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Aadrika had always been drawn to quiet spaces. For her, the quaint café nestled in the heart of the town had become a second home. It was where her thoughts found clarity, and the words flowed freely. As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries filled her senses. The café was small, intimate, and never too crowded, perfect for a writer like her.
She waved at the cashier, an elderly woman who always greeted her with a warm smile. “Morning, Aunty,” Aadrika said cheerfully.
The woman waved back, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good morning, dear. Your usual?”
Aadrika smiled and nodded. They had established a bond over the years. Despite her age, the woman carried herself with a youthful energy. Aadrika frequented the café so often that she knew the staff by name, including Zoya, the college student working part-time to support her family.
The café wasn’t a well-known spot, which suited Aadrika perfectly. Its nature-themed interior—with earthy green and brown tones—combined with modern furniture made it a serene place. She found her usual spot, a corner table by the glass wall that offered a view of the bustling street outside. The sight of college students hurrying by, parents with their energetic children, and office workers heading to their jobs gave her a sense of connection to the world, even as she sat apart from it, wrapped in her thoughts.
She barely had time to settle in before Zoya approached with her order: a steaming cup of black coffee and a slice of vanilla pastry.
“Here you go, ma’am,” Zoya said with her usual politeness, placing the items carefully on the table.
Aadrika smiled up at her. “Thanks, Zoya.” She admired the girl’s dedication. Zoya was working hard to save money for her mother’s breast cancer treatment, and though Aadrika had tried to offer financial help, Zoya always refused. So Aadrika found another way, secretly giving money to Zoya’s father. It wasn’t much, but it helped ease the burden.
Zoya nodded and smiled before heading back to the counter. Aadrika took a sip of her coffee, the bitterness spreading through her mouth, grounding her. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and began typing, losing herself in the story she was crafting. The café’s peaceful ambiance, the quiet murmur of other patrons, and the occasional sound of Zoya taking orders all blended into the background.
Hours passed in a blur as Aadrika continued to work. By the time she finished the chapter she had been struggling with, she glanced up at the clock and realized it was well into the afternoon.
“Oh no, Kaira’s going to kill me,” she muttered, hurriedly packing her things.
Kaira, her best friend, had been pestering her all week to go out for lunch. After several days of putting it off, Aadrika had finally agreed, but now she was late. She waved goodbye to the cashier, who waved back with a knowing smile, and rushed out of the café, her thoughts racing.
Mumbling curses under her breath, Aadrika picked up her pace, hoping Kaira wouldn’t be too mad. Her mind was so occupied with how to make it up to her that she didn’t notice the truck speeding towards her.
The screech of tires snapped her out of her thoughts just in time to feel a sharp shove, knocking her to the ground. She hit the pavement with a thud, her heart racing as the truck roared past, missing her by inches.
YOU ARE READING
AADRIKA : The writer of the story
Historical FictionAADRIKA : " Everything has beauty, But not everyone sees it." Aadrika was a famous writer who never thought that one day she would be trapped in the very own story she wrote herself. After getting in an accident, when she opened her eye...
