DIYA'S POV
A year of pixelated faces. A year of muffled voices cutting in and out. A year of existing through a screen.
And then—real life.
No more frozen smiles. No more awkward lags. Just flesh, blood, and the electric hum of possibility.
College. In person. Finally.
It was just a casual get-together—last-minute, messy, thrown together by a group chat that had spent too long as text on a screen. But the second I stepped into that café, the air felt different.
Something was about to begin.
And then… he walked in.
Maddy.
We'd spoken once—one single video call, barely thirty minutes long. But his voice had lingered in my head for weeks. The way he laughed, low and unhurried, like he wasn't in a rush to impress anyone.
And now he was here.
I'd gotten ready too early. Changed outfits twice. Told myself it wasn't for him.
(Lie.)
The café buzzed with voices, familiar yet strange in three dimensions. But he wasn't there.
"Maddy's running late," someone said.
I smiled. Nodded. Pretended my pulse wasn't hammering.
(It was.)
An hour later, the door swung open.
And there he stood.
Black t-shirt. Black jeans. A quiet smile that didn't demand anything.
He looked like stillness in a world that never stopped moving.
Then his eyes found mine.
And suddenly, the room blurred.
He walked toward me, and when his fingers brushed mine in a handshake, warmth shot straight to my chest.
Too fast. Too much.
We sat—him across from me, the table between us feeling like an ocean.
Then he tilted his head, eyes flickering with something playful. Something curious.
"Hey… why don't you come sit here? Beside me?"
Five words.
That was all it took.
I moved.
And just like that—the distance between us collapsed.
MADDY'S POV
I was late.
Not on purpose. Just… life. Traffic. Overthinking whether I should've even come.
But then I walked in, and she was there.
Diya.
We'd talked once. One call. And yet—
Her voice had stuck with me. The way her sentences tangled when she got excited. The way she listened, like every word mattered.
Now she was sitting there, real and alive, fingers tapping nervously against her coffee cup.
I didn't plan to ask her to move.
But when she sat across from me, hands folded too neatly, eyes avoiding mine—
Something in me itched.
The table was too wide. The noise was too loud. And I just…
Wanted her closer.
So I said it.
"Hey… why don't you come sit here? Beside me?"
A gamble.
But then—
She stood.
And suddenly, the air between us changed.