The sticky lemonade dripped from his fingers onto the hot pavement. The world narrowed to a tunnel. Laura's stunned, guilty face; the arrogant smirk twisting the handsome man's mouth; the crushing weight of the ring box in his soaked pocket.
He moved.
Not thinking. Just a raw, primal drive closing the distance.
His shoes squelched faintly. He stopped before them, the stench of spilled sugar and cheap fabric sharp in his nostrils.
His fist clenched around the box, knuckles white against the yellow stain on his shirt.
"What," his voice was low, gravelly, vibrating with a fury he hadn't felt in years, "is the meaning of this, Laura?"
She flinched as if struck. "Aarav! It's… it's not what you think!"
Her voice was too high, too thin. Her eyes darted to the man beside her, then back to Aarav, pleading, panicked. She didn't step away from the stranger.
The handsome man arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, looking Aarav up and down with undisguised contempt.
"Who is this, darling?" His voice was smooth, cultured in the way of arrogance.
Laura swallowed hard, her cheeks flaming. "He's… he's just a friend, Vikram. From… from work." The lie hung in the air, brittle and pathetic.
"Friend?" Aarav barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. It scraped his throat raw.
"I'm her boyfriend. I've been waiting for her in that park for over an hour!" He gestured wildly towards the green space, the movement causing another rivulet of sticky lemonade to run down his arm. "While she was… what? With you?"
Vikram's smirk widened, a cruel twist of perfect lips. He slid a possessive arm around Laura's waist, pulling her closer.
She stiffened but didn't resist. "His woman?" Vikram chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "Look at yourself, gutter rat. Did you bother checking a mirror lately? That face? That stench?" His nose wrinkled theatrically.
"That… stain? What woman in her right mind would claim you?" He laughed, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the street.
The words were like a venom. But Aarav ignored Vikram. His entire being was focused on Laura. The woman who confesses him and said she loves him.
Her gaze was fixed on the pavement now, refusing to meet his.
"So," Aarav's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, the rage replaced by a chilling emptiness.
"The whole year. Every word. Every touch. It was all… a joke? You were playing me?" The ring box felt like a lead weight, a monument to his stupidity.
"No! Aarav, I… I was just…" Laura stammered, tears welling, but they felt performative. "I was trying… I needed…" She took a shaky breath, her voice gaining a sudden, desperate edge.
"Trying what? to get into his pants" Aarav voiced dipped in venom.
She took a shaky breath, her voice gaining a sudden, desperate edge."It was your fault! You were poor, Aarav! Trapped in that nothing job! I thought… I thought maybe…" Her voice rose, laced with accusation now.
"Your sister! The singer! I thought if I was with you… maybe I could meet her! Get a chance! A foot in the door! My dream! But you! Your stubborn, useless pride! You refused! You wouldn't even talk to her! You threw away the one useful thing about you!"
Her words tumbled out, sharp and jagged, each one a knife twisting in the wound she'd opened. "Vikram… Vikram can actually help me. He has connections. He understands ambition. Unlike you."
The words hit Aarav like physical blows.
Useful thing.
His connection to his sister. That's all he ever been. A potential stepping stone.
The warmth Laura had ignited? A calculated lie. The quiet strength she praised? Pathetic weakness in her eyes.
The world tilted. The expensive car, Laura's designer dress , they blurred into a nauseating mirror of everything he wasn't, everything he'd failed to be.
The carefully constructed shell of resigned acceptance he'd worn for years shattered. Not into anger, but into a profound, soul-crushing cold.
He stood there, drenched in cheap lemonade and the bitter dregs of his own delusion.
The ring box in his clenched fist felt alien, grotesque. He looked at Laura, really looked. The tears were drying now, replaced by a hard, defiant glint.
She leaned into Vikram, seeking his approval, his protection.
"You heard her, gutter rat," Vikram purred, tightening his grip on Laura. His eyes held pure, amused malice. "The fantasy's over. Now get lost. Crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of."
Aarav didn't move. He didn't speak.
The cold emptiness inside him spread, numbing the sting of the words, the humiliation of the stain. He simply stared at Laura, the woman who had been his fragile hope.
He saw no flicker of remorse, only impatience, embarrassment that he was still there.
Slowly, deliberately, Aarav unclenched his fist. The small velvet box, slightly damp, sat on his palm. He didn't look at it. He looked only at Laura.
Then, without a word, he turned. He dropped the box. It landed with a soft, insignificant thud on the stained pavement near her expensive heels.
A discarded dream.
He walked away. Not fast. Not slow. Just one foot in front of the other. The sticky lemonade on his clothes felt cold now.
The laughter of the couple behind him Vikram's cruel chuckle, Laura's nervous giggle chased him down the street, mingling with the city's roar.
He didn't look back. There was nothing left to see. The cold wind howled again, biting deeper than before, carrying the scent of exhaust, decay, and the crushing, absolute scent of betrayal.
The neon lights ahead blurred into meaningless streaks of color against the encroaching twilight. Home. The rat infested alley. The cracked ceiling. The crushing, familiar embrace of nothingness awaited. The only thing he truly deserved.
The world blurred into a smear of neon and shadow. Aarav stumbled forward, shoes scuffing against cracked pavement.
The insulting laughter of Vikram, Laura's shrill justification they echoed in his skull, louder than the city's roar.
Disgrace. Coward. Gutter rat.
The words fused with his father's dismissive sighs, his mother's icy silence. The ring box left on the street felt like his soul discarded.
He didn't see the crimson glare of the traffic light. Didn't hear the frantic shouts bursting around him
"Idiot!" "Look out!"
Swallowed by the white noise of his despair. The pavement vibrated beneath his feet.
HOOOOONK!
Sound ripped through the haze. He turned slowly, dully.
Twin suns. Blinding.
'Finally,' the thought slithered, cold and numb. 'Better than… this.'
SCREEEEEEEEEECH!
The tyre screech sound came and.... nothing. Not the crushing impact.
'This is wht it feels to die'
A heavy weight human, smelling of sweat and tobacco collided with him, yanking him violently sideways.
They crashed onto the unforgiving curb, elbows and knees scraping raw. The truck roared past, like a ticket to haeven.
"WAKE… UP!"
The roar wasn't the truck. It was inches from his face. A middle-aged man, face flushed crimson beneath greying stubble, eyes blazing fury and fear, pinned him to the pavement.
His work roughened hands gripped Aarav's stained shirt.
"Are you nuts, young man? Stone deaf and blind?!" Spittle flecked Aarav's cheek. "That light's was red fucker! One second… one bloody second later and you'd meat paste with your brains!" He shook Aarav, hard.
Aarav blinked. Dust stung his eyes. His ribs ached where they'd hit the curb.
Alive.
The realization was a dull thud. '
'Not dead. Saved.' Disappointment, thick and bitter, coated his tongue.
He stared blankly at his rescuer. "Why?"
"What?"
"Why…" Aarav's voice was scraped raw, barely a whisper. "…did you save me?"
The man's fury faltered, replaced by incredulous disgust. He hauled Aarav roughly to his feet.
"Are you out of your mind? Why you want to die? life maybe gives you up and down but to give up and choose a easy way to escape to die is a plain idiocy"
"Why? Because life shove you a rod in your ass So what?!" He jabbed a thick finger at Aarav's chest. "Giving up? Choosing the easy way out? That's not hardship, boy. That's plain, bloody cowardice." The word hit like a physical blow. "Don't you dare throw your life away because some bastards threw themselves away! Understood?!"
The man's eyes bored into him, demanding an answer Aarav couldn't form. Before he could stammer anything-
BEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEP!
Another horn. Desperate. Terrifying.
Aarav's head snapped around. Across the intersection, a battered blue truck careened wildly, tires screeching, moving like a drunkard.
Failed brakes.
And directly in its path, frozen in the middle of the crosswalk like a frightened fawn, a little girl. Maybe five. Pink dress. One tiny sandal dangling from her hand. Her eyes were wide saucers of terror, fixed on the truck bearing down.
Thought vanished. Calculation dissolved. The man's words cowardice echoed, but differently.
Aarav didn't choose. His body automatically moved. A surge of something primal, buried deep beneath years of numbness and despair, erupted.
He launched himself forward, not towards safety, but into the path of the screaming truck. He hit the little girl hard, a desperate, diving shove that sent her tumbling clear onto the opposite sidewalk.
The world tilted. He saw the truck driver's face, white with horror, mouth open in a silent scream behind the grimy windshield.
Not the glancing blow of before.
A colossal, bone-jarring THUD!
That lifted him off his feet. A flash of searing pain.
The sky spun, a dizzying whirl of grey clouds and neon signs. The pavement rushed up to meet him, hard and final. The last sound wasn't the truck crashing, or the screams, or the child crying.
It was the roaring silence rushing in. Then… nothing.
Only Darkness.
He died.
End of story.
.
.
The end of a story barely begun.