Unspoken Flames
The café's rooftop was quiet, a gentle breeze rustling through the potted plants that lined the terrace. A table in the far corner waited for them — half-shadowed, half-soaked in sun.
Siddarth pulled out a chair for her, a simple gesture, but one that made her pulse quicken. He sat across from her, elbows resting casually on the table, blue eyes locked on hers with a quiet intensity.
"I used to imagine this," she said, stirring her iced tea without drinking. "Sitting with you again. You, successful and cold. Me, still chasing your warmth."
Siddarth leaned forward, his voice a soft thunder. "Cold? You think I'm cold?"
She met his gaze, chin tilted. "You built walls around you. Steel walls. And now you wear suits and silence like armor."
His lips curved into a slight smile, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "And yet you walked straight through those walls."
She blinked. "Did I?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers — just once, light as breath — but it was enough. Her breath caught, her skin humming from that single touch.
"I didn't expect to see you today," he said. "And I wasn't ready."
"For what?"
"For the way you still undo me."
Silence bloomed between them, not awkward, but electric — like a storm about to break.