While the Ice Melts

I step out of the Uber and pause before closing the door. “Kitna hua, bhaiya?”

Normally, I’d just check the app, but I’m too skiddish to bother today.

“Ninety.”

I scan the QR code, pay, and mutter a quick “done.” The car speeds off. A second later, my phone buzzes.

Your fare is ₹80.

Great. Overcharged. Perfect start.

I sigh and push open the café door.

The place is warm and earthy—soft lighting, wooden furniture, plants tucked into corners. It’s the kind of place that tries to feel like home and almost succeeds. Even the name is cute, the kind you’d probably post on Instagram with a caption you’d later regret.

I’m here to meet a guy from Hinge.

We’d been talking for a while. He seemed… different. Which is rare, considering half the boys from DIIT are on that app and most of them blur into one personality.

I scan the room.

And then I freeze.

Oh no.

Why is he here?

Subh.

For a second, I feel that old, familiar pull—the one I used to mistake for something real. I used to like him. A lot. Until I realised he was too full of himself, too careless with people. That phase taught me something important: I prefer humble over charming.

I quickly look away, hoping he hasn’t noticed me.

I pull out my phone and type: Where are you? I’ve reached the café.

Across the room, Subh’s phone lights up.

He looks down at it. Then up. He starts scanning the café.

My stomach drops.

No way.

He’s my date.