Harper possessed a rare talent - she could blend two worlds that the universe swore could never coexist: her humdrum life as an accountant by day with her steamy famous alter ego crafting erotic tales online by night.
But her double life unravels...
❝You're talkin' to me like I'm dumb Well I've got news, I've got a lot to say There's nothing you can do to take that away❞
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The days that followed were a living nightmare. Aryan, in an unspoken act of solidarity with Aiden, shifted to stay with him in his room, silently giving back my space. Both of them steered clear of me like I were a contagious disease, their deliberate avoidance serving as a resounding testament to the havoc my words had caused.
One morning, unable to hide out in my room any longer, I ventured into the kitchen, hoping for a semblance of normalcy.
Aryan was already there, making himself a sandwich. I moved past him to the cupboards and reached for a bagel before turning to look at him and attempt another break at the silence.
"Aryan—"
"I hope you know," he started, his normally soft voice hardened and instantly drowning mine out, "Just because a person comes from money doesn't mean they're made from it."
I already knew this. Hell, I'd said the same words defending Aiden to Megan before. And yet, here I was, really hearing them for the first time.
"What you said to him the other day...you've got it all wrong," he continued, the contempt in his voice growing by the second. "True art...be it writing, painting, or even fashion...it doesn't have to maniest from pain or some tortured path to be a qualifying factor. It's not about privilege, or the lack thereof. All it really comes down to, Harper, is raw emotion."
"Ary—"
He spoke even louder, cutting me off again.
"It's about baring your soul and Aiden? He's got that in spades. He's all soul there ever could be in a person, Harper."
Aryan;s eyes blazed with passion for his best friend, his hands waving the sandwich around in the air as if to mold his thoughts into tangible forms.
"You think he's riding on some silver spoon? No. He's got integrity that's unshakable. If it were as shallow as you insinuated, he would've cashed in on his mom's offer to buy his art from him ages ago. The art that you see on the walls here and in the living room."
My mouth dropped open at that and Aryan smirked.
"Bet you didn't know that, did you? His family could've created a gallery, slapped their name on it, and thrust him into the limelight. But he said no. He refused. He refused to be a sell-out. Because that's not him. That's not what his art stands for. And that's integrity."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not finished," Aryan huffed, putting a hand on his waist.
I pressed my lips together and nodded, letting him have his moment.
"Aiden could have taken the easy route and used his family's wealth to buy success. But he never did," Aryan continued, his voice quivering with emotion. "He's been dedicated, Harper. Truly dedicated. Never swayed by the temptations of shortcuts or the comforts of privilege. You just don't see it."
