Sunday mornings felt different.
Slower.
Less crowded.
The road stretched ahead, quiet except for the occasional passing bike and the distant sound of a vendor calling out.
"Today, no excuses," Dev said firmly, walking ahead like a self-declared leader.
"You've been saying that for a week," Kabir replied. "We came. Be grateful."
"Coming isn't enough," Dev said. "You have to train properly."
Ayaan adjusted his sleeves calmly. "We'll survive."
Vijay walked beside them, hands in his pockets, not saying much—but not silent either.
"…You forced this," he said to Dev.
Dev grinned. "And you'll thank me later."
They had already changed before coming out.
And it showed.
Dev Malhotra
Black sleeveless gym shirt, slightly tight—on purpose.
Grey joggers. Wristbands.
Narrator:
Dev didn't just train—he lived for it. Every movement, every step carried that energy.
Kabir Rana
Loose t-shirt, slightly wrinkled.
Track pants that didn't match.
Narrator:
Kabir dressed like effort was optional—and somehow made it work.
Ayaan Sheikh
Simple fitted t-shirt. Clean.
Dark joggers.
Narrator:
Ayaan preferred comfort over style—but still looked put together without trying.
Vijay Dev
Dark grey half-sleeve t-shirt.
Black track pants.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing loud.
But—
Narrator:
Some people don't try to stand out.
They just… do.
The gym smelled of metal and effort.
Weights clanged. Machines moved. Music played low in the background.
"Warm-up first," Dev ordered.
Kabir groaned. "We just got here."
"And you'll leave if I don't force you."
"…Fair."
Training started.
Push-ups.
Weights.
Pull-ups.
Minutes turned into effort.
Effort turned into exhaustion.
"Again," Dev said.
Kabir dropped to the floor.
"I'm seeing stars."
"That's called weakness."
"You're called annoying."
Vijay didn't speak much.
But he kept going.
Repetition after repetition.
Controlled.
Steady.
Sweat gathered.
Breathing deepened.
The heat built up.
And finally—
Vijay stepped back.
"…Too hot," he muttered.
He pulled off his gym shirt.
For a second—
no one spoke.
Dev looked at him.
Then let out a low whistle.
"Okay… I didn't expect that."
Kabir sat up slightly.
"…What?"
Then he saw.
Vijay stood there casually.
Not posing.
Not trying.
But his body—
spoke for itself.
Visible abs.
Wide shoulders.
A well-defined chest.
Arms that carried strength naturally.
Even without flexing—
his biceps held shape.
Narrator:
He didn't build it for attention.
He built it without realizing when it started.
"…You've been hiding this?" Dev said.
Vijay frowned. "It's normal."
"No," Dev replied immediately. "That's not normal."
Kabir pointed weakly.
"I feel insulted."
Dev stepped forward.
"Move."
He cracked his neck slightly—
then pulled off his own shirt.
Dev's physique
More aggressive.
More trained.
Larger frame.
Sharper muscle cuts.
Veins slightly visible.
"I work for this," Dev said proudly.
Kabir clapped slowly.
"Congratulations. You win."
Dev ignored him—
then suddenly grabbed Kabir's shirt.
"Wait—what are you—"
RIP.
Silence.
Kabir froze.
Looking down.
"…You did not just do that."
Dev stepped back, grinning.
"Now it's fair."
Kabir's body wasn't weak—
just… normal.
The others stared.
Then—
Laughter exploded.
Even Vijay couldn't hold it this time.
"You're paying for that," Kabir said, trying to sound serious.
"You needed exposure," Dev replied.
Ayaan stood nearby—
watching.
"…We should eat protein-rich food after this," he said calmly.
Kabir stared at him.
"We're having a moment."
"And I'm thinking ahead."
Later—
they sat inside Ayaan's family restaurant.
Warm lighting.
Clean space.
Comfortable.
"You're lucky," Kabir said. "Free food."
"Not free," Ayaan replied. "Just… discounted."
Close enough.
Ayaan disappeared into the kitchen.
Minutes later—
plates arrived.
The smell alone—
was enough.
"Okay… this looks illegal," Dev said.
They started eating.
And instantly—
Silence.
Good food did that.
"This is insane," Kabir said between bites.
Ayaan nodded slightly. "I tried something new."
"Try more," Dev added.
Vijay leaned back slightly.
Watching them.
Listening.
This—
was easy.
Simple.
Real.
Far from there—
Riya stood in a dimly lit room.
No school uniform.
No soft expression.
Just silence.
A man stood in front of her.
Speaking.
Low voice.
Serious tone.
"…You understand what needs to be done."
Riya didn't respond immediately.
Then—
She nodded.
Her expression—
calm.
Controlled.
And completely different.