PART 3: A Coffee That Changed Silence
The café was small.
Not the kind that tried too hard to impress—no loud music, no bright lights. Just soft yellow bulbs, wooden chairs, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee hanging gently in the air.
Aarushi noticed everything.
Maybe because her senses felt sharper than usual.
Or maybe because she was sitting across from someone who made ordinary moments feel important.
Mira slid into the chair opposite her, placing her sketchbook carefully on the table, as if it were something fragile.
“So,” Mira said softly, wrapping her fingers around her coffee cup, “what made you say yes?”
Aarushi blinked.
“To coffee?”
Mira nodded. “To this.”
Aarushi looked down at her own cup. Steam rose slowly, curling like an unanswered thought.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I usually don’t.”
Mira smiled—not surprised.
“I figured.”
That made Aarushi look up. “How?”
“You have that look,” Mira said gently. “The kind that plans everything… so nothing hurts too much.”
Aarushi’s chest tightened.
She took a sip of coffee to hide it.
It tasted warm. Comforting.
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “Or maybe I’m just tired of planning.”
Mira didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she opened her sketchbook and flipped to a blank page.
“I draw when silence feels heavy,” she said. “It helps me breathe.”
Aarushi watched as Mira’s pencil moved—slow, thoughtful strokes. Not rushed. Not careful either. Just honest.
“What are you drawing now?” Aarushi asked.
Mira glanced up, her eyes holding something unreadable.
“A moment.”
Aarushi felt a strange flutter in her chest.
---
They talked about small things.
Work.
Favorite weather.
Music that felt like home.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing intense.
And yet—everything felt intimate.
Aarushi laughed more than she had in weeks. Mira listened—not just with her ears, but with her whole presence.
At one point, their hands rested close on the table. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the warmth.
Aarushi noticed.
She wondered if Mira did too.
---
“Can I ask you something?” Mira said suddenly.
Aarushi nodded. “Of course.”
“Why do you look like you’re always holding something back?”
The question wasn’t sharp.
It was gentle. Curious.
Aarushi swallowed.
“I guess…” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “I learned early that expecting too much leads to disappointment.”
Mira’s pencil stopped moving.
She looked at Aarushi then—not like an artist studying a subject, but like someone recognizing a familiar wound.
“I know that feeling,” Mira said softly.
Silence settled between them again—but this time, it wasn’t heavy.
It was shared.
---
When they finally stood up to leave, the rain had stopped completely.
The streets outside looked freshly washed, glowing under the streetlights.
Mira closed her sketchbook and held it out.
“This one’s for you.”
Aarushi hesitated. “You already gave me one.”
“I know,” Mira smiled. “But this one’s different.”
Aarushi opened it.
A sketch of two coffee cups on a table.
Steam rising.
Two shadows leaning toward each other—almost touching.
Her throat tightened.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Mira shrugged lightly. “It’s just a moment.”
“No,” Aarushi said, meeting her eyes.
“It’s more than that.”
Something passed between them then—quiet, unspoken, but real.
---
They stepped outside together.
“I’ll walk you to your bus stop,” Mira said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
The words stayed with Aarushi the entire walk.
When they reached the stop, the road was almost empty. No buses yet.
Mira shifted slightly, hands tucked into her jacket pockets.
“I’m glad you came today,” she said.
“So am I,” Aarushi replied.
She surprised herself by saying it so easily.
The bus arrived sooner than expected.
Too soon.
Aarushi stepped forward, then stopped.
“Will I see you again?”
Mira didn’t hesitate this time.
“Yes.”
No conditions.
No uncertainty.
Just yes.
As the bus pulled away, Aarushi looked back.
Mira was still standing there.
Watching.
And for the first time in a long while, Aarushi didn’t feel afraid of what was coming next.
She felt… curious.
---
