Chapter 1
Snowflakes fell softly outside the glass windows, blanketing the sleepy town in quiet white. Inside, the cafe was a haven — wood-paneled walls, hanging lanterns glowing like little suns, and the gentle hum of indie music floating in the air.
Noor and Prachi sat by the window, their cheeks pink from the cold, palms wrapped around steaming cups of nothing — their coffee was still being prepared.
Prachi (rolling her eyes): “Three days in Himachal and Sameer still hasn’t replied to my story? Even the snow melted faster.”
Noor (smirking): “Maybe he’s frozen in guilt. Or maybe your story with that puppy wasn’t enough.”
Prachi (tone offended): “Excuse me?! I was adorable in that one.”
Noor chuckled, sipping warm water that the waiter had brought until their coffee was ready.
Prachi: “Okay, Plan B. I need a pretend boyfriend. Someone hot, someone mysterious… someone who’ll make Sameer’s soul itch.”
Noor: “You don’t want love, you want a human boomerang.”
Prachi: “I want justice. And maybe a little drama.”
She leaned back dramatically, eyes scanning the cafe like a casting director in a Netflix audition.
Prachi (gasps): “Noor. Look behind you. Table by the bookshelf. Don’t be obvious.”
Noor turned — obviously.
And that’s when the story was about to begin.
Prachi was fired up.
Noor? She was right there beside her — a little more composed, a little more cautious — but definitely not stopping her.
“Okay,” Prachi said, eyes scanning the room like a hawk. “We need someone tall, mildly attractive, and non-creepy. Bonus points if he can fake smile and smolder on cue.”
Noor sipped her water, nodding thoughtfully. “And someone who doesn’t run the moment you say the word ‘revenge’.”
Prachi chuckled. “God, I love you. You’re the only one who supports my madness.”
“I call it strategic chaos,” Noor said with a smirk. “And I’m in — full support. Let’s find your fake prince charming.”
And so, the auditions began.
Boy after boy was waved over from various tables — each more confused than the last. Noor would open with a friendly line, break the ice, while Prachi dove straight into questions like a casting agent with a grudge.
“If I post a story holding your hand, and my ex watches it… what are you doing next?”
“If my ex messages me, do you block him or flirt harder?”
“Are you okay being in two stories a day minimum?”
Most couldn’t handle the pressure. Some were flattered. Others got up midway through the “interview,” shaking their heads.
Prachi rejected them all with flair. Noor stood guard, offering a polite smile, an apology here and there, and once even a refund for a guy’s cold coffee.
Eventually, the final guy walked out, muttering something about “therapy and snow not mixing.”
The cafe’s energy shifted. A few guests looked annoyed. A couple chuckled.
And then came a new voice. Calm. Commanding. Not angry — just… done.
“Is this a prank, or are you two seriously running boyfriend auditions in my cafe?”
Noor and Prachi looked up together.
Standing a few steps away was a man in a charcoal overcoat, sleeves rolled up slightly, a closed notebook in one hand and a frown that somehow made him more handsome.
This was Vihaan Malhotra — 25, the owner of the cafe. Sharp features, dark hair slightly tousled, eyes that observed before they judged. He wasn’t just the face of the cafe — he was the cafe. From the handpicked playlist to the carved furniture, everything had his touch.
Right now, that cafe was being used as a breakup recovery set.
“They volunteered!” Prachi defended.
“They fled,” Vihaan replied. “One of them said he’s deleting Instagram after this.”
Noor stood up, offering a hand. “Okay. You’re right. We overdid it. But it was all in the spirit of… heartbreak and friendship.”
Vihaan didn’t take the hand. He just raised a brow. “You made my customers feel like unpaid actors.”
“We were desperate,” Noor admitted, “not cruel.”
“There’s a fine line,” he replied, already turning to walk away.
But Noor wasn’t done.
“Vihaan, wait.”
He turned halfway.
“You didn’t say no,” she said, a glimmer of mischief in her voice.
“No to what?” he asked, though he already knew.
“To being the pretend boyfriend.”
Prachi grinned behind Noor. “You’ve got the looks, the voice, and the café. All that’s missing is you dramatically holding my hand outside in the snow.”
Vihaan stared at the two of them for a long moment. One fire, one flame. Clearly different, dangerously in sync.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“We prefer the word unforgettable,” Noor shot back.
Vihaan glanced around his own café — half full, snow tapping on the windows, his playlist softly switching to an old John Mayer song.
Then he pulled out the chair across from them and sat down.
“Okay,” he said. “Tell me what I just signed up for.”
And just like that, the game had a new player.
Vihaan sat down slowly, fingers drumming against the wooden tabletop, eyes darting between Noor and Prachi like he wasn’t sure whether he had just joined a con or a comedy.
“Before I even think about this,” he said, tilting his head, “why me?”
Noor smiled, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and held up one finger.
“Reason one,” she said. “You’re genuinely good-looking. That helps with the whole ‘let’s make the ex jealous’ vibe.”
“Reason two,” she continued, holding up another finger, “You’re not just a random stranger. You own this café. Stability. Authority. That screams ‘upgrade.’”
Prachi nodded approvingly. “Exes hate upgrades.”
“Reason three,” Noor went on, “You’ve got that aloof, mysterious energy. You don’t try too hard — which makes you impossible to ignore.”
“And reason four…” She paused, giving a playful shrug. “We’ve already embarrassed ourselves in front of you. Might as well turn it into a collaboration.”
Vihaan let out a short laugh, resting his chin on his hand.
“Solid pitch,” he said. “But what’s in it for me?”
Noor leaned back, crossing her arms, eyes narrowing like she’d been waiting for that question.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked casually.
Vihaan looked slightly caught off guard but answered, “No.”
“Perfect,” Noor said, “Then I’ll find you one.”
Prachi’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?!”
Noor didn’t flinch.
“He helps you get fake love. I help him get real love. Balance.”
Vihaan’s eyebrows lifted, amused. “You’re going to play matchmaker now?”
“I’m great at reading people,” Noor replied smoothly. “Besides, I have a friend named Sana. Single. Kind. Hilarious. She has a thing for emotionally unavailable men with great hair and bad texting habits.”
Vihaan grinned. “Are you calling me emotionally unavailable?”
“Not yet,” Noor said. “But give it time.”
He chuckled, leaning back in the chair as if weighing his options.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “I fake-date your friend to make her ex jealous. In return, you find me an actual girlfriend.”
“Exactly,” Noor said. “Everyone wins. Except Sameer.”
Prachi raised her coffee cup like a toast. “To his slow, painful jealousy.”
Vihaan looked between the two of them again — one with fire in her eyes, the other with calm confidence and just enough mischief to keep him guessing.
“Alright,” he said finally, “I’m in.”
The girls cheered quietly, exchanging a dramatic high-five.
“But,” Vihaan added, holding up a finger, “if this turns into some Instagram reel drama with sad music and teary captions, I walk.”
“Deal,” Noor said. “No tears. Just tactics.”
“And coffee,” Prachi added. “Lots of coffee.”
Vihaan smiled. “You’re in the right place.”
Outside, snow kept falling — slow, steady, and silent. But inside Paper & Pine, something had just begun.
A plan. A partnership. And maybe, just maybe… something more.
