Atlas

He was Kota’s best friend. Then he became his sister’s boyfriend. And now? Kota doesn’t even know what the hell they are. Atlas used to be all warmth—stupid jokes, late-night drives, comfort wrapped in crooked smiles and worn-out hoodies. He knew Kota better than anyone. He was his person. But something broke the night Atlas fell for her. Now he’s different—colder, sharper, unreachable. A CEO with a jawline sharp enough to wound and a carefully cultivated charm he only ever seems to save for her. To Kota, Atlas is arrogance. Distance. Condescending remarks dressed up as cleverness. And maybe—maybe—still watching him when no one else is looking. They don’t talk about what happened. About that one night everything flipped, when Kota stopped being his favorite person. They don’t talk about how Atlas’s hand lingered too long in the dark, or how his voice cracked when he whispered Kota’s name like it meant something. Because now Atlas is hers. He kisses her. Smiles at her. Lives in a version of the world where Kota is nothing more than her younger brother. But in the quiet, in the moments where no one else is watching—in the tension that crackles when they’re alone—Kota feels it. Atlas hasn’t let go. And neither has he. This isn’t a love story. It’s a slow, quiet fall into a kind of chaos they won’t come back from. Because wanting someone you can’t have is hard. But wanting someone who chose your sister? That’s a whole new kind of cruel.