Chapter: Chai, Cafés & Almost Conversations
(Iman's POV)
His white kameez shalwar wasn't helping. It looked unfairly good on him. Neatly ironed, the collar just barely open, sleeves folded like he had a personal vendetta against buttons — and that jawline? Honestly, why did genetics play favourites?
His expression unreadable, but his foot tapped once — his tells were easy now.
"Ready?" he asked, hands still in pockets.
"Wasn't I always?" I replied, tilting my head.
He gave a brief chuckle, the kind that felt like a secret shared, and we began walking.
The roads were quieter in the evening, a few kids yelling in the distance, some aunty loudly bargaining with the sabziwala, and the hum of motorbikes passing occasionally. But between us, it was the steady sound of footsteps — and unspoken things.
"So," I broke the silence, "you wore white for the occasion?"
Ahad looked down at his kurta with a smirk. "Mom says white clears the mind."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you trying to clear?"
He didn't answer immediately. "Depends. What's clouding it?"
I almost smiled — almost. But tonight, I was in control.
The café came into view. It wasn't fancy, but it had charm. A couple of string lights, mismatched chairs, and a shelf of books no one ever read but everyone admired.
As we walked in, I noticed a table already reserved — three cups already on the tray. Sara was waving animatedly from it, with Shanzay beside her, halfway through complaining about the number of assignments.
"You both are late," Sara announced, folding her arms like the queen of punctuality herself.
"You both started without us," I replied, sliding into the seat next to her.
Ahad took the chair opposite mine next to shanzay, which was... strategically annoying.
"Oh no, this is war zone," Shanzay whispered with a grin, nudging Sara.
We all laughed — the four of us. But even as the tea arrived, as biscuits crumbled into paper napkins, and as Sara began detailing her dramatic return from her cousin's wedding — I could feel his gaze. Not heavy. Just... steady.
And I knew.
He hadn't changed back to the old Ahad.
He had simply become better at pretending.
And if I wasn't careful, I would fall for the boy who kept holding back everything except his eyes.
Absolutely — I do know what you mean, Qalb. Let's take the cozy, heartwarming warmth of that café glow and layer it with banter, teenage chaos, and that sudden twist of tension when the atmosphere shifts — just the way you love it.
The tea was just starting to cool, the biscuits were now more crumbs than anything else, and Sara had already managed to spill hers on Ahad's notebook — which, by the way, he had absolutely no reason to carry to a café meet-up.
Shanzay smirked. "Let's play Truth or Dare."
Ahad raised a brow. "You're not serious."
Sara clapped her hands. "Oh, she's always serious about stupid things."
"Thanks," Shanzay beamed.
I sighed. "Fine. But no dares that involve dancing on tables."
"No promises," Sara whispered.
Just as the circle formed more properly — cushions pulled close, elbows nudging, eyes twinkling with mischief — Zaffar walked in. With his black hoodie half-zipped and hair spiked up like he just walked out of an anime scene, he strolled over like he owned the joint.
"Missed me?" he grinned.
"No," I said.
"Yes," Shanzay said at the same time.
Zaffar dropped next to Ahad, who gave him a look. "You're late."
"I bring the chaos," he said, already stretching his arms. "Let's start."
The game began.
Sara: "Truth, Ahad. What's something you haven't told your best friend?"
Ahad paused. His eyes flicked to me for a fraction of a second. "That I sometimes think too much. Especially when I shouldn't."
Zaffar: "Bro just said he has anxiety in poetic form."
Shanzay: "Zaffar. Truth or dare."
"Dare."
"I dare you to compliment everyone here genuinely."
Zaffar groaned. "You guys are lucky I'm in a good mood."
"To Sara, for not letting anyone breathe."
"To Shanzay, for being the tiny packet of explosives she is."
"To Iman, for pretending she isn't the smartest in the room."
"To Ahad… you try too hard to act unaffected. You suck at it."
I looked away quickly.
A few rounds in, the laughter was growing. I'd loosened up more than I expected. But then…
It was my turn.And I obviously, choose truth
Sara narrowed her eyes. "Truth. Do you like someone?"
The table fell quiet. Even the buzz of the café seemed to mute for a second.
I opened my mouth. I really did. But the words didn't come. There was something stuck in my chest — not hesitation. Not denial. Just confusion.
Before I could say anything, the door clanged open.
And there he was.
Hashim Aijaz.
Tall, swaggering, and dressed like he was headed to a nightclub at 7 p.m., the rowdy biker, the same boy who had interfered during Ahad and Hafiz's fight, walked in like thunder on polished tiles.
Ahad straightened instinctively. His face shifted — not in fear. Not even in surprise. Just caution.
Hashim's eyes scanned the café. And then they landed — squarely on me.
He smirked.
"You guys still play kiddie games?" he called, loud enough for half the tables to turn.
Zaffar was already sitting up straighter. Shanzay looked between me and Ahad. Sara bit her lip.
Hashim stepped forward, dragging a chair back,besides me. "Truth or dare, huh?" His voice oozed challenge. "I'll play."
Ahad stood. Calmly. His eyes unreadable.
"You're not invited," he said, voice low.
Hashim chuckled. "Didn't know I needed an invite to speak to an old friend's old… companion."
The words stung like acid.
" She is still my bestfriend " Ahad roared,yet his face calm to the person who was not only uninvited but also just friends with Ahad.Just Ahad
Sara whispered, "Should we—"
"No," I said.
Hashim leaned forward, eyes never leaving mine.
Ahad's jaw flexed. Zaffar had already half-risen from his seat.
And that was it.
The storm that had been pacing at the door just stepped into our tea-stained circle.
Hashim leaned forward, eyes flicking between all of us, then finally settling on me — with a mischievous smirk, not menace.
"Truth, Iman," he grinned. "One question. Don't stress — I promise it's PG-13."
Ahad didn't flinch, but something behind his eyes shifted — caution, not alarm. The kind you reserve for friends who don't know their own intensity.
Zaffar muttered, "And here comes the earthquake in human form…"
Shanzay pulled her legs up, already shrinking into the cushion beside her. Sara just blinked rapidly.
But me? I held my breath.
Hashim was only friends with Ahad,rest of us never changed a few words even with him,not even zaffar,who was little friendly with Hashim yet knew the guy was too dangerous to be freinds with.Hence,they would have a meetup in fights only.Neither had Hashim and I ,ever talked.Just exchanged few words back then,when he would appear at break times infront of me and Ahad,and because Ahad and his friendship seemed quit deep i also exchanged few words with him.Sometimes.
What's was wrong with him today I couldn't tell.
Hashim tilted his head and asked with the most casual smile,
"You still chill with overthinkers?"
And then he laughed, bumping his fist lightly against Ahad's shoulder — a playful stunt, not a threat.
Still, the air in our little circle had changed.
Not because Hashim was dangerous,
but because everyone else knew exactly how far Ahad would go… if anything ever stopped being friendly.
.