And now?
We're in our first year of college.
And he is a walking headline.
No exaggeration—Aarib looks like he's been through a training montage in a movie. Same guy, same face, but now his jawline could cut glass, his hair's got that perfect volume that makes it look like he doesn't try (even though he probably does), and his frame—no longer skinny—actually fills out his shirt like he was built to wear it.
He comes to college on an old bike that makes more noise than it moves. His father earns twenty thousand a month working a modest job. Aarib still wears borrowed clothes—his best friend's shirt, someone else's jacket. But it doesn't matter.
People don't care about the bike, or the borrowed jeans. Because Aarib's got something else now. Aura. Mystery. Magnetism.
Girls cry over him—literally. I've seen it with my own eyes. One girl broke down in the library after he rejected her. Another threw a bracelet at him and stormed off. There's even talk that his own sister has gotten infamous just for being related to him—her reputation tangled in rumors and college gossip.
Aarib doesn't just walk into rooms anymore. He enters like he owns the place.