It was the 8th of June, the date circled faintly on our wall calendar, the day Dad said he'd meet his old friend. I didn't know why that date suddenly felt important, but something about it made my heart restless.
The past few days had been hectic. Between shifts at the café and the restaurant, I hadn't found the time to ask my co-workers about the man I served that evening, the one who couldn't seem to leave my thoughts. No matter how much I tried, his face kept appearing in my mind. That soft smile. The warmth in his eyes. The calm confidence in his voice.
Even as I sat at the dining table that morning, Mom's voice pulled me back to reality.
"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, Tanvi."
I nodded and quickly began eating. But every sip of tea, every bite of toast, carried the image of that stranger in blue.
After breakfast, I got ready for my morning shift at the café. The place smelled of roasted coffee and cinnamon as usual, yet everything felt different today. I was distracted , too distracted.
While I poured a latte, one of my friends grinned and nudged me.
"Someone's smiling a lot today," she teased. "Are you seeing someone?"
I blinked, flustered. "What? No, it's nothing like that."
Another friend joined in, laughing. "She totally is! Look at her face!"
I groaned. "Stop it, guys. I'm not seeing anyone. Now get back to work!"
They laughed and walked away, still giggling. But as soon as they turned, I caught myself smiling again.
Why am I crushing over a stranger? I thought. This is ridiculous.
I shook my head and forced myself to focus. The clinking of cups, the sound of coffee brewing, everything tried to pull me back to routine. But my mind refused to let go of him.
After my shift ended, I changed into my informals and decided to walk to the restaurant to save some money. The warm wind brushed against my face as I walked. By the time I reached, the sun was slowly dipping behind the tall buildings.
Inside, the restaurant buzzed with quiet conversations and soft instrumental music. During my break, I finally gathered the courage to ask my co-workers about him.
"Hey," I began hesitantly, "do you remember that special guest who came a few days ago? The one who ordered the South Indian meal?"
One of them looked up. "Oh yeah, that must've been Ansh Malhotra."
I froze. "Ansh… Malhotra? Who's he?"
She looked at me, surprised. "You don't know him?"
I frowned. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking, would I?"
Another co-worker chuckled. "You know the Malhotras — the billionaires who own half the city? He's related to them. Ansh is the son of Pranav and Kaveri Malhotra. Pranav was the younger brother of Arvind Malhotra, the head of the Malhotra Empire."
My eyes widened. "Wait, I didn't even know Mr. Malhotra had a brother."
"Not many do," she replied softly. "Pranav and his wife died in a car accident years ago. Their only son, Ansh, was raised by Arvind and his wife since then. He's lived with them ever since."
I murmured, almost to myself, "So… he lost both his parents."
The girl nodded. "Yeah. But Ansh isn't like them, he prefers a simple life. Travels a lot, does photography, writes sometimes. He avoids the business side of the family."
I smiled faintly. "That explains it."
"What?" she asked.
"Why he felt… different."
They laughed it off and went back to work, but I couldn't. I was thinking of him again, this time not just as the charming stranger, but as Ansh Malhotra, a man with depth, loss, and stories behind his eyes.
On my way home that night, the city lights glowed softly, reflecting against puddles from the earlier rain. I sighed, whispering to myself,
"It's not like we'll ever meet again. We belong to two different worlds."
By the time I reached home, Mom and Dad were sitting at the dining table, their faces unusually tense. The air in the room felt heavy.
"What happened?" I asked, setting my bag down. "Is everything alright?"
Dad gave a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, everything's fine. We just… need to talk to you. But not now. Go change first."
I frowned. "You can tell me now, Papa. I'll change later."
Mom's tone was firmer. "Do as your father says, Tanvi."
I sighed. "Okay, fine."
When I returned, they were already halfway through dinner. I joined them quietly. The silence between us was strange almost thoughtful.
After a few minutes, Mom spoke softly, "Go to bed early tonight. We'll discuss everything tomorrow."
"Alright," I said, though curiosity burned inside me.
I finished my food quickly and went to my room. As I lay on my bed, exhaustion crept over me, but my thoughts wouldn't stop. Between the mysterious family, the stranger I couldn't forget, and my father's strange promise, my world was starting to feel like a puzzle waiting to fall into place.
And as sleep slowly pulled me in, I couldn't help but whisper to myself,
"Ansh Malhotra…"