'Aiden.'
Lindsey's words resurfaced in my mind, persistent and nagging. Why would she bring that name again?
As I rode my bike, I found myself smiling bitterly. "Aiden Kashmir," I muttered the name, feeling the weight of it settle uncomfortably in my throat. It was strange—familiar yet somehow foreign, like an old song that evoked distant memories but whose words had long drifted from my mind.
That name hadn't come up in a long time. It had been so long since anyone had dared to utter it in my presence, and I hated that it had resurfaced now. It was a name I didn't want to hear, a name that I had carefully sealed somewhere deep in my memories and tried to push it to the darkest corners of my brain.
