Aarav never believed in love at first sight.
At least, that's what he told himself every time his friends teased him about being too serious, too focused on work, too detached from emotions that felt unnecessary. Love, in his opinion, was something that grew over time—through shared conversations, mutual understanding, and quiet effort. It was not something that struck you like lightning.
That belief stayed intact until one ordinary Tuesday morning.
The café near his office was crowded, as usual. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cups. Aarav stood in line, checking emails on his phone, already thinking about the meeting waiting for him upstairs. His life ran on schedules and deadlines, and he liked it that way.
"Next, please."
He stepped forward, ordered his usual black coffee, and waited near the counter. That was when he noticed her.
She was sitting alone at a corner table, near the window. Sunlight filtered through the glass, falling softly across her face. A book rested in her hands, and she seemed completely unaware of the world around her. People walked past, chairs scraped against the floor, yet she remained still—absorbed in her own quiet universe.
Aarav didn't know what made him look twice.
Maybe it was the calmness she carried, or the way her fingers gently turned each page, as if she respected the words she was reading. Or maybe it was simply the fact that she looked peaceful in a world that rarely slowed down.
For a moment, time felt suspended.
"Your coffee, sir."
The barista's voice pulled him back. Aarav took the cup, murmured a thanks, and turned to leave. But as he walked past her table, his eyes betrayed him. He glanced again.
She looked up.
Their eyes met for barely a second.
She offered a polite, almost shy smile—nothing dramatic, nothing intentional. Yet something in Aarav's chest shifted, like a quiet door opening somewhere deep inside him. He looked away quickly, surprised by his own reaction, and continued walking.
By the time he reached his office, he told himself it was nothing.
Yet, throughout the day, her image returned uninvited.
During meetings, he caught himself staring at the glass walls, thinking about the way sunlight touched her hair. While typing reports, he wondered what book she had been reading. Fiction? Romance? Something serious? He shook his head more than once, annoyed at himself.
This is ridiculous, he thought.
He had seen hundreds of people in cafés before. Why should one stranger matter?
That evening, as Aarav packed his bag to leave, he found himself hoping—quietly, foolishly—that she might still be there.
The café lights were warmer at night. Fewer people sat inside now, the rush replaced by soft background music. Aarav ordered another coffee, slower this time, allowing himself to look around.
She wasn't there.
Disappointment settled in his chest before he could stop it.
So this is what it feels like, he realized. Not love. Not yet. But curiosity mixed with regret.
Days passed.
He returned to the café every morning, telling himself it was convenient, that the coffee was good. Yet each time, his eyes searched the corner table by the window.
Empty.
Until Friday.
She was there again.
This time, she wasn't reading. She was staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face, as if she were waiting for something—or someone. Aarav's heartbeat quickened, surprising him. He ordered his coffee and stood near the counter, unsure of what to do next.
Should he talk to her?
The idea felt terrifying. Aarav was confident in boardrooms and presentations, but approaching a stranger felt strangely harder. What would he say? Sorry, I keep noticing you? That sounded awkward even in his head.
As he hesitated, she stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Now or never.
"Excuse me," he said, before his courage could disappear.
She turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Up close, she looked even more real—no dramatic beauty, just something honest and warm.
"Yes?" she replied.
"I—I see you here often," he began, mentally cursing himself. "I mean, not in a creepy way. I just wanted to say… hi."
For a second, silence stretched between them.
Then she laughed—softly, kindly.
"I was hoping you'd talk to me," she said.
Aarav blinked. "You were?"
She nodded. "You always look like you want to say something, but don't."
He smiled, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. "I'm Aarav."
"Maya," she replied.
They stood there, coffee growing cold, exchanging small stories—about work, books, the strange comfort of familiar places. Nothing extraordinary was said, yet everything felt important.
As they parted ways, Maya smiled again. "See you tomorrow?"
Aarav didn't hesitate this time. "Definitely."
As he walked away, he realized something had changed.
He still didn't believe in love at first sight.
But he believed in beginnings.
And this—this felt like one.