ANKITA'S POV
I finally shifted.
I came back to Delhi.
My hometown.
I am a struggling writer and I needed the comfort of hometown.
I lived in Bangalore until yesterday,
I completed my Masters in literature and I wanted to author a novel.
But well, it seems like an impossible task.
Becoming an author is a dream that I dreamt when I was inspired by my home town. Different people, different culture, so much of history.
So, maybe, coming back here, will bring back that zeal.
It took me around two weeks to get everything in order and from past one week, I started working on my novel in a cafe that is situated right around my apartment.
I have a great story line and I just want to keep writing, just in case my flow doesn't... Flow anymore.
I had this writer block and this is not a joke.
But what is a joke is there are two women who keep looking at me since my day one here at this cafe.
I have no idea who they are.
Everyday.
I, sometimes, just want to go to them and ask them about the whatever they are doing but I control myself.
They can easily say they were looking at something else and I'll be doomed.
Stranger: You are Mr. Malhotra's daughter. Right?
Oh! So they know my dad.
My dad is kind of popular around here.
He is a person who is super kind. So yeah, people might know him. And I am an exact copy of my dad. It isn't hard for anyone to know that I am his daughter.
Me: It took you about a week to ask me this?
My patience has limits and I have reached them this time.
Stranger: I am sorry. I know it's kind of creepy to notice a stranger gawking at you but you seemed busy. Always.
So, I didn't want to disturb you.
And I can take my attitude away.
Me: I am sorry.
I was just frustrated.
Please. Take a seat.
Stranger: I am Virat Kohli's mom. Saroj Kohli.
Oh my god. This didn't happen.
What!!!
I am staring. I need to speak. What do I speak?
Should I say sorry? I already did that.
Okay. I should speak about something.
Nice to meet you? Yeah. Good. That would do.
Me: Nice to meet you. And- Yeah. I am Mr. Malhotra's daughter. Ankita Malhotra.
How do you know my dad, Mrs. Kohli?
Mrs. Kohli: Please, call me aunty. And We were all good friends back then.
Me: Okay, aunty.
Aunty: So, what do you do?
Me: I am about to write a novel.
Aunty: Good. Good.
You know my son?
Me: It's kind of hard not to know him.
Aunty: Don't tell him that on this Sunday when you come to dinner.
Oh! So she invited me to her house? For dinner?
And she asked me not to say something to Virat Kohli? The Virat Kohli?
Great.
I need some time to process this news and for a week now, I can say goodbye to this book of mine.
Nerves won't let me write.
VIRAT'S POV
My mom kept talking about a girl she met at the cafe.
Ankita Malhotra.
And I am 100 percent sure she is trying to set me up with her.
I told her I am not looking for anything serious right now.
But she just won't listen to me.
The bell rang and my mom sprinted towards the door.
Great.
Ankita: Hello, Aunty!
Aunty? That's new.
Mom: Come on in.
This is my son Virat.
Me: Hi
