The café was quieter than usual, tucked into the corner of a bookstore that smelled like old pages and cinnamon. Malik had chosen it deliberately—neutral ground, no memories attached.
Zara arrived five minutes late, her hair pulled into a bun, her eyes guarded. Malik stood when he saw her, but she waved him down.
"No need for ceremony," she said, sliding into the seat across from him.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
They ordered coffee. Sat in silence. The air between them felt like glass—clear, fragile, and full of reflections.
"I've been thinking," Malik said finally, stirring his drink even though he hadn't added sugar.
"Me too," Zara replied.
He looked up. "About the kiss."
Zara nodded. "Same."
Another pause.
"I didn't plan it," he said