The restaurant was quiet, its warm golden lights casting soft shadows across the intimate, empty tables. Ishaan stood in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, carefully garnishing a plate of butter garlic prawns. The aroma filled the room as he stepped back to inspect his work. Everything had to be perfect tonight.
When Ananya walked in, the faint sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor reached him before he turned. Her presence was understated but striking—she wore a simple green saree, its deep hue contrasting with her light complexion.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice calm, like the stillness before rain.
“Hi,” Ishaan replied, brushing his hands against his apron. “You’re right on time.”
She smiled faintly. “A rare accomplishment for me.”
He stepped forward, gesturing to the table by the window. “I’ve set up here. Best view in the house.”
The room had been arranged exclusively for her: a single table near the window overlooking the sea. A gentle breeze carried the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore outside.
“This is beautiful,” Ananya said, her voice almost a whisper.
“It’s nothing,” he said, but the effort was evident in his every gesture.
They sat, the space between them filled with the clinking of glasses and the soft rustle of the sea breeze. Ishaan poured her a glass of wine, his hands steady despite the nervous knot in his stomach.
“You own this place?” she asked, looking around.
“I do,” Ishaan replied. “Took it over a few years ago. It’s small, but… it’s mine.”
“It’s lovely,” she said, tracing the edge of her glass.
“Thanks,” he said, his lips curving into a shy smile. “I don’t usually cook for my guests, but I made an exception tonight.”
Ananya looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face. “Why?”
His smile faltered slightly, and he hesitated before answering. “Because you’re not just a guest.”
There was no response to that, only a quiet acknowledgment in her gaze.
The food arrived, carried out by Ishaan himself. “I hope you like seafood,” he said, placing the plate in front of her.
“I do,” Ananya said. “You’ve already won half the battle.”
They ate in comfortable silence at first, the flavors of the meal speaking louder than words. But gradually, the silence gave way to conversation—tentative, careful, as though neither of them wanted to disturb the delicate balance they’d found.
“Tell me about this place,” she said, gesturing to the restaurant.
“It wasn’t always like this,” Ishaan said. “I bought it after… after my divorce. Needed something to rebuild, I guess.”
Ananya paused, her fork resting on the edge of her plate. “Divorce?”
“Yeah.” He met her gaze, his expression open but tinged with vulnerability. “We were together for seven years. But… sometimes love isn’t enough.”
She nodded slowly, her own memories surfacing like ghosts. “I understand.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You do?”
“I lost my husband five years ago,” she said, her voice steady but low. “Not to a divorce. To an accident.”
Ishaan’s breath caught. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Don’t be,” she replied. “It’s not something people need to apologize for. Loss is… just a part of life.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared experiences settling between them.
“Do you ever think about starting over?” Ishaan asked hesitantly.
Ananya looked out the window, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse of the sea. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to imagine it, isn’t it? Loving again?”
“It is,” he admitted. “But I think… we owe it to ourselves to try.”
She turned back to him, her expression soft but guarded. “And do you think you’re ready for that?”
He considered her question carefully before answering. “I don’t know. But maybe readiness isn’t the point. Maybe it’s just about showing up and seeing what happens.”
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “Maybe.”
They talked long into the night, their words weaving a fragile connection across the table. For every joke or shared smile, there was a quiet moment where their vulnerabilities hung in the air, raw and exposed.
At one point, Ishaan stood and extended his hand. “Dance with me?”
Ananya blinked, surprised. “Here?”
“Why not?” he said, his voice soft but steady.
She hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand into his. He led her to the center of the room, where the music playing faintly in the background seemed to swell just for them.
They moved slowly, the rhythm less of a dance and more of a shared heartbeat. Neither spoke, letting the closeness of the moment fill the space where words weren’t needed.
When the song ended, they stepped apart, but their gazes lingered, a quiet understanding passing between them.
“It’s late,” Ananya said, glancing at her watch.
“It is,” Ishaan agreed.
They walked to the door together, the night air cool against their skin.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “For tonight. It was…”
“Bittersweet?” he offered.
She smiled. “Something like that.”
He watched as she stepped into the night, her figure fading into the shadows. For a moment, he stood there, letting the stillness of the evening settle around him.
“Some connections are not meant to be rushed—they bloom like the tides, finding their rhythm in their own time.”
