Siri's POV
I spotted him before he saw me.
His bike turned the corner, headlights slicing through the late afternoon haze as it neared the gate of my office building. He wasn't rushing, wasn't doing anything attention-grabbing. Just riding up casually, as if this were something he did every day. And yet… even that small act felt like a quiet promise.
He pulled up, slowed to a stop, and finally noticed me standing under the neem tree near the parking shed. His eyes softened instantly.
"Hi," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Hi," I replied, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen across my cheek. The breeze had picked up, and I tucked the strand behind my ear with slow fingers, still watching him.
There was something oddly reassuring about seeing him there—like some part of my world that had tilted wildly last night was trying to balance itself again. He didn't ask questions. Didn't prod or look at me with pity. He was just… here.
I walked to the bike and climbed on gently, careful not to brush against him. I deliberately left a small gap between us, not because I didn't want to be close, but because I didn't know what closeness meant anymore. I didn't want him to think I was withdrawing—but I also didn't want him to think I was trying too hard.
He kicked the stand up and started the bike, but before we moved, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Hungry?"
The question came so casually, like a pebble tossed into still water. But the ripples it left behind were surprising.
I blinked. "Kind of."
"Good," he said, and with that, we rode off.
For a minute, I thought we were heading home. But then, just before the main road, he took a sudden left turn, one that led away from the direction of our houses. I furrowed my brows but didn't ask. I trusted him.
We weaved through narrower lanes, the wind growing cooler, scented faintly with marigolds from a flower stall we passed. Just as I began to wonder where he was taking me, he slowed down and pulled up in front of a small café tucked between a stationery shop and a boutique.
It wasn't a fancy place. Nothing too modern or loud. Just a quiet corner, strung with warm yellow fairy lights that blinked softly in the dusk. Wooden benches sat outside beneath a wide canopy of leaves, and a board hung near the door with today's specials scribbled in bright chalk.
I stared at the place, my lips parting slightly in surprise. "This place…"
He was already parking the bike, glancing up at the café like it was familiar.
"They still serve your favorite, right?" he asked, cutting the engine.
I turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes, a teasing tone slipping into my voice. "How do you know this café is my favorite?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. "Indu might have told me."
I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. "Chocolate milkshake?"
"And cold coffee for me," he said, hopping off the bike. "Be right back."
I watched as he walked toward the counter, his frame outlined by the golden glow of the fairy lights. He looked tired but determined, and something about that stirred an ache in my chest I hadn't realized I'd been carrying all day.
We chose a corner bench under the open sky. The wooden table between us had faint carvings etched into it—initials, hearts, forgotten doodles made by past visitors. The drinks arrived a few minutes later, placed with a quiet clink on the table. I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass of milkshake and brought it to my lips.
The first sip made me close my eyes.
He remembered.
He remembered something about me I hadn't even mentioned directly. And that realization settled inside me like warmth spreading through cold fingers.
I didn't know why it made me feel so… seen. So quietly understood.
---
Bhargav's POV
She looked calmer now.
Not completely fine—not yet—but lighter, like something heavy had been set down inside her.
There was a flush in her cheeks again, probably from the milkshake or the breeze. But whatever it was, it made her look more alive than she had last night. That soft smile that lingered on her lips while she drank... I wanted to freeze it. Frame it. It was the kind of smile that untangled something in my chest.
She stared at the table for a second, then glanced up.
"Thanks for this," she said, her voice quiet but sincere.
I shrugged, leaning back slightly. "I owed you a drink after that lecture on the terrace."
Her laugh burst out—short and free, like the sound of a bell in wind. Real. Unfiltered. It made the corners of my mouth lift without permission. I could live inside that sound for hours and not feel time pass.
We sat there a little while longer, sipping our drinks, talking about nothing in particular. The moon had begun to rise above the rooftops, casting a silver sheen over the café walls. I didn't want the moment to end, but when we stood up and returned to the bike, I knew I was already going to miss this evening.
The ride back was quiet.
At least from the outside.
Inside? I was a mess. My thoughts kept circling back to her smile, her quietness, the sudden way she'd hugged me last night and how shattered she'd looked. I kept wondering—Was she really okay? Was she pretending? Did she call me because she needed someone or because she needed me?
None of those questions had answers. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But one thing mattered more than all of them:
She had called me.
She chose me.
Halfway home, something changed.
I felt her shift slightly on the seat behind me. And then—barely there, like a breeze brushing my shoulder—her hand touched me.
Just rested there.
Soft. Light. But the weight of it sent a rush through me. My heartbeat jumped, stuttered, then settled into something oddly calm.
I didn't look back. I didn't want to startle her, didn't want her to pull away. I just kept riding, letting that simple touch fill the silence between us.
And I smiled.
---
Siri's POV
I don't know what made me do it.
Maybe it was the way he didn't ask a single question about last night. Or how he remembered my favorite drink. Or maybe it was just the silence—the kind that didn't demand anything from me. That gave me space to breathe.
Whatever it was, I reached forward and let my hand settle gently on his shoulder. Not in some bold, dramatic way. Just… soft. Honest.
Like a thank you that didn't need words.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't tense.
He didn't say anything. But somehow, I knew he'd smiled.
And that was enough.
When we reached home, he stopped near our gates. The air felt cooler now, the sky dusky and deep. I climbed down slowly, letting my hand linger on his shoulder for a second longer before pulling away.
Just as I turned toward my gate, voices called out.
"Bhargav!"
I turned slightly.
There they were—his mother and Indu—standing outside their house like they had been waiting. Their expressions were half amusement, half interrogation. Amma had her hands on her hips; Indu had a smirk she wasn't bothering to hide.
Both of them looked at me, then at Bhargav. Then back again.
I looked at Bhargav. He was scratching the back of his neck like a boy caught skipping class.
"Uh-oh," he murmured under his breath.
A giggle slipped past my lips before I could stop it. "You're in trouble," I whispered, eyes dancing with mischief.
He glanced at me sideways, smiling in that boyish, lopsided way. "Totally worth it," he whispered back.
And for the first time in what felt like weeks…
I walked inside my house smiling.
To be continued...