The Meeting at the Tea Stall

I was already waiting when That guy arrived.

The tiny roadside tea stall near Majestic wasn't much—just a few plastic stools, a steaming kettle, and the sharp, spiced scent of freshly brewed tea hanging in the air.

That guy hesitated at the edge of the stall, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

I waved him over with a grin. "Hey, you actually came!"

That guy blinked. "You... said I owe you chai."

I grin widened. "So you do listen to me."

That guy didn't react. No embarrassment. No flustered stammering. Just a steady gaze, as if he was evaluating me.

I coughed, sliding a cup of chai toward him. "Right. Anyway. Here. Let's call it even."

That guy took the cup, fingers wrapping around it.

No quiet "thanks."

No soft reactions.

Just a sip.

I studied the guy before him.

Was he just this closed-off with everyone? Or was he just not interested in talking to me? (If yes, then why?)

The silence stretched, but Mehul didn't seem uncomfortable. He sat in it like it belonged to him.

I tapped my fingers against the cup, tilting my head. "Are you, like, a secret agent or something?"

That guy paused mid-sip. "What?"

"I don't know, man. You're all mysterious, broody, no small talk." I squinted at him. "Are you about to assassinate me?"

That guy stared. "If I was, I wouldn't tell you."

I choked on my chai.

Did he just—was that—a joke?!

I burst out laughing. "Oh my god. You do have a personality."

That guy sipped his chai again. "I never said I didn't."

I grinned, pointing at him. "You're good. You're really good."

That guy didn't say anything. Just watched.

And I—for the first time in a long time—felt like he couldn't predict what would happen next.

And actually? I liked it.

A few minutes passed, the rain outside slowing to a drizzle. The tea stall buzzed with people ordering second rounds of chai, but at their table, it was just silence—until I finally broke it.

"You know, I don't even know your name."

That guy didn't react. Just took another sip.

I squinted. "Are you gonna tell me, or do I just call you 'mystery guy' forever?"

Another pause.

Then—a small surrender.

"...Mehul."

I blinked. "Huh?"

Mehul glanced at him. "My name."

Oh. Oh.

So he does talk.

I grinned. "Mehul, huh? Alright, that's progress. I was starting to think I'd have to call you 'chai debtor' forever."

Mehul didn't respond, but something in his expression shifted—like he was trying to figure me out.

I stuck out my hand. "Vihaan. Since we're officially exchanging secrets now."

Mehul looked at the outstretched hand for a long second.

Then, with mild hesitation, he reached out and shook it.

His grip was light but firm, like he wasn't used to casual touches but didn't want to seem rude.

I held onto it just a little longer than necessary, smirking. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Mehul pulled his hand back immediately, looking away.

I chuckled. Adorable.

The tea stall around them buzzed with life—people talking, scooters zooming past, the distant honk of a bus trying to squeeze through traffic.

But here, at this tiny plastic table, it felt quieter.

I tapped my fingers against the cup. "So, why'd you actually agree to this?"

Mehul looked up.

I shrugged. "The chai. Meeting me again. You don't seem like the type who hangs out with random strangers."

Mehul was silent for a long moment, like he was deciding whether to answer or not.

Then, finally—

"You were persistent," he said simply.

I blinked. "That's it?"

Mehul nodded.

I scoffed. "Damn. I was expecting something more poetic. Like, 'You intrigued me,I couldn't resist your undeniable charm.'"

Mehul just stared. "No."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Alright, fine. I'll take what I can get."

They fell into another silence.

But this time, I didn't mind it as much.

It was... comfortable. In a strange way.

Mehul checked his watch. "I should go."

I immediately sat up. "Already?"

Mehul gave him a look. "We finished the chai. And the debt is paid."

I frowned. "Wow. So transactional."

Mehul stood up. "Isn't that how this started?"

I hated that he had a point.

Still, he wasn't ready to let the moment end just yet.

"You know," I started, watching as Mehul adjusted the strap of his bag, "if you ever get the urge to drink chai again, I wouldn't mind a repeat of this."

Mehul looked at me, unreadable as always.

Then—the slightest tilt of his head.

"...We'll see."

I froze. That wasn't a no.

Before I could say anything else, Mehul turned and walked off, disappearing into the crowd like a shadow.

I sat there, staring after him, wondering if I'd just imagined that tiny flicker of amusement in Mehul's eyes.

And then—he smiled. Oh, he was so screwed.