THEM 'Ishman'

Coffee Shop

The bell above the door chimed as another customer walked into the café, shaking off the chill of the early morning air. 

It was still quiet inside, with only a few regulars occupying the tables, sipping their drinks and reading newspapers. 

Ishan, the barista, stood behind the counter, his fingers moving expertly across the espresso machine. 

He had already memorized the morning rush routine, but his attention wasn't really on his work today.

It was 8:30 a.m., right on cue, when the door opened again, and Shubman entered the shop.

 Ishan tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart betrayed him, doing a little flip the moment he saw Shubman's familiar face.

 Dressed in a light grey hoodie and jeans, with his hair slightly tousled, Shubman looked effortlessly charming. He always did.

"Morning, Ishan." Shubman said, smiling as he approached the counter.

"Morning, Shubman." Ishan replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "The usual?"

Shubman grinned. "You know me too well. A tall cappuccino with a dash of cinnamon, please."

Ishan nodded, already reaching for the to-go cup.

 He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he turned his back to prepare the drink.

 Shubman had been coming in almost every day for the past month, and each time, he made Ishan's heart race just a little faster.

As he frothed the milk, Ishan grabbed a pen, hesitated for a moment, then quickly scribbled something on the side of the cup before the courage slipped away. 

With a final touch of cinnamon on top, he placed the cup on the counter and looked up at Shubman, who was watching him with an amused expression.

"Here you go,. Ishan said, sliding the cup across. "One cappuccino, just the way you like it."

"Thanks, Ishan." Shubman said, picking up the cup. He was about to turn and leave when he noticed the writing on the side. 

His eyebrows arched slightly as he read the note: You make my mornings brighter.

For a moment, Shubman stood still, staring at the cup, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He looked back up at Ishan, who was already blushing furiously, pretending to clean the counter to avoid eye contact.

"I think you just made my morning brighter too." Shubman said softly, his eyes locked on Ishan's.

Ishan's hand paused mid-clean, and he looked up, meeting Shubman's gaze. 

There was something in Shubman's eyes—something warm and genuine that made Ishan's heart feel like it was about to burst.

Before Ishan could respond, a group of customers walked in, and the moment was broken. Shubman gave him a small nod, holding up the cup as if to say thank you, and then headed out the door, leaving Ishan standing there with a goofy grin on his face.

The following morning, Ishan was unusually nervous. He kept glancing at the clock, his hands fidgeting as he waited for Shubman's usual arrival. 

He replayed yesterday's moment in his mind, wondering if he had imagined the way Shubman had smiled at him.

At exactly 8:30 a.m., the bell chimed again, and Shubman walked in, looking even more handsome than Ishan remembered. 

His smile was brighter today, his steps a bit more confident. He approached the counter, and Ishan could feel the electricity in the air between them.

"Morning, Ishan." Shubman said, his voice softer, almost teasing.