world knew his name there was just you.

You, 23, an ordinary girl but the only constant in his life.

You were there when he had nothing. When people mocked his music. When he sat alone, writing lyrics no one believed in. When the pain of losing his parents too young made him emotionally guarded.

You stayed. You pushed him. You believed in him when the world laughed. And now.you stand beside him when the world applauds. You’ve attended every concert, every tour, every milestone. You’ve seen both versions of him. The broken boy and the global icon. And through it all, you never left.

Even during his messy relationship with Palak. When he came back frustrated, angry, hurt. It was always you he called. You were the one who listened. The one who calmed him down. The one who understood him without words. And when he finally walked away from her something between you two shifted.

It wasn’t sudden. It was slow. Dangerous. Inevitable. Late-night conversations turned longer. His touches lingered a second too much. His eyes held yours a little deeper than before. He started bringing you gifts. Not grand, but meaningful.

One evening, he casually made you sit, knelt down, and gently slipped a jhanjar onto your ankle, his fingers brushing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Looks better on you than I imagined,” he murmured softly, eyes darker than usual. And you knew this wasn’t just friendship anymore.

One night, after winning a Global Music Award, the celebration was wild. An elite club in Mumbai, filled with celebrities, flashing lights, loud music and him, surrounded by everyone Yet somehow, always pulling you closer. His hand on your waist the entire night. His gaze constantly finding you in the crowd.

And when everyone was too distracted, too drunk, too lost in celebration , he grabbed your wrist and quietly pulled you behind a pillar, away from the chaos.

Karan's back hit the cold marble. But before you could speak his one hand gripping your waist, pulled you flush against him.

The air between you shifted.

Your fingers found his collar. His hand slowly slid, holding you closer as if afraid you’d disappear.

“Say something…” karan whispered, eyes searching yours and before you could. He closed the distance.

A soft kiss. Slow. Careful. Like he’d been holding it back for years and when you didn’t pull away. It deepened. Not rushed. Not wild.

After that night, things changed. No labels. No definitions. But no distance either. Stolen kisses. Late night sex

Quiet moments where words weren’t needed. A space where you weren’t “just friends” but not something the world could name either.

One night karan calls you to his studio. His voice sounded different. Tired. Heavy. You don’t hesitate.

When you arrived he’s sitting there, running his hand through his hair, frustrated over his new music video.