The next few days passed quietly. Dhruve came to the café as usual, laptop open, eyes fixed on the screen — pretending to work while his thoughts wandered where they shouldn't.
Riya noticed. Of course, she did.
He still talked to her, still smiled, but something in the way he looked at her had changed. It wasn't obvious — just softer, slower. Like he was holding back words he didn't trust himself to say.
And she wasn't sure how to feel about it.
She liked him — not in the easy, flirty way she sometimes liked people. There was something different about him. He wasn't trying to impress her, wasn't chasing anything. He just… was. And in that quiet, steady way, he'd started to take up space in her thoughts.
Sometimes she'd catch herself scanning the café for him, waiting for the bell to ring and the door to open. Sometimes, when he didn't come, her shift felt longer, emptier.
But she didn't tell him that.
That afternoon, Dhruve showed up late — shirt slightly wet from the drizzle outside, hair messy, expression tired.
"You're late," Riya teased lightly, handing him a cup before he even ordered.
"Long morning," he said, rubbing his neck. "Needed this."
"Rough day?"
"Just life being… life."
She smiled faintly. "Want to talk about it?"
He looked at her — a long, unreadable look. "If I did, would you really want to listen?"
Her voice softened. "Try me."
He didn't say anything for a moment. The rain outside filled the silence.
Then he sighed. "You ever feel like… you keep fixing things that are already broken? Like no matter how much you patch yourself up, there's still a crack somewhere?"
Riya's smile faded slightly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "All the time."
Their eyes met — not for long, but long enough.
Later, when she went to the back to clean up, she found him helping without being asked — stacking chairs, wiping tables.
"You don't have to do that," she said.
"I know," he said. "But it helps. Keeps my head quiet."
Riya watched him for a moment, then said softly, "You always carry that weight with you, don't you?"
He looked up, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "It's lighter these days."
"Because of me?" she joked, trying to break the mood.
He smirked. "Maybe."
Her laughter was soft, but there was something shy in it.
When it was time to close, Riya lingered by the door as Dhruve put on his jacket.
"You know," she said, hesitating, "you don't always have to sit alone. We could… grab a drink sometime. Outside this café, I mean."
He looked at her, surprised. "You sure?"
"Yeah," she said. "You look like you need something real once in a while."
He laughed under his breath. "Something real, huh? Sounds dangerous."
"Only if you make it," she said, eyes gleaming.
He smiled, shaking his head. "You really don't know what you're getting into, do you?"
"Maybe I do," she replied quietly.
That night, as Dhruve walked home, rain misted the streets again. He thought about her — her voice, her laughter, that sudden invitation.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like the world was pressing down on him. He felt something else. Something fragile.
Something he was terrified to name.