"𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚."
☆ 𝑹𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒌, was never meant to feel. Heir to a billion-dollar empire, he has everythin...
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⋆｡˚⭒⋆♪.˚~Sehr's Pov:
The late afternoon sunlight streams through the café windows, casting a warm glow over everything. We're at our usual spot—Café Mocha—where the coffee's overpriced, but the vibe is perfect for endless gossip sessions. My friends and I have claimed the corner booth, the one that gives us a good view of everyone else but also enough privacy to laugh our asses off without judgmental stares. I wish Laila were here with us. She's been sick for the past week, and I haven't seen her since then.
Remy is in rare form today, a mischievous glint in her eye that usually means she's about to drop some wild story. Her phone is clutched in one hand, and she's grinning like the Cheshire cat, ready to dish the latest dirt.
"So, girls," Remy starts, leaning in like she's about to tell us a state secret, "guess who slid into my DMs last night?"
We all perk up, Sanem's already rolling her eyes because she knows Remy's type—a walking red flag with a nice smile.
"Let me guess," Bree says, smirking. "Some guy who thinks sending you a half-assed 'hey' at 2 AM is peak romance?"
"Oh, it was worse than that," Remy replies, her grin widening. "This guy actually had the nerve to start with 'Hey beautiful, you look like trouble.'"
I nearly choke on my mocha. "No, he didn't."
"Oh, he did," Remy confirms, her voice dripping with faux seduction as she mimics him. "'You look like trouble,' he said, as if that's supposed to make me swoon."
"You should've replied with 'I am trouble, and you can't handle it,'" Sanem suggests, her tone deadpan but her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Bree snorts. "Or just sent back a GIF of a dumpster fire. That's the only trouble he's about to get into."
Remy laughs, her head thrown back as she taps on her phone. "Ladies, I didn't leave him hanging. I told him, 'Honey, I'm the kind of trouble your mom warned you about. Better stay out of my way if you want to keep your heart intact.'"
Sanem grins, shaking her head. "You're too much, Ree."
"But seriously," I add, smirking, "what's with these guys thinking they can slide into our DMs with the lamest lines and we'll just fall for it?"
Remy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Right? It's like they don't even try anymore. No creativity, no effort."
Bree leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know what you should do next time? Pretend you're some sort of secret agent. Like, 'Sorry, can't flirt, I'm currently undercover in a high-stakes operation to take down a crime syndicate.'"
I laugh, imagining Remy going full James Bond on some clueless guy. "And then when he asks for your number, you tell him it's classified."
Sanem adds, "Or you could say, 'Sure, but it self-destructs after 24 hours.'"
