Only four days left until they'd return to their regular lives. Four days, and this twisted work trip would finally be over. But for the three of them—Saisha, Aman, and Angel—nothing was anywhere close to normal.
Saisha had spent the day quiet, keeping to herself, unsure how to carry the weight of almost. The almost kiss. The almost confession. The almost moment that Angel had so conveniently ruined.
And just when she thought the storm had passed…
Aman barged into her room.
His eyes—red. His jaw clenched. His fists shaking. And his words, poisoned with the sting of betrayal.
"Not even a word, Saisha."His voice was hard, broken, furious.
"I was there, fighting for you, standing up for you… even against Angel. And this is what you do?"
Saisha stood up, confused, shaken. "Aman, wait, I can explain—"
"I don't need your explanations!" he roared. "How could you do this to Angel? To your friend?"
She flinched.
And then, her face hardened.
"She's not my friend." Her voice was cold, steady. "She ruined my entire life, Aman. She took everything I ever loved."
"Really?" he scoffed, stepping closer. "Now she's the villain too? You're just an attention-seeker. I should've listened to her from the beginning."
Saisha blinked slowly, not because it didn't hurt, but because it did. Deeply. The man in front of her… he didn't look like her Aman. He looked like Angel's version of him.
"Enough." Her voice cracked, but she didn't let it falter. She walked toward him and shut the door behind him with a sharp click.
"Listen to me. First of all, I am not friends with Angel. She's the one who broke me, stole my moments, twisted my story. And now she's pretending...pretending to love you, pretending to be someone she's not. Aman, she's manipulating you."
Aman opened his mouth, but Saisha cut in, stepping closer.
"Last night—it wasn't me, Aman. It was you who pulled me close. You were the one who leaned in. You were the one who said you loved the real me."
"I was drunk, Saisha!" His voice rose." But you weren't. You knew what you were doing and still didn't stop me. That's worse."
Before Saisha could speak, a loud bang shook the door.
"Aman? Aman, open the door!" Angel's voice was full of panic now. "Don't listen to her! She's trying to twist everything. Please!"
Aman turned toward the door.
"I'm done," he muttered, reaching for the handle. "I can't do this anymore. I don't know who you are, Saisha… and honestly, I don't want to."
He opened the door. Angel was standing there, breathless, wide-eyed. Saisha could only watch. Her heart shattering, not with a scream—but with silence. But then… she said the one thing that might make him stop.
"She's not the one, Aman." He paused, his back still facing her.
"I'm your mystery girl." Still no reaction.
Until she whispered, broken but sure—"I'm your babydoll, Aman. Not her."
His body stilled. He didn't turn. He didn't speak. But for that one second—his heart hesitated.
And Angel, clutching his arm, tugged him forward. He walked away.
But not without hearing the truth. And now, it would haunt him.
Saisha's words were echoing in Aman's head like an anthem that refused to fade. "I'm your babydoll, not her, Aman." The way her voice cracked in between those syllables, it looped in his brain louder than Angel's laughter, louder than the cheers around him, louder than reason.
Angel wants to distract Aman from the fact that Saisha just spat, so she took her to a cafe.
"Aman, what would you like to have?" Angel's voice sliced through the air like static, but he didn't react.
"Aman?" she repeated, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"Yeah?" he mumbled, barely turning.
Angel exhaled, feigning softness. "I know you're not in a good mood because of Saisha. But trust me, she's no one."
"Hmm." No arguments. No defense. Not this time.
She distracted aman today, but till when, as aman was unknowingly falling for her.
It had been days since he last checked on Saisha. Neither of them had spoken. They were merely existing in the same space, but never really close. And yet, something had shifted in his core. The doubt, once a whisper, now screamed inside him. What if Angel wasn't the girl he thought she was? And what if… what if Saisha had been telling the truth all along?
He didn't want to believe it. But he was starting to suspect Angel, her avoidance, her shifting stories, her subtle manipulations.
"Baby, today you're not sleepy, and you're finally in a decent mood… please, please tell me that poem again. I really need it." Angel wrapped her arms around him, trying to reel him back in with sweetness. But her eyes faltered.
He didn't reply. He just stared into the void like he was looking for something—perhaps the truth.
Last Day of the Trip
Everyone had gathered in the living room. Laughter filled the air, stories being shared, memories getting sealed into the corners of that house. Aman and Angel weren't there yet—they were late, having sneaked off to be alone. Or more accurately, making out.
Saisha sat with the rest of the group, her calm face hiding a storm. That kiss that never happened, that truth that never got heard… she had buried it beneath layers of grace and silence.
"Guys! Do you all know that Saisha is a writer too?" Aman's assistant suddenly blurted.
"Wait, what? Seriously? We've got to hear something!" another chimed in.
Saisha shook her head with a smile. "No, no, it's just a hobby. Nothing serious."
But the group insisted. And eventually, with a shy breath, she began to recite:
"He wasn't mine, not even a little, not even in dreams, but I still stitched stars to his name in my poems, it seems. I wasn't his muse, I was the ink he never knew spilled, I was the silence in his noise, the space he never filled. He called me nothing, and yet I stayed…Like a whisper in the wind that never truly fades."
Just as she finished the last line, Aman walked in. He froze.
The words hit him like a wave of déjà vu. That poem… that comfort. That warmth. His eyes searched her face, and suddenly… it clicked.
"I'm sure that's stolen too," Angel scoffed, trying to brush it off.
But Aman wasn't listening to her anymore. His eyes were fixed on Saisha like she had just spoken directly to the deepest part of him.
A Few Hours Earlier
He had been questioning everything, every detail.
"Do you remember what nickname I gave you?" he had asked Angel casually.
Angel blinked, her expression unreadable. "Of course… It's something… actually, I'm not that good at remembering small things." She smiled nervously.
Aman tilted his head. "Angel, I was calling you baby this entire trip."
"Yeah, yeah… it was baby! How could I forget?" she nodded quickly.
He leaned in closer, voice lower, firmer. "No, Angel. It was babydoll. The same name Saisha mentioned when she said—'I'm your babydoll, not her.'"
Angel's smile faltered. Her eyes widened just a bit.
"What? Why her again?" she snapped. "Why do you keep bringing up Saisha again and again?"
But Aman didn't answer.
Because deep inside, he already knew—he had been falling for the wrong version of his own fantasy. And maybe… just maybe, the girl he was meant to love had been right in front of him all along.