Brishti decided it was time to meet. She left a note on Friday: "Meet me at the park bench near the lake tomorrow at 5 PM. Bring a yellow flower so I know it's you."
Saturday came. Brishti waited, her heart racing. At exactly 5 PM, someone approached her. It was Aryan, a regular customer at the cafe whom she always thought was too arrogant to talk to anyone.
In his hand was a single yellow rose.
"Aryan? It was you all this time?" Brishti asked, breathless.
Aryan rubbed the back of his neck, looking shy for the first time. "I didn't know how to talk to you, Brishti. You always looked so busy and... perfect. The notes were the only way I could be myself."