The rain hadn’t stopped that night. It was softer now — not angry, not heavy — just a constant whisper brushing against the glass. The café glowed like a lantern in the mist, a small warm world where time didn’t rush.

Devansh pushed open the door, greeted by the familiar chime.

He didn’t need to look around. He already knew she would be there — behind the counter, half-busy wiping the same cup twice, pretending not to notice him until he did.

“You’re late,” she said with a small grin.

“Traffic,” he replied. “Or maybe the rain wanted me to stay longer.”

“Or maybe,” she teased, “you just can’t stay away from your coffee.”

He smiled. “Depends on who’s serving it.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her laugh.

Their conversations had started to find their rhythm — the pauses, the teasing, the comfortable quiets that spoke more than words. She didn’t need to ask his order anymore.

“Coffee without sugar, right?” she said, already turning.

He nodded, watching the steam curl from the cup she prepared — the way her fingers moved, steady and gentle. There was something in her that reminded him of the rain — calm on the surface, but endless underneath.

He opened his notebook and began writing again.

“She feels like twilight — that moment between light and dark when the world is unsure which side it belongs to.”

Her voice interrupted him softly. “Writing about me again?”

“Maybe,” he said.

She smiled — but her eyes flickered for a moment. “Then be careful,” she whispered, “the night keeps its own secrets.”

He chuckled, thinking it was another playful comment. But the way she said it — it didn’t sound like a joke.

Thunder rolled outside. The lights flickered, once… twice… and then dimmed.

The world went half-dark. The big glass window beside him turned into a mirror, reflecting the warm orange glow of the lamps and his own faint silhouette.

He looked up absently — and froze.

In the reflection, the counter was empty.

No one stood there.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then looked over his shoulder.

She was right there. Standing, pouring milk into another cup, her movements fluid as ever.

He looked back at the glass — still empty.

Only his reflection stared back.

A strange chill ran down his spine. The hum of rain suddenly felt too close, too alive. He turned away quickly, pretending to focus on his writing again.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing the stillness in him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just… déjà vu.”

She tilted her head slightly. Her expression softened — not confused, but almost knowing. “Hmm,” she said simply, and went back to her work.

When the lights flickered again, her reflection appeared for just a second — and in it, she wasn’t wearing the same dress. It looked older. Torn. Like a ghost caught between two times.

And when she looked back at him, her eyes glowed faintly blue — the same hue as the café’s sign.

When the lights came back fully, the window returned to normal — both reflections visible now.

But his heartbeat hadn’t slowed.

He finished his coffee in silence.

As he stood to leave, she said, “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, though his eyes drifted to the glass door before he stepped out.

The reflection stared back — only him again. She stood inside, waving softly, unaware.

Or maybe she was pretending.

The rain outside felt colder this time. As he walked away, the thought echoed quietly in his chest:

“Some truths wait for the night to tell them.”

---------

Author’s Note

Hey everyone 🤍

Just wanted to share something real with you all.

I’m currently working on a future project alongside this story, and honestly — the amount of time that’s gone into this one is insane. This project alone has crossed 100+ hours of writing, and I’m still around Chapter 18. To put it into perspective, Chapter 18 by itself took nearly 6–7 hours to shape the way it felt right.

Writing this hasn’t been about rushing chapters out — it’s been about letting the atmosphere, emotions, and silences breathe. And I’m giving the same care (maybe even more) to the next project, which will be releasing after this one. If everything goes the way it’s forming in my head… it’s going to be amazing as hell.

Thank you for reading, seriously.

Keep commenting, keep reading — your words push me to write better every time.

Peace out 🤍