Chapter 19

Chapter 19 – Coffee, Without Closure

Not every coffee date is about love.

Sometimes, it's about clarity—two people sitting across from each other, carrying invisible wounds, learning how to breathe in the same space again.

For Mehar and Aarav, this wasn't a reunion.

It was a test.

Of comfort. Of change. Of whether silence between them still hurt—or had begun to heal.

—

They chose a café tucked away from campus—the kind that played soft jazz, with mismatched chairs and coffee that tasted like warmth.

Mehar arrived first.

She chose a window seat, the kind she always preferred, where sunlight fell just enough to make her eyes shine. She didn't wear anything extra. No makeup. No effort to impress. Just her favorite oversized sweatshirt and that single silver ring she always wore on her left thumb.

Aarav arrived three minutes later.

Not early. Not late. Just… careful.

He spotted her instantly but didn't wave. Instead, he walked straight to her and offered a quiet, "Hey."

She nodded toward the chair opposite her. "Sit."

He did.

No awkwardness.

Just… a pause. Natural. Almost peaceful.

—

The waiter came. They ordered—her usual caramel cappuccino, his strong black with cinnamon.

Then the moment came—the one where people decide what to say first.

But they didn't dive into apologies. Or history. Or heartbreak.

Instead, Mehar asked, "Are you still writing?"

Aarav smiled faintly. "Yeah. I'm trying to write truthfully now. Without the urge to make it poetic."

"That's hard," she said.

He nodded. "So is drinking coffee with the girl you love while pretending you don't want to reach across the table and hold her hand."

Her eyes flicked up. A blush rose. But she didn't smile.

"I'm not ready for the we again," she said.

"I know."

"But I'm also not ignoring what's still here."

Aarav leaned back slightly, processing. "So… what are we, Mehar?"

She sipped her coffee. "Two people who aren't pretending anymore. Two people who hurt each other but still care."

"Friends?"

She thought for a moment. "Let's not label it. Let's just… be honest."

He nodded.

And in that café, they talked.

About books. About classes. About small things that didn't matter—but also did.

They didn't touch hands.

They didn't flirt.

They didn't make promises.

But when Mehar stood to leave, she paused beside his chair and said, "Next time, maybe we'll talk about the storm."

And Aarav, heart steady for the first time in weeks, replied, "Only if we talk about the sky after."

—

That day didn't fix anything.

But it planted something.

A new seed of trust.

—