Dhruve had always prided himself on reading people — their words, their silences, the small cracks between their smiles. It had once been his armor. Now, it was a curse. Because no matter how much he tried, he could see everything in Riya.
And today, he saw something that didn't sit right.
The café was crowded that afternoon — laughter, noise, the sharp hiss of the espresso machine. Dhruve sat at his usual corner table, pretending to type while Riya worked behind the counter.
She was smiling — too much. Laughing at something some guy said while he waited for his coffee. A tall guy in a suit, maybe a regular. Dhruve had never noticed him before.
The man leaned in slightly when he talked, and Riya didn't pull back. She was polite, friendly, maybe even flattered.
But something twisted in Dhruve's chest — small, stupid, and sudden.
What the fuck is that? he thought, his jaw tightening.
He tried to look away, but his eyes kept going back. The man said something that made her laugh again — that laugh. The one Dhruve had started to like too damn much.
He set his coffee down harder than he meant to.
A few minutes later, Riya came over. "Hey," she said, still smiling from whatever conversation she'd just had. "You okay? You look… intense."
"Just working," he said shortly.
She tilted her head. "You sure?"
He forced a small grin. "Yeah. All good."
But his voice came out tighter than he wanted, and she noticed. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're weird today."
"Always been weird," he muttered, pretending to type again.
She rolled her eyes. "True," she said, walking away.
He exhaled slowly once she left, rubbing his temples. What the hell was that, Dhruve? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Or just the ghost of a man who'd once been betrayed and couldn't stand to watch it happen again — even to someone new?
He wasn't sure. But he didn't like how it felt.
That evening, as the café closed, Riya sat beside him for a bit. The lights were dim, the noise gone.
"You were off today," she said quietly. "Did something happen?"
He hesitated. For a second, he wanted to tell her — to admit how seeing her laugh with someone else made his chest burn in ways he couldn't explain. But instead, he sighed.
"Nothing happened," he said. "Just… a long day."
She studied his face, unconvinced but gentle. "You don't have to pretend all the time, you know."
He looked at her, his voice low. "Pretending's easier than explaining."
She smiled faintly. "Yeah. I get that."
Then, without thinking, she reached out and brushed something from his cheek — a stray drop of water or maybe just an excuse to touch him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Her hand lingered longer than it should have. His breath caught, just slightly.
Then she withdrew, looking away. "See you tomorrow?"
He nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah."
That night, Dhruve lay awake, staring at his phone. The urge to text her was stupid and strong. Just a simple "Did you get home safe?" — but he didn't.
Instead, he turned the phone face down and muttered to himself, "Damn it, Dhruve… don't start this again."
But even as he said it, he knew it was already too late.
Because somewhere between her laughter and the silence that followed, he'd already crossed a line he swore he wouldn't.