No Strings Attached

Chapter Three: Unfinished Edges

The café had a heartbeat of its own. A steady, rhythmic pulse that intensified before a big event—staff weaving in and out of the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces filling the air, the distant hum of the ocean blending into the controlled chaos. Agashi thrived in moments like these, where everything had to be perfect, where there was no room for second-guessing.
And yet, somehow, Kabir had found a way in.
Not just into her thoughts. Not just into the tension-filled space between them.
But into her café.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Yet there he was, standing behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, a slow smirk playing on his lips as he effortlessly shook up a cocktail under Gisela's watchful eye.
"Twist your wrist more," she instructed, watching him critically. "You want the mix aerated properly, not just splashing around."
"Like this?" he asked, adjusting his technique.
She nodded approvingly. "Not bad, intern."
Intern.
Agashi still wasn't sure how the hell that had happened.
She hadn't been the one to approve his application. That was all Gisela.
The bartender had found his request in their inbox, noted his prior experience, and signed off without so much as a heads-up to Agashi. By the time she realized what had happened, it was too late—Kabir was already scheduled for a trial shift.
And, much to her annoyance, he was good. Too good.
He moved behind the bar like he belonged there, like he'd been there for months instead of days. He knew how to pour, how to gauge a crowd, how to keep conversations flowing without missing a beat. It didn't help that Gisela liked him—had even declared, "He's got potential" after his first shift.
That had been two days ago.
And now, here he was, settling into her space.
"Hey, Agashi—where do you want the wine crates?" Avedh called out, balancing a box on one shoulder.
"Stack them near the cellar. I'll check inventory after plating is done," she answered, barely looking up as she drizzled a finishing sauce over a dish.
"Got it. Hey, Kabir, give me a hand?"
She stilled for a second. Avedh didn't realize what he was doing, didn't know that he'd just given Kabir an opening he shouldn't have.
And, of course, Kabir took it.
"Sure," he said easily, pushing off the bar and stepping past her station, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the rich aromas of her kitchen. He wasn't even trying to linger, but he did, and she hated how keenly aware she was of it.
She forced herself to ignore him.
Focus. This event needed to be flawless. The pairings had to be precise, the plating immaculate. This wasn't just about the food—it was about the experience.
But even as she tried to shut everything else out, she caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye. Moving effortlessly as if he belonged. Lifting crates, joking with Avedh, pulling Gisela into some ridiculous conversation that made her throw her head back in laughter.
He fit in too easily.
And that was a problem.
—
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the café in deep hues of amber and gold, the prep was nearly done. Agashi stood at the main counter, tasting a final dish, tweaking flavors, adjusting textures.
She needed one more opinion.
"Rohan, come try this," she called out, expecting her Chef de Partie to step forward.
Instead, someone else did.
"Didn't realize I was on the tasting panel," Kabir mused, picking up the fork before she could protest.
She should have stopped him. Should have snatched the plate back, told him to leave.
But she didn't.
She just watched as he took a slow bite, his expression giving away nothing.
Then he licked a bit of sauce off his thumb.
She looked away.
"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms.
He set the fork down, leaning in just slightly. "It's good."
"That's it?"
He tilted his head, considering. "The balance is nearly perfect. But the citrus notes could be dialed up just a little. You want it to cut through the richness, not drown in it."
Damn it.
He was right.
She hated that he was right.
Her jaw tightened. "Noted."
He grinned, clearly entertained by her annoyance. "You do take this mentor thing seriously."
She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.
—
The café had emptied out. The event had gone off without a hitch—guests raving about the menu, the wine flowing freely, the night settling into a haze of laughter and quiet conversations.
Agashi should have gone home.
Instead, she stayed behind, methodically wiping down counters, checking the last of the inventory, letting the exhaustion settle in her bones.
She wasn't alone.
She heard the clink of a glass before she even turned around.
Kabir was at the bar, rolling a tumbler between his fingers, watching her with that unreadable expression.
"You don't have to stay," she said, not looking up.
"Neither do you."
She exhaled, shaking her head. "I run this place."
"And yet, you're the only one still working."
She should have ignored him. Should have picked up her things and walked out without another word.
Instead, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him carefully.
His gaze flickered over her, lingering for a second too long.
"Say it," he murmured.
"Say what?"
"That you've been thinking about that night."
Her stomach tightened.
She didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Because the silence between them? It said enough.