It had only been a day since she’d seen him..Vihaan. Just a single, ordinary day since that accidental meeting at the cafe and yet, something had shifted inside her. Something small, unspoken, but present… like a loose thread tugging gently at her every time she tried to ignore it. In the quietest of moments, it surfaced like now, as she jogged through the streets circling the stadium, the air soft and forgiving, not too warm, not too cold. Just the right kind of morning to quiet her head before training.
The city wasn’t awake yet. Auto horns groaned in the distance, a cycle bell chimed somewhere, and the familiar smells of roadside breakfast wafted in dust, frying oil, and someone heating up milk for tea.
She rounded the corner near the old sharbat stall, her pace steady, ponytail swaying behind her when her steps faltered.
Vihaan.
He was standing there, leaning slightly against the counter, one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, the other holding a glass dripping with condensation-mosambi sharbat, unmistakably and icy. His helmet balanced carelessly on his bike seat, and he was mid-conversation with the vendor. A breeze swept past, carrying his voice faintly toward her, but her mind had gone blank,the breathing process long forgotten and her heartbeat trippled in a way that had nothing to do with her jog.
She should’ve kept running. Maybe slipped past without catching his eye.
But he turned just then and saw her.
His gaze locked with hers from across the narrow street. It wasn’t a smile, not even a nod just stillness, like neither of them quite believed the other was real.
He started walking towards her.
Nivya stood frozen, pulse racing in a way her jog couldn’t explain. Her hoodie sleeves suddenly felt too long, her breath too loud. She tried to pray to Bholenath to teleport her somewhere else, anywhere else.
“Morning,” Vihaan said as he reached her, his voice softer than usual, like he wasn’t sure how loud he was allowed to be.
She matched his tone. “Morning.”
He gave her a quick once-over, not in a rude way just curious,“You look like you actually slept.”
She blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?Seriously? That’s your opener?”
(Cursed him in her mind, pagal admi aisa kaun convo starta karta hai)
He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… you look nice too. Just more rested. Less… battle-ready.”
Against her better judgment, she let a small smirk escape,“Hmn Eight hours. First time in weeks.”
“There you go,” he said, like it proved something. “Told you this city was good for you.”
She arched an eyebrow, “Debatable.”
The conversation hovered awkwardly for a second. Then he held out his sharbat.
“Here. Taste this. Too much lemon. I think I licked a car battery.”
She stared at him,“You want me to drink your leftover sharbat?”
“Arey no dah, just one sip. Consider it a welcoming gift..but I’m warning you off about the taste though.”
Suspiciously, she took the glass and tasted it. Immediately grimaced and said "God, they want to murder our taste buds or what!?”
“Told you,” he grinned. “We’re victims.”
She shook her head, trying not to smile. But the ease between them had started returning, bit by bit.
He gestured toward the road and said, “Wanna walk a bit?”
YOU ARE READING
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Short StoryNivya Desai is your average engineering student with a national medal, a soft spot for stray dogs, and an unhealthy obsession with bikes. She's awkward, impulsive, and way too emotionally attached to Bullet. One late-night scroll leads her to him-V...
