The moment Azara left, Aryan was consumed by a sense of emptiness that enveloped him. He let out a heavy sigh and gazed up at the sky, pondering, "Was there a better way for me to confess?"
Meanwhile, Azara stood by the window, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her dupatta. She contemplated whether or not to speak to him, her feelings for him clear in her mind, yet hindered by a certain truth she knew Aryan would struggle to accept.
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