Chapter 1: The City Never Slept, It Just Pretended To
The city woke before Aariyah did.
By the time she opened her eyes, buses were already coughing awake, vendors were rinsing dust from yesterday's fruit, and the streetlight outside her window blinked twice — not broken, just tired.
Aariyah noticed things like that.
She lay still on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling fan that creaked like it had secrets. Colombo didn't roar the way people said it did. It breathed. Slowly. As if it had learned patience from disappointment.
Her phone vibrated under her pillow.
Ishaan: Good morning. You awake?
She stared at the message longer than necessary.
Love, she had learned, wasn't loud. It arrived softly and stayed quietly — until one day you realized it had rearranged the furniture of your mind.
Yeah, she typed. Just woke up.
Outside, the streetlight flickered once.
Aariyah didn't flinch. She stopped questioning things like that years ago. Some girls noticed emotions. Some noticed patterns. She noticed how the city reacted when she wasn't honest — even with herself.
In the kitchen, Amma was already awake, boiling tea leaves until the smell turned bitter.
"You'll be late again," her mother said without turning.
"I won't."
The kettle hissed. The streetlight flickered again.
School sat squeezed between a pharmacy and a textile shop, its walls stained with rain and ambition. Ishaan was waiting near the staircase, leaning like he belonged everywhere.
"You didn't reply properly," he said, smiling.
"I did."
"You always do this thing," he murmured. "You pull away without moving."
She smiled because explanations scared people.
During literature period, Nimali Miss read aloud:
Some women leave quietly. Others leave cities behind.
Something tightened in Aariyah's chest.
Outside, clouds gathered — but no rain fell.
The city was listening.