Childhood bestfriend

The front door of the house slammed open.

Everyone in the living room immediately looked up.

Yash walked in with a storm following him. His expression was cold, his jaw clenched, and the anger radiating from him was enough to make everyone stay silent.

Nobody dared to ask what happened.

They all knew that look.

They had seen it countless times before — the frustration, the pressure, the weight he carried as the Chief Minister of the state. The whole world saw him as a powerful leader, someone who could handle anything. His family exchanged knowing looks.They weren’t worried. Because they knew there was only one person who could bring him back to himself.

You.

A few minutes later, a car stopped in front of the house.

You stepped out calmly, adjusting your coat as the driver opened the door for you. You handed him the keys.

The moment you entered, Yash’s family looked at you with a small sense of relief.

You gave them a gentle nod.

“He’s upstairs, isn’t he?” you asked.

They didn’t even need to answer.

You already knew.

You had known Yash since childhood.

You knew his moods, his habits, and the places he went when he didn’t want anyone around.

You walked upstairs without hesitation.

Not his office.

Not his room.

The pool.

You pushed open the glass door leading outside.

The sound of water reached your ears.

And there he was.

Yash sat by the edge of the pool, sleeves rolled up, his face still carrying traces of anger.

The most powerful man in the state looked completely alone.