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unwind with : Tu Zaroori by Sunidhi Chauhan, Shaarib Toshi
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The night did not fall suddenly but it exhaled. Slowly. Deliberately. Like it had been waiting all day for the café to empty so it could finally breathe inside it. One by one my staff left. One of my staff waved with flour on her cheek, Chef forgot his hoodie and came back laughing. Ritu switched off the fairy lights above the window with unnecessary gentleness. The bell on the door rang for each of them a small silver goodbye until the last sound faded and the café was mine again. The hum of the refrigerator, the faint clink of cooling cups, the smell of burnt coffee and sugar everything felt alive still suspended.
I moved toward the flower wall, my favorite lie in the entire place. People thought it was romantic. I knew it was tired. I began removing the unsold pastries from the corner shelf. Almond croissants stiffened into pride, chocolate cookies cracked like secrets they refused to keep. I placed them carefully into boxes, whispering apologies no one could hear. The flowers came next. Roses drooping in resignation, sunflowers still pretending they were not hurt. My fingers smelled like sugar and damp stems like celebration that overstayed. That was when my phone vibrated. I did not look at the screen immediately. I already knew. Some calls announce themselves before they arrive.
“Naina.”
I said softly, answering.
“Aavi.”
She breathed and the way she said my name carried dust, distance and roads.
