Give me that smile

The red thread

He smiled at me, just like any stranger would but,

The smile hit me like sunshine on a cloudy day. One moment I was walking down the street, the next, a guy with a sad smile and a well-worn Dostoevsky book was lighting up my world. It wasn't a perfect smile, a hint of sadness lingered at the corner of his lips, but it did something magical. I couldn't stop thinking about it – that flicker of happiness against the haunted look in his eyes.

Every day after that, I found myself drawn to the same street corner, a nervous butterfly trapped in my chest. Each time he passed, our eyes met, but the smile was gone. Instead, there was a pain that mirrored the one growing in me. My life was plain vanilla, a predictable routine I knew by heart. But this guy, with his one fleeting smile and those eyes that held a story I desperately wanted to hear, had made it Technicolor.

Days turned into weeks, and still, I never approached him. The thought terrified me, but the desire to know more about him burned brighter. Finally, after another day of watching him walk past with that lingering sadness, I knew I couldn't stay silent. My hands trembled slightly as I grabbed a pen and paper, the blank page a daunting challenge. What could I possibly say that wouldn't sound stupid? I took a deep breath, willing myself to be brave. Words flowed onto the page, clumsy at first, then growing more honest as I poured my heart out. I confessed the way his smile had shaken my world, how his sadness resonated with a hidden ache in my own soul. It was a long shot, an arrow shot blindly into the dark, but I had to try. With a racing heart, I folded the letter, leaving it on the familiar park bench with a silent plea.

The walk home was a blur of nervous excitement. Every step felt lighter, my head buzzing with a million possibilities. Would he read it? Would he even care? The answer awaited me tomorrow, and the wait stretched before me like an eternity.

The next day arrived, dragging its feet like a reluctant dog. My stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and dread. Rushing to the park bench, I scanned the familiar spot. There it was, a folded piece of paper nestled amongst the leaves. It felt heavier than I expected, a single sheet transformed into a weight on my chest. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.

Scrawled across the page, in handwriting that seemed unfamiliar, were just two sentences: "Hey, nice to know you're there. Don't disappear again."

Disappointment washed over me. Two sentences? After pouring out my heart across two pages, all I got was this? A flicker of doubt sparked. Was he interested, or was this just a polite response?

But something about the note, a faint echo in the phrasing, held me to that park bench. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it felt like a connection, a faint tug on the red thread of fate that had pulled me towards him in the first place. The thread that made me fall for his smile, the thread that made my heart ache with his sadness, the thread that whispered a promise of a smile returned.

Desperate to get to know the stranger, I applied for a job at the cafe where he works. The interview was a disaster – the manager seemed grumpy, and my nerves were shot. But somehow, I landed the job. My first day on the job, working the same shift as him, felt like stepping into a movie. My first mission was to learn his name. But to my disappointment, I was working on the first floor but he was on the fifth floor. I knew my bad luck. But I managed to get to his floor. He was arranging the shaft, I was cleaning the floor. I was trying my best to see the nameplate on his chest. I felt he knew I was picking him. So, I tried my best to act low. Unfortunately, at 5'6", I was a good inch shorter than him (6'5"). Seeing his name tag felt like trying to decipher hieroglyphics from the floor. My first attempt involved a near collision with a customer. Then I gave up this mission and started working with a full concentration. (PS: I was a pro at cleaning ) A voice came from behind "Are you new here?". That damn voice was his  I could recognize that voice. I turned back in a rush to give a reply to him but he was right behind me. We collided of course I landed on him - right on his name tag. "Ahan Kapoor" I was staring at that and I was lost for a second in that weird position. When I realized and looked at him. He was glaring at me with a doubtful expression.  As I scrambled to apologize, a customer called for him, and he rushed off. Relief washed over me, followed by a secret smile – "his name was Ahan!" Just then, the grumpy manager appeared, having witnessed the entire debacle. "Done with the 'bush-cleaning'?" he said sarcastically. My cheeks burned. He continued, "I saw everything. Now, get back to work. Remember, colleagues can't date."

My heart sank. Not only did I have a new, clumsy nickname, but dating Ahan was now off-limits. This wasn't exactly how I planned to get to know him, and the red thread of fate seemed to be tangled in a big knot! 

The first day was a disaster, a truth that sat heavy in my stomach. Ahan probably thought I was some clumsy newbie with questionable cleaning techniques. Not exactly the charming introduction I'd envisioned.

The second day dawned, and my mission remained the same – to tell him my name, this time with less... physical involvement. But how could I even face him after yesterday's faceplant? My stomach churned just at the thought.

Despite my anxieties, I arrived at work, a nervous knot forming in my throat. Fate, however, seemed determined to keep us apart. When I spotted Ahan, mustered my courage, and approached him with a tentative "Hey Ahan," ready to apologize and finally introduce myself, the familiar booming voice of my manager cut through the air.

"No chitchatting at work!" he barked, his words dripping with disapproval. I gritted my teeth internally. "Ugh, this guy," I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling over. "Go back to your work right now," he added, leaving no room for argument.

Feeling defeated, I slunk back to my assigned tasks. The red thread of fate, once a source of hope, now felt like a cruel joke. Would I ever get the chance to talk to Ahan normally?

The second day was a complete disaster. Talking to Ahan felt like scaling Mount Everest in flip-flops – impossible. Dejected, I threw myself into my work, stealing glances at Ahan whenever the manager wasn't lurking. Our interactions remained painfully limited – a shy smile here, a quick nod there, but nothing that hinted at a real connection. My carefully crafted plans to chat with him always seemed to fall apart at the seams.

Days bled into weeks, each one chipping away at my initial optimism. Was the red thread leading me astray? One particularly late shift, the exhaustion finally caught up with me. It was around midnight, and the streets were deserted. Leaving the cafe after a closing shift, I felt a wave of dizziness and fatigue. Wrapping my cardigan tighter, I started the walk home, the silence broken only by the click of my heels on the pavement.

Suddenly, a rush of movement from behind. Strong arms encircled me, my nose clamped shut by a hand reeking of something acrid. Panic surged through me. I couldn't breathe! My vision swam – this was it, this was how it ended. With a surge of adrenaline, I fought back, shoving blindly against the attacker.

The world spun back into focus. My head throbbed, and my body ached. Ice in my veins as I took in my surroundings.

I wasn't in the cafe. I was bound to a chair, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee a twisted mockery in the dimly lit room. Across from me stood none other than my ever-so-pleasant manager, a chilling smile plastered on his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness. "Look who finally woke up."

 To be continued, Thankyou for reading. see ya ;)