đˇ Friday Evening â CafĂŠ Blush, Mumbai
The place was trendy. Walls covered in abstract art, overpriced fairy lights in mason jars, waiters who dressed better than most tech bros.
Rohan stared at the menu.
"What the hell is beetroot foam?"
"Don't ask," Dev muttered, flipping the page like a math book. "Just order something with 'chicken' and pray it's edible."
Rohan was already on edge. Tonight was a group dinner Ishita insisted onâpart casual catch-up, part "Let's finally blend our friends" night.
Translation: A pressure cooker with fancy cutlery.
Their group was six again:
Rohan and Dev
Ishita and Diya
And two of Ishita's childhood friends from her elite school: Vivaan and Rhea
And the moment Rohan shook Vivaan's hand, he knew this was going to be a long night.
đ§ 7:42 PM â The Awkward Begins
Vivaan had a jawline sculpted by ego and a voice like he was always in a podcast interview.
"So, Rohan⌠you're in logistics, right?" Vivaan asked, swirling his mocktail like it contained all the secrets of the universe.
"Yeah," Rohan replied. "Supply chain and operations. Mostly planning and route optimization."
"Interesting. I could never imagine working⌠in management."
He said it like Rohan just confessed to selling vegetables in the street.
Diya kicked Ishita gently under the table.
"So, Dev," Rhea leaned in. "What do you do?"
"Data analyst," Dev said. "But mostly I eat Maggi and watch anime."
Everyone laughedâexcept Vivaan, who smiled like he wanted to uninstall Dev from existence.
đ§ The Tension Rises
As courses arrivedâtiny plates with edible flowers and names longer than resumesâthe class divide sharpened.
Rohan used the wrong fork.
Vivaan noticed.
Dev spilled water.
Rhea giggled like she'd seen poverty up close.
Ishita's smile got tighter with every passing minute.
"You okay?" Rohan whispered.
"Remind me never to mix oil and water again," she murmured.
Then came the final blow.
Vivaan, halfway through his overpriced lamb thing, casually turned to Ishita:
"You know, you've always dated guys with taste. But I guess opposites attract?"
Silence.
Dev's fork clinked.
Diya coughed.
Rohan froze.
And Ishita?
She stared at Vivaan like he'd just insulted her mother.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"I mean no offense. Just saying, Rohan's⌠real. Down to earth."
"That's code for 'not rich,' right?" Dev interjected.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," Ishita snapped.
The table went dead silent.
Rohan stood up. Calmly.
"Excuse me."
He walked out without looking back.
đŹ Outside the CafĂŠ â 9:04 PM
Rohan leaned against a lamppost, hands in pockets, heart tight in his chest.
He didn't blame her friends. Not really. They were just⌠from her world.
And maybe he wasn't.
A moment later, Ishita joined him outside.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice low.
"Don't be. He's your friend."
"Was. Not anymore."
He didn't look at her.
"You embarrassed?"
"Of you?" she scoffed. "No. I'm embarrassed that I thought they could sit at the same table as you and see what I see."
"What do you see?"
She stepped closer.
"Someone who makes me feel⌠like I don't need to prove anything."
He finally met her eyes.
"Even when I can't pronounce what's on the menu?"
"Especially then."
She took his hand.
"Let's get out of here."
"And go where?"
"Somewhere that serves butter chicken without edible flowers."
đ Later â At a Street Dhaba, Sharing a Thali
They sat side-by-side, sharing one plate, laughing over too-spicy gravy and soggy naan.
No candles.
No drama.
Just⌠them.
And in that simple space, Rohan realized something:
He didn't need to belong to her world.
Because somehow, she had chosen to belong to his.