Ahad's POV
The laughter had simmered. Drinks were nearly done. The last chips were fought over and lost. The orange sky had begun to dip into plum as the café crowd thinned out. We were full, noisy, dramatic, and exhausted—in the best way possible.
Everyone started gathering their stuff. Chairs scraped. Phones checked. Jackets pulled on.
Hashim stood up first. Of course he did. That guy never waited. He tossed a toothpick in his mouth like some street hero, slung his bag over his shoulder, and strolled toward the parking lot where his beast of a bike waited like a loyal dog. Chrome black, aggressive, loud.
I watched him throw a leg over the seat, kick it once, twice, until the engine roared to life.
Shanzay, with a sleepy yawn, hooked her arm with Sarah, and the two of them began walking toward the side gate. Zaffar, ever the dependable sidekick, trailed behind them like a father hen with zero control over his chickens.
"Bye!" Shanzay chirped, waving.
"Text me when you reach," Sarah added.
Zaffar raised a hand at me. "See you, Romeo."
I didn't reply.
Because Iman was still beside me.
Just her.
And me.
But of course, it couldn't just end there.
Hashim's bike rolled up beside us.
"Iman," he called, removing his helmet with that casual grin of his. "Can I drop you?"
His voice wasn't forceful. In fact, it was annoyingly gentle.
She turned, blinking once. "What?"
"On the bike. I'll drop you." He smiled—boyish, harmless. Too harmless. "Your friends left. It's getting dark."
I didn't say a word.
I didn't have to.
Because the look I gave him—
That was enough.
The voice in my head was too loud. "One more step, and I'll turn your bike into a keychain."
Iman raised her eyebrow, once. Just once.
"Hashim," she said sweetly. "Thank you. But I'm walking."
"Walking?" he repeated, voice flat now.
She smiled, turning slightly toward me. "With my best friend."
I don't know what floated into my chest in that moment.
Pride? Relief? A short-circuiting heart?
All I know is—I grinned.
"Iman," he called smoothly, leaning slightly forward on his bike, "I'll drop you. It's getting late."
I turned my head slowly, in exasperation.Yet,my jaw ticked. "Interesting," I muttered.
Hashim didn't hear it. Iman looked momentarily surprised.
Before she could reply, I stepped forward and narrowed my eyes at him.
"Well, well," I said with a grin so tight it could slice paper, "you offering rides to people now?"
Hashim blinked. "Huh?"
I folded my arms, theatrically. "Because in all these years of friendship, Hashim , you've never once offered me a ride. Not even when I'd sprained my ankle and was crawling like a tragic movie heroine down Main Chowk."
He scoffed. "That was one time, man."
"Oh, one time?" I clutched my chest. "I see. So for your so-called 'brother', you couldn't move your royal backside an inch. But for ladies, your bike magically grows wings?"
Hashim let out a laugh, smirking. "It's not my fault you don't wear eyeliner."
I glared. "Hashim."
He shrugged, lifting one hand. "Look, my bike ain't built for gorillas like you, Ahad. It's a courtesy cruiser. Limited edition. Meant for grace and elegance, not your testosterone."
I stepped closer, eyes cold, smile wicked. "Say testosterone again and I'll make your bike genderless."
Iman seemed to hold back a giggle. She was watching us now, amused and still silent.
"Fine," Hashim said, playful still but a flicker of caution crossing his face, "I'll admit it. My bike's got a VIP policy. Only reserved for—"
"She's walking," I cut in, voice low, eyes slicing into his.
Hashim's grin faltered.
"She's walking," I repeated, "with me."
He raised both hands, mock-surrender. "Alright, alright. Didn't know your calendar was booked, Mr. Protective Package."
I stepped towards him,my voice dropping to whisper and a degree ,with each word coming out from me. "Just surprised you found the guts to offer her a ride.
Hashim—though rowdy, smug, and all teeth—didn't say anything more.
Because he knew this was me drawing the line.
With my words, yes.
With my eyes—absolutely.
But also, with history. Brotherhood. Tantrums. Testosterone. Loyalty.
We weren't enemies.
We were just...boys.
Rough-edged. Always throwing jabs.
But we knew our silences too.
And in that silence, I turned to Iman with the warmest look only she had the power to pull out of me.
"You ready?" I asked her.
She nodded, a little laugh still tucked in the corner of her mouth.
And without waiting another second, we turned and walked away.
I looked at Hashim.
And winked.
Deliberately.
The toothpick dropped out of his mouth.
Iman didn't even notice.
We turned, just the two of us, walking side by side into the lavender dusk. Her hair caught the wind. My heart caught something else.
Behind us, Hashim sat frozen on his bike.
For the first time in forever, the rowdy looked like a sulky five-year-old denied a toy.
I swear, if I'd had a camera, I'd have framed that face.After all we were close friends.However,I had made a mental notice of paying him the favor for what he did today.