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Ava's POV

A Decade Ago 2010

Ava is 11 years old

The muffled sound of voices seeped into my dreams, dragging me into consciousness. Groggy and confused, I rubbed my eyes and stumbled toward the hallway of our second-floor flat. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting soft shadows on the walls.

At the far end of the corridor, my mom stood talking to a woman who balanced a stack of moving boxes effortlessly in her arms. She was elegant yet approachable, her voice carrying warmth that softened her commanding presence.

"Come here, Ava!" my mom called, pulling me out of my daze. "Meet Tara Aunty, our new neighbor."

I hesitated for a moment before walking over and offering a polite smile. "Hi, Aunty. Welcome!"

Her face lit up as she smiled back at me. "Thank you, Ava! What a lovely young lady she is," she said, glancing at my mom. Before I could respond, a boy's voice cut through the air, laced with exaggerated frustration.

"Ma, Dad's making me take the stairs with these boxes. Isn't that child labor? I'm twelve!"

I turned toward the voice and saw him. A boy about my age emerged from the staircase, looking like a carbon copy of Tara Aunty. He was undeniably attractive, his sharp features and confident stride giving him a presence far beyond his years.

But then I saw the boxes he was complaining about—small, almost laughably so compared to what Tara Aunty had been carrying. I couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at my lips.

"Darsh," his mom said with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "We'll talk about that later. Come here and meet our neighbors—Savi Aunty and her daughter, Ava."

His expression shifted instantly, frustration melting into a charming, almost practiced smile. He greeted us with a warmth that didn't match his earlier complaints, leaving me momentarily disarmed.

So, this was Darsh.

The moment the introductions were over, I spun on my heel. "Ma, I'm going to Priti's!" I called out, already halfway down the stairs.

I sprinted to the building next door, my sandals slapping against the pavement, and reached Priti's house in record time. Her dad answered the door, smiling as always. "Morning, Ava!"

"Morning, uncle!" I replied breathlessly, darting past him and up the stairs to Priti's room.

Inside, I found her brushing her teeth, the bathroom door wide open. Typical.

"How many times have I told you not to leave the door open?" I asked, leaning against the doorway.

"How many times have I told you to knock?" she shot back without missing a beat, toothpaste foaming at the corners of her mouth.

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, she grabbed a spare toothbrush and shoved it into my hand.

"How did you know I haven't brushed yet?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You've got a little drool on the left side," she replied casually, her smirk deepening.

It hit me like a lightning bolt. That charming smile Darsh had given earlier? It wasn't a smile at all. He was laughing at me—because of the drool.

Priti watched as realization dawned on my face. "So, I'm guessing someone moved into the flat across from yours?"

I sighed, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, there's a new boy around our age. He's alright, I guess."

"Mmhmm," she replied, raising an eyebrow, her skepticism clear.

I caved. "Fine! One: he looks like he walked straight off a magazine cover. Two: he's a year older than me, same as you. Three: I might have liked him because of his cute little complaints. And four: only you and Kyra are allowed to know about this!" I held up four fingers for emphasis.

Priti's grin widened. "Got it. Now bring Darsh to the game this evening."

I froze. "Wait... how do you know his name?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She didn't answer. Instead, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving me standing there, flustered and annoyed.

Later at breakfast, I couldn't contain my irritation. Leaning across the table, I glared at Priti. "I've known you for a decade, and I'm only eleven. Why have I never heard about this cousin of yours?"

Priti simply shrugged, entirely unbothered. "It's okay. Your secret's safe with me," she said with a knowing smirk.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Why did I even bother?

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