The Worst Date Ever

🎭 Character Designs

Protagonist A – Naina Kapoor

Age: 22

Job: Lifestyle content creator (Instagram & YouTube)

Traits: witty, ambitious, a little clumsy under pressure

Flaw: Obsessed with curating a “perfect” online image, struggles to relax & just live

Comedy role: often gets into embarrassing viral situations (mic accidentally left on during a livestream, tripping onstage, etc.)

Protagonist B – Aarav Mehta

Age: 28

Job: Software developer, co-founder of a new dating app

Traits: sarcastic humor, intelligent, grounded

Flaw: Avoids serious commitment, too logical at times

Comedy role: dry one-liners during chaotic situations, contrast to her bubbly energy

Supporting Characters

Riya (Naina’s bestie): overly dramatic, always giving bad but funny dating advice.

Kabir (Aarav’s cousin): wannabe playboy, constantly interfering, comic relief.

Naina’s Mom: sends her daily marriage proposals via WhatsApp, making her life chaotic.

...📖 Chapter 1 – The Worst Date Ever...

Naina Kapoor hated waiting.

Waiting for Uber drivers who claimed they were “two minutes away” but hadn’t even started moving. Waiting for YouTube videos to upload on her glacial Wi-Fi. And especially waiting for first dates from apps where the guy’s profile picture looked suspiciously like it had been taken in 2017.

She tapped her phone screen again, pretending to check the time though she already knew: seven minutes late. In dating-app time, that wasn’t “running behind.” That was “he saw my Instagram without filters and bolted.”

“Relax,” she whispered to herself, adjusting the strap of her pastel blazer. “He’ll be here. Maybe he’s just… parking. Or lost. Or abducted by aliens. Honestly, aliens would be better than being stood up.”

Just as she typed out a furious ‘forget it’ text to her best friend Riya, someone bumped into her chair hard enough to make her water glass wobble.

“Sorry—sorry,” a voice said.

She turned. Tall. Messy black hair. A black T-shirt that looked like it had been chosen for its zero effort. He was holding not one but two takeaway coffees like a man failing at a circus act.

“You’re… Naina?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re Aarav? Wow.” She couldn’t stop herself. “You look… different.”

He set the cups down with a smirk that was just this side of arrogant. “Different from my profile?”

“Different from the guy I imagined would actually show up on time.”

“Ouch.” He slid into the chair across from her, entirely too calm for someone with a coffee stain on his sleeve. “In my defense, the barista was moving slower than dial-up internet.”

Naina blinked. “Dial-up? You mean like the sound my mom’s landline used to make?”

He grinned. “Exactly. The screech of a dying robot. Glad you get it.”

Naina Kapoor had been on enough first dates to know the signs of a bad one:

The guy showed up late.

He wore sunglasses indoors.

He said “I don’t believe in labels” within the first five minutes.

By those standards, Aarav Mehta wasn’t the worst she’d met. He was punctual. Dressed decently. Didn’t talk about “manifesting crypto wealth.”

But as she sat across from him in the crowded café, sipping an iced latte, she knew this wasn’t going well.

“So,” she began, flashing her practiced influencer smile, “what do you do for fun?”

Aarav looked at her like she’d asked him to define string theory. “Fun?”

“Yes, you know. Movies, books, travel, hobbies…” She twirled her straw. “Anything that makes life interesting.”

He sipped his black coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream. “I… work.”

Naina blinked. “That’s… it?”

“I’m building something,” he said simply, shrugging. “A startup. It takes all my time.”

“Wow.” She forced enthusiasm. “That’s… ambitious.”

“It’s necessary,” he corrected. “If you want to make it in tech, you can’t waste hours on things that don’t matter.”

She stared at him, offended on behalf of her nail polish collection, her skincare shelf, and her YouTube “What’s in My Bag?” videos. “Excuse me, but fun does matter.”

“Not really.” He looked completely serious. “Discipline matters. Metrics matter. Fun… distracts you.”

Naina put her latte down. “Well, thank you for explaining life to me, Spreadsheet Boy.”

“Spreadsheet Boy?” His brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head. “You look like the type who flirts by sharing Excel formulas.”

Aarav’s lips twitched—almost a smile. But instead of laughing, he said, “At least formulas make sense. Unlike pretending iced coffee is a personality trait.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse you?”

And that’s when it happened. She gestured so sharply that her straw flicked out of the cup, sending a splash of cold latte straight across the table—right onto Aarav’s pristine white shirt.

Time froze.

“Oh. My. God.” Naina grabbed napkins, reaching across the table. “I’m so sorry!”

He sat back, staring at the spreading stain. “…This is exactly why I avoid fun.”

She froze, napkin in hand. Then, something in her snapped. Instead of apologizing again, she dropped the napkin and said, “You know what? Maybe fun avoids you too.”

The couple at the next table snorted into their cappuccinos. The barista whispered, “Yikes.”

Aarav stood, pulling his blazer tight over the coffee mark. “This was a mistake.”

“Finally, something we agree on,” Naina shot back.

They marched out of the café in opposite directions, both muttering about the universe’s terrible sense of humor.

A single thought echoing in their mind:

"Worst date ever"

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