Anaya Sharma did not like waiting.
Especially not when she didn't even want to be there in the first place.
She checked her phone for the fourth time in the last two minutes.
4:12 PM.
"He's late," she muttered under her breath, stirring the iced coffee in front of her even though it didn't need stirring.
"You're early," came her mother's voice from across the table.
Anaya looked up, unimpressed.
"Mumma, I came on time."
"You came fifteen minutes early."
"That is on time."
The café was exactly the kind of place she preferred—minimal, warm lighting, soft music playing in the background, people minding their own business.
Neutral ground.
Not too formal. Not too personal.
Perfect for something like this.
She adjusted the sleeve of her soft beige shirt, the fabric slightly creased from how many times she had tugged at it already. Paired with high-waisted dark blue jeans and simple white sneakers, her outfit was effortless—something she would wear on any normal day.
Except today didn't feel normal.
Her hair fell naturally over her shoulders, slightly messy despite her attempt to keep it in place. She tucked a strand behind her ear, only for it to slip back again.
Annoying.
Her mother, on the other hand, looked far too comfortable.
Which was suspicious.
"Relax," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "It's just a meeting."
"You've said that three times," Anaya replied. "It's not becoming less of a big deal."
Her phone buzzed.
Automatically, she looked down.
Noir.R — New update posted
Her eyes lit up for a fraction of a second.
Then she caught herself.
"No," she whispered under her breath, locking her phone instantly. "Not now. Focus."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
"That didn't look like nothing."
"It was nothing."
Across the city—
Reyansh Malhotra stepped out of his car, adjusting the cuff of his charcoal-grey shirt as he glanced briefly at the café sign.
The sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, the top button undone—formal enough to be appropriate, casual enough to not feel stiff. Paired with black trousers and a watch that caught the light just slightly, his look was simple, clean, and controlled.
Effortless.
Just like everything else about him.
He walked in.
Inside, the soft hum of conversation blended with the faint clinking of cups.
He scanned the room once.
Calm. Observant. Efficient.
And then his gaze stopped.
A girl sitting at a corner table, leaning slightly forward, arguing—very quietly but very seriously—with the woman across from her.
The way she moved—
The way she frowned—
The way she absentmindedly played with her sleeve—
His steps slowed.
Just a little.
That feels…
No.
He exhaled lightly and continued walking.
Back at the table—
"Mumma, I'm just saying," Anaya continued, lowering her voice slightly, "if this gets awkward, I'm blaming you."
Her mother smiled. "You'll be fine."
"That's what people say right before things go wrong."
"Excuse me?"
The voice came from beside them.
Calm. Even. Polite.
Anaya looked up.
And for a second—
Everything paused.
Not dramatically.
Not in a cinematic, slow-motion way.
Just—
A small, quiet shift.
Reyansh stood there, one hand in his pocket, posture relaxed but composed.
Exactly like the picture.
Only more real.
More present.
Anaya blinked once.
Then straightened slightly, subconsciously sitting up a little straighter.
"Oh. Hi."
Her mother stood up immediately. "Reyansh?"
"Yes," he nodded politely. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."
"No, no, not at all," she replied warmly. "We just got here."
Anaya gave her a look.
Reyansh's gaze shifted to her.
And stayed there.
For a moment longer than necessary.
Something—
Something wasn't aligning.
Not recognition.
Not exactly.
But not unfamiliar either.
Anaya felt it instantly.
That look.
Why is he staring?
She frowned slightly, tilting her head.
"Hi," she repeated, a little more aware this time.
Reyansh blinked once, as if snapping out of a thought.
"Hi."
They sat.
Conversations started.
Basic introductions.
Families. Work. Backgrounds.
Everything normal.
Everything expected.
And yet—
Reyansh found his attention drifting.
Not to the conversation.
But to her.
The way she tapped her fingers lightly against the table when she was thinking.
The way she paused before answering, like she filtered her words carefully.
Why does that feel familiar?
Across from him, Anaya picked up her glass, taking a small sip to avoid speaking for a second.
Because for some reason—
She felt… observed.
Not in a bad way.
Just—
Noticeable.
She glanced at him again.
This time properly.
Up close, he looked calmer than she expected.
But there was something else too.
Something she couldn't quite place.
"You're very quiet," she said suddenly.
Her mother gave her a look.
Reyansh didn't seem offended.
"If necessary, I talk," he replied.
Anaya blinked.
"…that sounds like something a quiet person would say."
A faint hint of amusement crossed his face.
Barely there.
But real.
For a moment—
The tension shifted.
And then—
Without warning—
A flicker.
Anaya's expression changed.
Just slightly.
Her brows pulled together.
A thought—
Or something like it—
slipped through her mind.
Unclear.
Incomplete.
Gone before it could form.
She frowned.
"…weird."
Reyansh noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
She shook her head lightly. "Nothing. Just felt like I forgot something."
His gaze sharpened.
Just a fraction.
"Does that happen often?" he asked.
"Not really," she replied casually. "Just random."
She moved on.
Easily.
But he didn't.
That feeling again.
Stronger this time.
Forgot something…
His fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
No.
That didn't mean anything.
It couldn't.
"Maybe you two should talk alone," her mother suggested suddenly, standing up.
Of course.
Anaya sighed internally but stood up anyway.
"Yeah. Sure."
They moved to a quieter corner of the café.
Not too far.
Just enough.
Silence followed.
Short.
Manageable.
Anaya crossed her arms lightly. "Okay, this is slightly less awkward than I expected."
"Good," Reyansh replied.
She glanced at him again.
Still that same composed expression.
Still that same—
Something.
"I'll be honest," she said, "this is not how I imagined this going."
"How did you imagine it?"
"Worse."
That earned a small, actual smile.
And just like that—
Something eased.
Not fully.
Not completely.
But enough.
Behind that ease, though—
Something else remained.
Unfinished.
Unclear.
Like a memory standing just out of reach.
For both of them.