Dhruve
He didn't plan to be there.Hell, he didn't plan anything anymore.
It was one of those restless Sundays when the walls of his apartment felt too close, and the silence started talking back.So he just walked — no direction, no purpose — letting the city drag him wherever it wanted.
When he turned the corner near the old café, the one where they'd once spent hours arguing over coffee flavors and movie endings, something inside him hesitated.
He thought about walking past it.But his legs didn't listen.
Inside, the café smelled exactly the same — cinnamon, roasted beans, and rain.It almost pissed him off how little things had changed when everything else had fallen apart.
He ordered his usual — black coffee, two sugars — and sat by the window.
And that's when he saw her.
She walked in quietly, umbrella dripping, hair slightly wet, a faint tiredness around her eyes.Same grace. Same calm energy that always made him forget how to breathe for a second.
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.Then her eyes lifted — and froze on him.
The world stopped.
Riya blinked.Her lips parted slightly.Then she exhaled, like she'd been holding her breath for weeks.
"Dhruve?"
His throat felt dry."Hey," he managed, voice low, unsure.
The way she said his name — soft, cautious — it felt like a memory brushing against his chest.
She looked around, awkwardly. "Mind if I…?"He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Yeah. Sure."
She sat down.For a few seconds, neither spoke. The rain outside filled the silence.
He wanted to say you look good.He wanted to say I missed you.But all that came out was, "Still hate cold coffee?"
She smirked. "Still think yours tastes like burnt battery acid?"
That broke the ice.They laughed — a real one, short and uneven, but real.
After that, it became easier.They talked about random things — work, traffic, the new movie that everyone was overhyping.For a moment, it almost felt normal again.
But under that thin layer of small talk, there was something heavier — something both of them were pretending not to feel.
He watched her while she spoke — the way her eyes moved, the little pauses she took before saying something emotional.She still had that habit of stirring her drink even when there was nothing left to stir.Some things never changed.
And yet… something had.She looked stronger now.More grounded.Like she'd survived something.
Maybe they both had.
After a while, the conversation slowed.Riya glanced out the window."So," she said softly, "you been okay?"
He wanted to lie. Say yes.But she deserved better than that.
"I'm managing," he said finally. "Some days feel longer than others."
She nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
There was a pause — not awkward, just… full.
He leaned back, looking at her."You know," he said quietly, "I walked past this place a dozen times. Never came in."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Didn't wanna ruin the memories."
She smiled faintly. "You didn't ruin them, Dhruve. We both just… got lost for a while."
Her words hit deeper than she probably intended.Because yeah, maybe that's all it was — two people lost in their own storms, trying to find shelter in each other, and failing.
He stared into his coffee cup."You ever think about… us?"
She hesitated."Sometimes. When the city feels too loud."Then, quieter, "Do you?"
"All the damn time," he admitted.
Their eyes met — steady, unflinching.There was no blame anymore. No anger.Just two people holding the weight of what they used to be.
The rain outside started to ease.People around them moved on with their lives — laughter, orders, chatter — but they just sat there, suspended in their own bubble.
Finally, she said, "Maybe it's good we ran into each other today."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Maybe it means we're ready to stop pretending we don't exist."
He smiled softly."Guess fate's got weird timing."
She laughed — a small, genuine sound that made him feel something he hadn't felt in months.
When she stood up to leave, he did too.They walked out together, side by side.
At the door, she turned to him."Take care of yourself, okay?"
"You too."
For a second, they just stood there, rain misting between them, neither wanting to walk away first.Then she stepped closer — not enough to close the gap, but enough to make his chest ache.
"Goodbye, Dhruve."
He almost said don't go.But he didn't.
"Goodbye, Riya."
She walked away, her figure fading into the streetlight's haze.
And he just stood there, drenched, smiling faintly —because for once, the goodbye didn't feel like an ending.It felt like peace.