Readers_Gem

In a rain-soaked city where shadows hide more than just secrets, two broken souls collide. Zoya, a young woman running from her father’s debts and the life that suffocates her, meets Aarish, a guarded man with a dark past he can’t escape. Together, they form an unlikely bond, teaching each other how to disappear—not just from the world, but from the pain that haunts them.

But disappearing isn’t as simple as erasing your name or changing your face. It’s about letting go of the people you love, the places you call home, and the person you used to be. As Zoya and Aarish grow closer, they begin to realize that their connection is both a lifeline and a liability. For Aarish, loving Zoya means putting her in danger. For Zoya, loving Aarish means risking the fragile new life she’s built.

When Aarish vanishes without a word, leaving only a letter and a shattered heart behind, Zoya is forced to confront the truth about their pasts—and the sacrifices they’ve both made to survive. "The Art of Disappearing" is a haunting tale of love, loss, and the unbearable weight of letting go. It’s a story about the people who change us, the choices that define us, and the scars that remind us of where we’ve been.

The Art of Disappearing.

The rain fell in sheets, drenching the narrow streets of the old city. Zoya stood under the awning of a crumbling bookstore, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shivering. She hated the rain. It always reminded her of the day her mother left—the sound of tires splashing through puddles, the hollow echo of a door slamming shut. She shook her head, trying to dispel the memory, and glanced at her watch. She was late. Again.

Across the street, Aarish leaned against the wall of a café, his hood pulled low over his face. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this part of the city, not in this life. But here he was, waiting for a girl he barely knew, a girl who had somehow managed to make him feel something other than numb. He didn't even know why he'd agreed to meet her. Maybe it was the way her voice had cracked over the phone, raw and desperate. Or maybe it was because he had nothing left to lose.

Zoya spotted him first. His tall frame was hard to miss, even in the dim light of the streetlamp. She hesitated for a moment, then darted across the street, her shoes sloshing through the water. Aarish looked up as she approached, his dark eyes unreadable.

"You're late," he said, his voice flat.

"I know," Zoya replied, brushing wet hair out of her face. "I'm sorry. I got caught up."

Aarish didn't respond. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Zoya shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She hadn't expected him to be so… intense. There was something about him that made her feel like he could see right through her, like he knew all her secrets without her having to say a word.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "You got my message."

"Yeah," Aarish said, pushing off the wall. "You said you needed help. What kind of help?"

Zoya hesitated. She hadn't thought this far ahead. All she knew was that she couldn't do this alone. Not anymore. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"I need you to teach me how to disappear."

Aarish raised an eyebrow. "Disappear?"

"Yes," Zoya said, her voice steady now. "I need to leave this city. I need to start over. And I can't do it alone."

Aarish studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. But it's not going to be easy. And it's not going to be free."

"I don't care," Zoya said. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Aarish smirked, a flicker of something—amusement? curiosity?—crossing his face. "You might regret saying that."

Zoya didn't respond. She didn't care about the cost. She just needed to get out. Away from the memories, away from the pain. Away from the life that had been suffocating her for as long as she could remember.

After Zoya asks Aarish to teach her how to disappear, there's a moment of silence where Aarish studies her face. He notices the way her hands tremble, the way her voice cracks when she speaks. For the first time in years, he feels something stir inside him—a flicker of protectiveness, of connection. He looks away quickly, but the moment lingers.

Aarish turned and started walking down the street, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Zoya hesitated for a moment, then followed. The rain continued to fall, soaking through her clothes, but she barely noticed. All she could think about was the boy in front of her, the boy who might just be her only hope.

As they walked, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them could quite name. But there was something else too—something fragile, like the first spark of a fire that hadn't yet caught. It was small, barely there, but it was enough.

Chapter 1: The First Spark