The train rocked gently as it cut through the morning fog, the world outside blurring into green fields and half-asleep towns.

I leaned against the window, letting the cool glass press against my forehead, watching as telephone poles flickered past.

Long train rides always made me think too much.

Maybe that’s why, out of nowhere, I started thinking about that day.

The day I realized I wasn’t exactly like everyone else.

It Was Never a Big Moment.

I think I always knew, in some way or the other.

Not in a dramatic, filmy way—just small things that made sense only in hindsight.

Like how, in school, when my friends talked about their crushes, I’d just go along with it.

"Arre Vihaan, who do you like?"

And I’d name a random girl from class, because that’s what you were supposed to do.

I never thought much about it. It wasn’t like I was lying—I just didn’t feel anything.

Not until….. It Was Him.

It was chemistry class.

He wasn’t my best friend or my rival or anything straight out of a movie.

Just a guy.

The kind of guy who never had to try too hard. He’d lean back in his chair like he belonged everywhere. He’d talk in this slow, confident way, like nothing ever rushed him.

And me?

I used to look at him when he wasn’t paying attention.

Not in some grand, love-struck way. Just small glances.

The way his fingers spun his pen absentmindedly.

The way his voice dipped when he was explaining something.

The way he laughed, like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn’t some earth-shattering moment.

One day, in the middle of class, I looked at him and thought, Oh.That was it.

No shock. No panic.

Just… understanding.

Like finally hearing the lyrics of a song I’d been humming my whole life.

Even now, years later, no one knows.

Not my family. Not my friends. Not my coworkers.

It’s not that I’m scared of telling them. I just… never have.

And after a while, it just became easier to let people assume.

To laugh along when my colleagues made jokes about marriage.

To nod when my relatives said things like, "Beta, it’s time to find a nice girl."

To never bother correcting them.

It’s not like I’m hiding. I just… keep it to myself.

Some things are easier that way.

Dating? Yeah, About That.

And before you ask—no, I’m not seeing anyone.

Not secretly. Not casually. Not at all.

"Why not?"

Good question.

Let’s break it down:

Dating apps? Deleted. Tried them for a week, got bored, uninstalled.

Blind dates? Nope. The idea of spending an entire evening making small talk with a stranger sounds exhausting.

Office romance? Absolutely not. I see these people every day—I don’t need to add romantic humiliation to the mix.

"But don’t you get lonely?"

My love life? Completely non-existent.

It’s not even about being closeted—I’ve just never been that interested.

I mean, sure, I get crushes. I get them way too easily.

But they’re always quiet, one-sided things.

I see someone, I think they’re nice, I over-analyze it for a few days… and then I move on.

That’s it.

No dating apps. No late-night texts. No first dates. Nothing.

I wouldn’t even know how to date at this point.

And honestly? I don’t really care.At least, I didn’t.

The train jolted slightly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I sighed, stretching my legs a little, feeling the familiar ache of a long journey.

It had been years since then.And now?

I was twenty-seven, working a job that paid well enough, heading back to Bangalore after visiting home. Same life. Same thoughts. Same restless feeling I never really knew what to do with.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Probably a work email. Or a useless WhatsApp forward from my uncle.

I ignored it.

For now, I just wanted to sit here, watching the world pass by.

Because if life had taught me anything, it was this—

Some things take years to make sense. And some things? They still don’t sense.

The train rumbled to a stop, a final screech of metal on metal as the brakes settled into place. The station was loud—hawkers calling out for chai, luggage wheels scraping across the platform, families shouting hurried goodbyes.

I let out a slow breath, gripping the strap of the duffel bag as I stepped onto the platform.

Back in Bangalore. Again.

The familiar scent of damp earth after rain mixed with the sharp aroma of coffee from a nearby stall. The city was alive as always, buzzing with movement, but I felt… still.

A part of me had lingered at home, back in the quiet warmth of my mom’s kitchen, where the world didn’t move so fast. Where mornings started with fresh dosas and lazy conversations, not alarms blaring before sunrise.

But here? Here, it was back to the cycle. Wake up. Commute. Work. Commute again. Sleep. Repeat.

I exhaled, shaking my head. What else was I expecting? A grand revelation? Some dramatic change?

It was the same train, the same platform, the same city.

And I was still the same person, tired of running in circles.

Dragging my bag higher onto my shoulder, I moved through the crowd, weaving past hurried commuters.My body was here, but my heart? It still felt stuck somewhere in between—between where I wanted to be and where I was supposed to be.

A deep, low rumble echoed in the sky. Rain.

Great. Just what he needed.

Picking up my pace, I stepped out of the station, just as the first drops started to fall. The Bangalore streets stretched before him—grey, familiar, unchanged.

My fingers clenched around the strap of the bag. Maybe this time, something would be different.

Maybe—

Crash.

I barely had time to register the collision before his foot slipped on a wet patch of pavement. A yelp left my throat as I fell—straight into someone.

Warmth. A sharp inhale.

And then, I was on top of them.

The rain poured harder.

For a second, all I could hear was the pattering of droplets, my own breath, and the sound of my heart pounding….Badum-badum… Badum-badum… Badum-badum…

Then—

“G-Get off!”

I blinked down at the person beneath me.

Big, wide eyes stared back at me—flustered, startled, and absolutely adorable.

Well.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be the same after all.

I quickly pushed himself up, laughing despite the awkwardness. “Wow. That was dramatic.” I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes still locked on the person beneath me. “Are you okay?”

The guy’s entire face was on fire. “G-Get off!”

“Oh, right! Sorry, sorry.” I scrambled to my feet, holding out a hand to help.

The guy, very much ignoring that hand, stood up on his own, hugging his bag to his chest like a shield.

I dusted off my jeans, still grinning. “Man, that was like a scene straight out of a Serial. If this were a movie, this is where we’d stare at each other and—”

The guy turned away immediately. “No.”

I pouted. “Aw, c’mon. At least let me have my moment.”

Before The guy could respond, a loud splash interrupted them.

A bike sped through a puddle—sending a wave of muddy water straight toward The guy.

But before disaster struck—

My body moved.

In one swift motion, I grabbed The guy’s wrist and pulled him forward. The water splashed harmlessly behind them, drenching me instead.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then I slowly looked down at his now completely soaked clothes.

“…Huh.” I ran a hand through my dripping hair. “That… did not go as planned.”

The guy blinked up at him. “You—why would you do that?”

I turned to him, grinning despite being drenched. “Duh. You already suffered once today. Couldn’t let it happen twice.”

The guy’s heart did something weird. “…That was unnecessary.”

I gasped dramatically. “Wow. Tough crowd.” Then, before The guy could react, he grabbed his wrist. “Alright, you officially owe me a chai.”

The guy’s brain malfunctioned. “What? Why?”

I tilted my head. “Uh, because I saved you?”

The guy frowned, flustered. “You… fell on me.”

I beamed. “Which means you saved me first! See? We’re even.”

The guy had no idea how to deal with this person. His usual methods of avoiding social interaction weren’t working.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But It won’t be anything fancy or expensive.”

“Deal!” I laughed, already falling into step beside him.

And somehow, despite the chaos, despite how much I hated everything about this evening—

—I didn’t completely mind the company.

Alright. Confession time.

I was supposed to be working.

Emails? Ignored. Reports? What reports? Meetings? Yeah, yeah, I nodded through them, but was I actually listening?

Absolutely not.

Because my brain? My brain was stuck on him.

Big, wide eyes. Flustered voice. The way he clutched his bag like I was some kind of street thief instead of a guy who just… fell on him.

That guy.

A guy I barely knew.

A guy who felt different from anyone I’d met before.

And that? That was a problem.

Because I didn’t get stuck on people.

Sure, I was friendly, easy-going, talkative. Flirting came naturally. But I never really… lingered on things. On people.

And yet, here I was, lingering and resisting the urge to call & text him.

How I Got His Number (AKA, My Greatest Achievement)

Right before we left that rainy day, I had one last genius move left.

I turned to The guy, hands in my pockets, casual but confident. “So, just in case I need to collect my chai debt later…”

That guy raised an eyebrow. “Chai debt?”

I grinned. “Gotta make sure you don’t conveniently disappear.”

That guy gave me a look that said I see through your nonsense.

Which, fair.

He exhaled slowly, then did something I absolutely did not expect.

He reached into his bag, pulled out a small notepad, scribbled something down, tore the paper, and held it out to me.

I stared at it.

Then at him.

Then back at the literal piece of paper in his hand.

“Are you… actually giving me your number on paper? And your name??” I asked, bewildered.

That guy shrugged. “I don’t like giving my name to random people.”

Okay, wow. Was I suddenly in the 90s?And giving number is okay???

I put a hand to my chest. “Random? I saved you from a rain disaster. We shared a life-changing moment.”

That guy just blinked. “Are you taking it or not?”

I snatched it before he could change his mind. “Oh, I’m definitely taking it.”

He nodded once, turned, and walked off like he hadn’t just completely blown my mind.

Who was this guy?

Back to Work… Or Not. (Again.)

Now, here I was, staring at his contact and trying to figure out how to text him without looking like I’d been thinking about it all day.

Vihaan: “Hey, it’s me, the guy who fell on you. Wanna relive that magical moment over chai?”

…Yeah, no.

I tapped my fingers against my desk, deep in serious life-or-death-level thought.

Then—my phone buzzed.

That guy: “Tomorrow, 7. Majestic Tea Stall. Don’t be late.”

I almost dropped my phone.

What was his deal? First, he acted like I was an annoyance, and now he was choosing the place and time like he was doing me a favor?

I smirked, leaning back. Mystery guy.

Vihaan: “Oh wow, now you’re the one making the plans? Alright then, see you tomorrow. Don’t keep me waiting. 😏”

No response.

I stared at my screen for a second longer than I should have, then locked my phone.

“Dude, are you smiling at your phone?”

I looked up. My coworker Shiv was watching me like I was a lab experiment.

“No,” I said immediately.

“You totally are.” He squinted. “Wait. Is it—”

“Nope.” I spun my chair away, opening an empty spreadsheet to look busy.

He stared for a long second. “You know, if you were dating someone, you could just say it.”

I froze.

Dating?

This wasn’t that. Obviously.

I cleared my throat, keeping my face neutral. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced. “Sure.”

I focused hard on my laptop, but…

Something about those words stuck with me.

Not because I was dating him. I wasn’t.

But because I wasn’t sure what this was at all.

The Meeting at the Tea Stall

I was already waiting when That guy arrived.

The tiny roadside tea stall near Majestic wasn’t much—just a few plastic stools, a steaming kettle, and the sharp, spiced scent of freshly brewed tea hanging in the air.

That guy hesitated at the edge of the stall, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

I waved him over with a grin. “Hey, you actually came!”

That guy blinked. “You… said I owe you chai.”

I grin widened. “So you do listen to me.”

That guy didn’t react. No embarrassment. No flustered stammering. Just a steady gaze, as if he was evaluating me.

I coughed, sliding a cup of chai toward him. “Right. Anyway. Here. Let’s call it even.”

That guy took the cup, fingers wrapping around it.

No quiet “thanks.”

No soft reactions.

Just a sip.

I studied the guy before him.

Was he just this closed-off with everyone? Or was he just not interested in talking to me? (If yes, then why?)

The silence stretched, but Mehul didn’t seem uncomfortable. He sat in it like it belonged to him.

I tapped my fingers against the cup, tilting my head. “Are you, like, a secret agent or something?”

That guy paused mid-sip. “What?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re all mysterious, broody, no small talk.” I squinted at him. “Are you about to assassinate me?”

That guy stared. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

I choked on my chai.

Did he just—was that—a joke?!

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. You do have a personality.”

That guy sipped his chai again. “I never said I didn’t.”

I grinned, pointing at him. “You’re good. You’re really good.”

That guy didn’t say anything. Just watched.

And I—for the first time in a long time—felt like he couldn’t predict what would happen next.

And actually? I liked it.

A few minutes passed, the rain outside slowing to a drizzle. The tea stall buzzed with people ordering second rounds of chai, but at their table, it was just silence—until I finally broke it.

“You know, I don’t even know your name.”

That guy didn’t react. Just took another sip.

I squinted. “Are you gonna tell me, or do I just call you ‘mystery guy’ forever?”

Another pause.

Then—a small surrender.

“…Mehul.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

Mehul glanced at him. “My name.”

Oh. Oh.

So he does talk.

I grinned. “Mehul, huh? Alright, that’s progress. I was starting to think I’d have to call you ‘chai debtor’ forever.”

Mehul didn’t respond, but something in his expression shifted—like he was trying to figure me out.

I stuck out my hand. “Vihaan. Since we’re officially exchanging secrets now.”

Mehul looked at the outstretched hand for a long second.

Then, with mild hesitation, he reached out and shook it.

His grip was light but firm, like he wasn’t used to casual touches but didn’t want to seem rude.

I held onto it just a little longer than necessary, smirking. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Mehul pulled his hand back immediately, looking away.

I chuckled. Adorable.

The tea stall around them buzzed with life—people talking, scooters zooming past, the distant honk of a bus trying to squeeze through traffic.

But here, at this tiny plastic table, it felt quieter.

I tapped my fingers against the cup. “So, why’d you actually agree to this?”

Mehul looked up.

I shrugged. “The chai. Meeting me again. You don’t seem like the type who hangs out with random strangers.”

Mehul was silent for a long moment, like he was deciding whether to answer or not.

Then, finally—

“You were persistent,” he said simply.

I blinked. “That’s it?”

Mehul nodded.

I scoffed. “Damn. I was expecting something more poetic. Like, ‘You intrigued me,I couldn’t resist your undeniable charm.’”

Mehul just stared. “No.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Alright, fine. I’ll take what I can get.”

They fell into another silence.

But this time, I didn’t mind it as much.

It was… comfortable. In a strange way.

Mehul checked his watch. “I should go.”

I immediately sat up. “Already?”

Mehul gave him a look. “We finished the chai. And the debt is paid.”

I frowned. “Wow. So transactional.”

Mehul stood up. “Isn’t that how this started?”

I hated that he had a point.

Still, he wasn’t ready to let the moment end just yet.

“You know,” I started, watching as Mehul adjusted the strap of his bag, “if you ever get the urge to drink chai again, I wouldn’t mind a repeat of this.”

Mehul looked at me, unreadable as always.

Then—the slightest tilt of his head.

“…We’ll see.”

I froze. That wasn’t a no.

Before I could say anything else, Mehul turned and walked off, disappearing into the crowd like a shadow.

I sat there, staring after him, wondering if I’d just imagined that tiny flicker of amusement in Mehul’s eyes.

And then—he smiled. Oh, I was so screwed.