South Delhi — 12:30 a.m.
Rohit's bike stopped outside a small street-side food plaza.
The restaurant's front door was shut.
Still wearing his helmet, Rohit glanced at the closed sign.
"That's three."
Behind him, Sheetal sat in her office suit, one hand resting on his shoulder for support. She stared at the locked restaurant and lowered her head in defeat.
"Who would've thought they'd close this early? At midnight, of all times. What a shame."
"Hey, it's not your fault," Rohit said. "You just wanted me to eat somewhere decent instead of some random place."
Sheetal still looked guilty.
"I'm sorry, Rohit. Because of me, you're starving. But these days, online reviews can't always be trusted. It's better to go somewhere you're familiar with, especially at this hour—"
Rohit rolled his eyes beneath the helmet.
I'm hungry, and she's giving me a lecture on restaurant selection.
Still, he kept his tone polite.
