The streets were half-asleep.

Faded signboards blinked on and off, the glow of their neon words melting into the wet asphalt. A soft drizzle had stopped not long ago, leaving the air cold enough to sting.

Devansh pulled his coat tighter and glanced at his watch.

11:11 p.m.

The world’s favorite time to wish. He hadn’t made one in years.

Every shop on the lane was closed except for a single café tucked between a bookstore and a shuttered flower shop.

Its old sign hummed in pale blue: “OPEN 24 HOURS.”

He hesitated a moment before pushing the door. The small bell above it rang—a fragile sound that somehow filled the emptiness around him.

Warmth wrapped over him immediately. The faint aroma of roasted beans, vanilla, and damp wood seeped into his lungs.

The quiet jazz in the background played like a memory he’d almost forgotten.

He found a corner table near the window and sat down. His reflection stared back at him in the glass—hair a bit messy, eyes carrying the kind of tiredness fame never fixes.

He was supposed to be working on a new book.

Deadlines, interviews, messages—people still called him the storyteller who could make hearts feel rain.

But lately, every page stayed blank. The words he’d once poured out with ease had turned into silence.

He rubbed his temples, then noticed her.

Behind the counter stood a girl in a dark apron, sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows.

Her hair, black as fresh ink, framed a face too calm for this hour.

She moved quietly, like the night itself had learned to walk in human form.

Something about her made him reach for the old notebook he’d been carrying only out of habit.

He flipped it open. The pen felt unfamiliar in his hand—but then the words started coming, uncertain but real.

Half a page later, he stopped.

He looked up again, and this time she was walking toward him.

“What would you like to have, sir?” she asked.

Her tone was polite but gentle, carrying a strange echo that made him forget the rest of the café.

“Uh…” He blinked, caught off guard. “Whatever you have.”

A small smile curved on her lips. “It’s a 24-hour café. We have everything.”

He chuckled quietly. “Then… a cup of coffee. And two veg patties, please.”

“Okay, sir,” she said softly and turned toward the kitchen.

As she moved away, Devansh noticed something strange—the café lights flickered for just a second when she passed beneath them, and for a moment, her skin caught the glow like glass under moonlight.

It made him blink twice, unsure if it was just his tired eyes playing tricks.

When she returned, she placed the tray in front of him carefully.

The steam rising from the coffee curled like a slow breath; the aroma was rich, grounding.

For the first time in months, he felt present. Real.

“Thank you,” he said.

She nodded once, that faint smile still lingering. “Enjoy your coffee, sir.”

Devansh watched her disappear behind the counter door.

For the first time in months, the silence around him didn’t feel empty—it felt alive.

He glanced at his notebook again.

On the open page, he had written only one sentence:

The night that changed everything began with coffee at 11:11.

He didn’t know why his hand trembled a little when he underlined it.

Outside, the wind brushed against the windowpane. Inside, the bell above the kitchen door rang again.

And somewhere between the two sounds, Devansh realized—

he’d just met the reason he’d start writing again.

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Author's Note: Hey everyone 🤍

First of all — a very happy New Year to you all!

With the end of The Rainy Love Story, I wanted to start this new year with a new story — one that’s quieter, darker, and a little closer to the heart.

“The Café at 11:11” is a story about nights, wishes, coffee, and the kind of love that exists only when the world slows down. It’s slow, emotional, and meant to be felt rather than rushed.

Thank you for all the love you gave to TRLS — every comment, every message, every silent reader who stayed till the end. I truly write for you all, and your support means more than you know.

I hope you enjoy this journey as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Keep commenting, keep sharing, keep loving 🤍

And you guys can enjoy this series on Royal Road & Inkitt as well, you can search the same name as this story, or you can search my author name as well.

And once again — wishing you a safe, peaceful, and beautiful New Year.

— Hgamer Writes