Anaya zipped up the last file, straightened the stack of folders, and carefully dropped them into her bag. The café had thinned out, only a few people scattered at their tables, faces lit up by laptop screens or phones. [Soft jazz music plays in the background], a faint melody that felt oddly hollow against the steady rhythm of rain against the windows. [Rain patters steadily]
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and headed toward the door. But just as her fingers touched the glass handle, a gust of wind slapped the pane hard. [THUMP. Whoosh of wind] The downpour intensified. [Rain lashes against the windows] Thick, merciless sheets of rain blurred the city outside into shadows and headlights. It was the kind of rain that didn't just pass by—it settled in.
Anaya paused, her hand still on the door.
"No point now," she muttered to herself, turning back.
She returned to the table she had just cleared but didn't sit. Instead, she stood with her arms folded, looking out the window.
A few steps behind her, Satiya broke the silence. "Looks like the weather forgot its script."
She didn't turn around. "Weather's like that. Doesn't need a script."
[Distant thunder rumbles]
There was a beat of quiet. The kind that fills with unspoken thoughts.
[Coffee machine hisses softly at the counter]
He tried again, his voice lighter this time. "You used to like rain. Remember? Said it made the world feel honest."
Anaya's fingers curled slightly around her bag strap. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I said that in 4th grade. People change."
Satiya smiled faintly, then walked to the counter. [Footsteps fade, light clatter of cups]
"Some don't. You still order hot chocolate when it rains. Or do you drink something moodier now?"
She didn't reply. Her silence wasn't icy—just firm, like a boundary gently but clearly drawn.
Moments later, he returned holding a small paper cup. [Footsteps approach. A soft thud as he places the cup down] The smell of fresh brew wafted up—coffee, rich and slightly bitter.
"Before you say no—" he held it out—"you're shivering. And I didn't ask the barista to lace it with guilt or nostalgia."
Anaya eyed the cup. "I don't need it."
"I know," he said, still holding it. "But that doesn't mean you don't deserve it."
She sighed. [Inhale. Exhale.] It wasn't just the cold now—it was the quiet, the waiting, the weight of too much unfinished between them. She took the cup with a quiet "Thanks," then sat down again. [Chair scrapes slightly]
Satiya sat opposite her. Neither of them spoke for a minute.
[Jazz continues softly. Rain taps rhythmically outside]
He watched her fingers curl around the cup, steam rising between them like a fragile barrier. His own hands were clasped together on the table, thumbs fidgeting. He opened his mouth once, then closed it.
She didn't look up.
He took a breath, voice barely above a whisper. "Anaya, I..."
But before he could finish, the café door opened with a chime.
They both turned.
At the café entrance, slightly soaked and brushing raindrops from his jacket, stood Pradeep. [Door bell jingles. Rain intensifies momentarily in background]
She blinked in surprise. "Pradeep?"
He stepped in, shaking water off his sleeves. [Fabric rustles. Water droplets hit the floor] "I was nearby for work. Then the sky had... other plans."
She walked toward him—not rushing, just a natural motion—and met him halfway. "You didn't get drenched, did you?"
"Only mildly tragic," he deadpanned. "But I saw this place and figured I'd crash here until the rain decides to stop drowning the city."
They walked back to her table, and as they approached, Pradeep noticed the other figure sitting there. He stopped slightly, eyes narrowing.
Satiya looked up too—and immediately smiled. "Oh, boyfriend guy."
Anaya almost choked on her coffee. [Coughs lightly, stifling a laugh]
Pradeep raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend... what?"
Satiya leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Yeah, last time we met—in that other café. You introduced yourself as her boyfriend. You two still going strong?"
Anaya and Pradeep shared a split-second look—of mutual confusion, dawning memory, and that oh-no realization. It was over a month ago. Pradeep had pretended to be her boyfriend to get her out of an awkward moment. And now that little lie had boomeranged back.
"Oh," Pradeep said slowly, "Right. That."
Anaya cleared her throat. [Clears throat awkwardly] "Yeah. Still... going strong."
Her voice didn't shake, but it had that deliberate calm people use when assembling a lie they now have to live in.
Pradeep didn't miss a beat. "Stronger than ever." [Chair creaks slightly as he sits beside her]
Satiya raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, that escalated quietly."
Anaya smiled tightly. "Some things are better that way."
The tension could've thickened, but something about the absurdity of it all made it feel like the start of a sitcom episode.
Pradeep slid into the seat beside her, his body language relaxed but his eyes assessing Satiya like someone who wasn't entirely sure if they were dealing with sarcasm or genuine interest.
"You were here for work too?" he asked Satiya, casually wrapping one arm along the back of Anaya's chair. [Fabric shift. Chair creak.]
Satiya noticed the motion. His smile widened. "Nah, came to help a friend with his café project. And... to recover something I forgot. Something kind of precious."
Anaya placed the said watch in front of him. [Soft tap as metal hits the table] "Recovered."
Satiya gave her a grateful nod. "From you, I'll always find what I forget."
That earned a sharp glance from Pradeep, which Anaya caught.
"Oh?" Pradeep said with an almost playful edge. "Because usually I'm the one who helps her find things. Like her voice notes folder, two weeks ago? Total mess. Took me an hour."
Anaya sighed. "Both of you stop. I'm capable of locating basic digital folders."
Satiya smirked. "She's always been stubborn about asking for help. Remember how she tried to carry three science projects to school without assistance?"
Pradeep leaned forward. "Did she ever tell you how she argued with a cab driver over 8 rupees and still won?"
"That's new," Satiya said, clearly amused.
"Her victory dance was... unforgettable," Pradeep added, clearly enjoying this now.
Anaya raised an eyebrow. "Okay, what is this? A 'Who Knows Her Better' contest or just a coordinated effort to make fun of me?"
They spoke at the same time.
Pradeep: "No—"
Satiya: "Maybe—"
They both looked at each other, then started laughing. [Laughter overlaps, light and genuine]
Anaya rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Children. Both of you."
Satiya leaned his chin into his palm. "You know, it's funny. A month ago, I didn't even know you two were... serious."
Pradeep shrugged. "We're not very public."
Anaya sipped her coffee and didn't speak. [Cup gently placed on saucer] She let them talk, letting the moment breathe.
Outside, the rain poured on. [Steady rain continues]
Satiya shifted, his voice a little softer now. "I guess I missed a lot."
There was no bitterness in his tone, but something quieter—acknowledgment, perhaps. That he wasn't the center of her world anymore. Maybe never was.
Anaya finally looked at him. "Some stories don't stop. They just... change genres."
He gave a small smile at that. "And some characters change roles."
Pradeep looked at her. "Which role am I in, again?"
Anaya didn't answer directly. She just nudged his elbow with hers and said, "The one where you don't get wet in a rainstorm again."
He mock-saluted. "Noted." [Playful salute noise]
A few more minutes passed like that. The kind of moments that don't demand words. [Jazz fades slightly as ambient rain takes over] The café lights flickered once—just briefly—[Lights buzz, then stabilize] and the barista dimmed the music.
Satiya stood first. [Chair scrapes back quietly] "I should head back. Rain might keep going, but my cab driver's patience won't."
He looked at Pradeep, then Anaya. "It was... good seeing you."
She nodded, polite. "You too."
As he walked to the door, he turned back once.
"Oh—and I wasn't joking about the coffee thing. You still like hot chocolate. Admit it."
Anaya just shook her head with a small smile.
Then he left, stepping into the rain without looking back. [Door opens. Wind gusts. Bell chimes. Door shuts.]
Pradeep leaned closer. "So... boyfriend, huh?"
Anaya groaned. "Don't start."
"I think I wore the wrong shoes for this role."
"You wore the wrong attitude."
They both laughed. [Soft laughter, fading into silence]
Outside, the storm rolled on. [Thunder in the distance]
Inside, something had shifted again—not dramatically. Just slightly. Like a page turned without tearing.
---
To be continued....