What A Beautiful Face She Has

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Stella's POV:

I was sitting on the couch, texting my new client. Just then, I got a call from my dad.

I picked up the call.

"Hello, sollunga pa."
(Hello, tell me, Dad.)

"Enna ma panitu iruka?"
(What are you doing, dear?)

"Velai dha pa. Ennachu? Edhachum important vishayama?"
(Just work, Dad. What happened? Is it something important?)

"Illa ma, oru vishayam pesanum."
(Nothing much, I just need to talk about something.)

"Sollunga."
(Go ahead.)

"Onnula ma, iniku en friend ah meet pannen. Apo unna pathi pesitu irukumbodhu, avan sonna avanoda paiyanuku nee panra velai romba pudichi irukam. Adha pathi unkita pesanumnu romba aarvama irukana ma, andha paiyan."
(So I met my friend today. While we were talking about you, he mentioned that his son really likes the kind of work you do. He’s very eager to talk to you about it, dear.)

"Enna pesanum pa?"
(What does he want to talk about?)

"Avanukum indha madhiri counselling kudukuradhu, mathavangaluku mentally help panradhu pudikumam. Adhan, un kita suggestions keka poranu sonnanga. Avana iniku sharp 4 pm, Writer's Cafe la meet panriya?"
(Apparently, he’s also interested in giving counselling and helping others mentally. So he said he wants to get suggestions from you. Can you meet him at 4 PM today at the Writer's Café?)

"Ohh, apdiya. Seri, Dad. I'll go," I said.

I hung up the call and started rotating my phone with my fingers.

Just then, I remembered that I was having a conversation with my client. I got back to work and continued talking.

Time Skip,

I entered Writer’s Café, the cozy warmth and smell of coffee mingling with freshly baked pastries immediately wrapping me in a sense of familiarity.

It had been a long time since I had stepped foot in this place. My heart sank a little as my mind wandered back to the first and last time I had come here—when I had been with Mathew.

That day had been perfect, in every sense, until it wasn’t. I could still remember our hesitance, Mathew’s playful whining over the ice cream issue, the shared mac and cheese, and how everything had felt like a new beginning. Now, those memories were bittersweet, tinged with the kind of pain only time could dull.

I found myself at the same table by the window, where I had once sat with Mathew. My fingers traced the grain of the wooden surface, my heart heavy with nostalgia.

"Please, tell me your order, ma'am?" The waiter’s voice brought me back to the present.

I blinked and looked up at him.

"I’m waiting for someone," I replied with a polite smile, gently declining the menu he offered.

The waiter nodded and left me alone.

Moments later, a voice broke through the soft hum of the café.

"Stella?"

I turned and saw him, Raghu, my dad’s friend’s son, standing just a few feet away with an awkward but warm smile. He was someone I had only heard about from my father but never met. An aspiring individual who, like me, had a passion for helping others. His focus was on helping people with depression.

"Hii," I said, slightly surprised.

"Hii, I'm Raghu," he replied.

Raghu laughed nervously as he walked closer and extended his hand. "Finally, good to meet you in person."