Ran Away

Avantika's POV

It was raining, and I was busy with work when the café’s doorbell rang. A customer walked in. He felt familiar, but I wasn’t sure.

“Nisarg?” I asked.

“Who are you?” he replied, like he had never seen me before.

Honestly, I had a crush on him back when we were in school together. I never told him, but it was special to me — he was my first ever crush.

“Oh, I was your classmate in school,” I said confidently.

“I don’t remember you though."

And just like that, my confidence went silent.

“It’s fine. Welcome to my café. What would you like to order?” I wanted to dig my own grave from the embarrassment, but instead, I chose to brush it off.

"Jumbo Chicken Cheese Burger."

It was his favorite in school; he would order it every time in the canteen. I remembered that very well.

“Coming right up!” I rushed into the kitchen, taking deep breaths like I just ran a marathon.

“Why am I so nervous after seeing him?” I asked myself. But there was no time to waste — he was my customer for now.

Exactly ten minutes later, his order was ready. I plated it like I was competing on a cooking show. I took the plate and walked out.

He was gone.

I checked the counter.

GONE.

“Why did I forget to tell him to pay first? I LITERALLY made that rule myself for this café.” I was crashing out.

The Next Day

I was opening the café when I saw him walking toward me. I wasn’t angry anymore about yesterday, but I still wanted to ask why he’d done that.

“About yester—” he began, but I stopped him mid-sentence, placing a finger on his lips. Yes, they felt soft against my finger.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. Pay the bill, and let’s move on.” I smiled after telling him, even though I promised myself I’d be rude to him. But I just couldn’t stay angry.

“All right, love. I’ll pay. Still, I’m sorry about that. Just…work calls anytime. Can’t help it.”

Love? LOVE? I wasn’t listening to anything else he said — I only remembered what he called me.

We went inside, and he asked for the bill. But I didn’t want him to pay anymore.

“No need, actually. As your old classmate, I can forgive you for that.”

“It’s fine, I can pay.”

“NO NEED,” I ordered him like I was his wife.

He didn’t pay after that, but instead, he ordered the same thing as yesterday.

“You won’t run away this time, will you?” I asked.

“I don’t plan on it.”

I went to the kitchen and made his order. (Yes, I own this café and do all the work myself. It's a little small, but it helps me pay for my university fees, so I don't mind.)

He didn’t run away this time. He took forever to eat — just like he used to in school. Everyone else would finish first, and he’d take his time, savoring every bite.

“It was delicious. I’ll come here often, so you better make it like this every time…with your gentle hands.”

Why is he talking like this? Something is definitely wrong with him.

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