Chapter 2: A Book, A Coffee, and a Quarrel

Meera wasn’t the type to let anyone hide behind her counter — especially some stranger with shady sunglasses and a talent for attracting mobs.

The moment the protestors left, she turned to Aarav with crossed arms and fire in her eyes.

“Okay, Mister Secret Agent or whoever you are, what the hell was that?”

Aarav dusted himself off, still grinning. “I told you, it’s better you don’t know.”

“You’re hiding from protestors, you carry thousand-rupee notes for a 300-rupee book, and you’ve clearly never bargained with a sabziwala in your life. Who are you?”

Aarav considered his options. He could lie. But there was something about this girl — a kind of fearless honesty that made lying feel pointless.

He took off his sunglasses.

“My name’s Aarav.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Meera narrowed her eyes. “Well, Aarav Whatever-Your-Surname-Is, you owe me an explanation. And since my pastry stock was already wiped out by that sugar-loving monster over there—” she jerked her thumb at Chintu, who was now asleep with frosting on his cheek “—you can pay with a coffee.”

Aarav raised an eyebrow. “A bribe?”

“A punishment,” she smirked.

Ten minutes later, they sat at a corner table. Meera placed two cups down with a bang.

“Here. It’s on the house. So don’t think you’re special.”

“I wouldn't dare.” Aarav chuckled, taking a sip. He winced. “God, that’s bitter.”

“Good. It suits you.”

A beat passed. Then both of them burst out laughing.

“So, what do you do, Aarav?”

“I… work in government,” he said carefully.

She snorted. “Figures. You’ve got that ‘I’ll pass your file to the higher authority’ vibe.”

“You’re not exactly easy to impress, are you?”

“I leave that to Instagram influencers.”

Aarav found himself enjoying this strange conversation more than any cabinet meeting or VIP dinner he’d ever attended.

“What about you? Bookstore owner by day, vigilante by night?”

Meera leaned back, shrugging. “I run this café-bookstore. It was my dad’s dream. He passed away last year. Everyone told me to sell it off — said it doesn’t make enough money. But I like it. It’s quiet, it’s mine, and I don’t have to wear a blazer.”

Aarav smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

Just then, an old man with a tea-stained shirt wandered in. “Meera beti! One cutting chai, fast.”

“Coming, Ramesh Chacha!

Ramesh Chacha — A wise tea stall owner and Aarav’s secret confidant

She turned back to Aarav. “Excuse me, Minister of Mystery.”

As Meera moved to the counter, Aarav’s phone buzzed relentlessly. He glanced at the screen.

•19 Missed Calls: Lakhan Singh

•4 from Dadi :-Dadi (Savitri Devi) — Aarav’s grandmother, full of wisdom, warmth, and old-school humor

•3 from Ishita :- Ishita Mehra — Aarav’s press secretary, loyal but hides feelings for him

And one text from Lakhan:

“Sir, where the hell are you? Jaipur is on fire! Protestors, media, opposition — everyone’s looking for you!”

Aarav sighed, shoving the phone aside. Just five more minutes, he thought.

When Meera returned, she noticed the phone lighting up.

“Popular, aren’t we?”

“Work never leaves me alone.”

“You should try switching it off sometimes.”

Aarav grinned. “Maybe I will.”

“So tell me,” Meera said, eyeing him playfully, “why exactly were those protestors after you? Are you a tax evader, a crooked builder, or someone’s runaway groom?”

Aarav choked on his coffee, laughing. “None of the above.”

“Well, you’ve got one week to come clean. Otherwise, I’ll start guessing out loud, and trust me, my imagination is dangerous.”

“Deal,” Aarav chuckled.

As he got up to leave, Meera called out, “And next time, carry change, you snob!”

Aarav paused at the door, turning to face her. “Noted, Jhansi ki Rani.”

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped out into the street, the evening sun painting the sky orange.

From the café window, Meera watched him go, shaking her head but unable to stop smiling.

“Bua, who was that?” a sleepy Chintu mumbled.

“No one important,” Meera lied, ruffling his hair.

But something deep down told her — this wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

Not by a long shot.

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