Chapter 2: The Unspoken Bond

As they sit in the café, Aarish finds himself studying Zoya more closely than he means to. Her dark, wavy hair falls just past her shoulders, framing a face that's both soft and striking. Her skin is a warm, sun-kissed brown, and there's a faint scar above her left eyebrow that she keeps brushing her hair over, as if she's self-conscious about it. Her eyes are her most striking feature—large and almond-shaped, with flecks of gold that catch the light when she smiles. She's wearing a simple gray sweater that's slightly too big for her, and the sleeves keep slipping over her hands, making her look younger, more vulnerable. There's something about her—a quiet strength mixed with a fragility that makes him want to protect her, even though he knows he shouldn't.

The café was dimly lit, the kind of place where people went to disappear. Aarish slid into a corner booth, his hood still pulled low, while Zoya sat across from him, her hands trembling as she wrapped them around a steaming cup of tea. The warmth did little to calm her nerves. She glanced around nervously, half-expecting someone to recognize her, to drag her back to the life she was trying to escape.

Aarish noticed her unease. "Relax," he said, his voice low. "No one's looking for you here."

Zoya forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one running away."

Aarish's expression darkened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. Zoya caught a glimpse of scribbled notes, maps, and what looked like a list of names before he quickly closed it.

"First rule," he said, leaning forward. "If you want to disappear, you need to cut ties. No calls, no texts, no social media. You're dead to everyone you've ever known. Can you do that?"

Zoya hesitated. She thought of her father, sitting alone in their empty house, waiting for her to come home. She thought of her best friend, Riya, who had always been there for her, no matter what. Could she really leave them behind? Could she really let them think she was gone forever?

"I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aarish sighed, leaning back in his seat. "If you're not ready to let go, this isn't going to work. You can't half-disappear. It's all or nothing."

Zoya stared down at her tea, the steam rising in delicate curls. She felt a lump forming in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had made her decision. She couldn't turn back now.

"I'll do it," she said, her voice firmer this time. "I'll cut ties."

Aarish nodded, but there was no satisfaction in his expression. If anything, he looked almost… sad. "Alright," he said. "Second rule. You need a new identity. A new name, a new story. You're not Zoya anymore. You're someone else."

Zoya frowned. "Who am I, then?"

Aarish shrugged. "Who do you want to be?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibilities. Zoya had never thought about it before. Her entire life, she had been defined by her past, by the choices others had made for her. Who was she, really? Who did she want to become?

Before she could answer, the door to the café swung open, and a gust of cold air swept in. Zoya tensed, but it was just a group of teenagers, laughing and shoving each other as they made their way to the counter. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Aarish watched her closely, his dark eyes narrowing. "You're jumpy," he observed. "What are you running from, Zoya?"

Zoya's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't told him everything—not even close. But the way he was looking at her, like he could see right through her, made her want to spill her secrets. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, a voice interrupted them.

"Well, well, look who it is."

Zoya turned to see a girl standing by their table, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She was tall and lean, with sharp features and a shock of bright pink hair that fell over one eye. She looked like trouble, and Zoya instinctively shrank back.

"Noor," Aarish said, his voice tight. "What do you want?"

Noor ignored him, her gaze fixed on Zoya. "So this is the girl you've been hiding," she said, her tone dripping with mockery. "Cute. But she's not going to last a week."

Zoya's cheeks burned, but she didn't respond. She didn't know who this girl was, but something about her made her skin crawl.

Aarish stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Back off, Noor," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "She's not your concern."

Noor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Everything's my concern, Aarish. You know that." She turned to Zoya, her smirk widening. "Good luck, sweetheart. You're going to need it."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Zoya feeling more unsettled than ever. She looked at Aarish, her eyes wide with questions, but he just shook his head.

"Don't worry about her," he said, sitting back down. "She's just trying to get under your skin."

Zoya nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Noor was more than just a nuisance. There was something about the way she had looked at her, like she knew something Zoya didn't.

Aarish reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt of warmth through her. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll help you. But you have to trust me."

Zoya looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception. But all she saw was sincerity, and something else—something that made her heart ache in a way she couldn't explain.

"I trust you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aarish nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that looked almost like guilt. Zoya didn't notice. She was too busy trying to ignore the voice in the back of her mind, the one that whispered she was making a mistake.

But it was too late to turn back now. She had already taken the first step. And there was no going back.