I tried to convince myself it was nothing. Just a conversation. A single night. It shouldn't have amounted to more. That's what I kept telling myself.
But when I saw him again, it didn't feel like chance.
I was at my regular café, the kind of quiet place where things always stayed the same. Safe. Predictable. I was sitting by the window with a book, but I hadn't turned a page in ages. Something felt off, like someone was watching me.
I glanced up.
And there he was.
Sitting across the room as if he'd always been there.
Vihaan.
Our eyes met. Again. And like before, he held my gaze.
He got up and walked towards me as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Do you come here often?" he asked.
I snapped the book shut. "Does it matter?"
"Maybe."
"Why?"
"Because I don't believe in accidents," he said evenly. "And this doesn't feel like one."
"You're assuming things again."
"And you're avoiding them again."
His eyes were fixed on mine. It made me uneasy.
"You have a way of turning up wherever I am," I said.
"Or perhaps," he moved closer, his voice dropping, "you have a way of being wherever I want you to be."
"That sounds like control."
"It is."
No hesitation. No denial.
I stood up, needing some space, but it didn't help. He was still too close, too aware of me.
"You should stop this," I said.
"Stop what?"
"This… whatever this is."
"You still think this is a small thing," he murmured.
"I think it's unnecessary."
"Unnecessary things don't stick in your mind."
My breath hitched. I hated that he was right.
"Why me?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He paused, studying me as if the answer held more weight than the question itself.
"Because you don't react."
"That's it?"
"It's part of it."
"What's the rest?"
He closed the distance between us again, just enough to make my thoughts fuzzy.
"You'll figure it out."
"I'm not interested."
A lie.
"I didn't ask if you were," he said softly. "Interest isn't always a choice."
Something shifted between us again. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"You should leave," I said.
Not because I wanted him to, but because I knew I had to say it.
"You'll see me again," he said.
"You seem awfully sure of yourself."
"I don't say things I'm not certain about."
And then he stepped back. Finally. But it felt like he had taken something with him.
I watched him walk away.
And for the first time, I didn't feel relieved.
I felt… unsettled.
Because deep down, I knew this wasn't a coincidence.
It wasn't harmless.
And it definitely wasn't over.
Because our second meeting wasn't an accident.
It was a deliberate act.
And somehow, I was already tangled up in it.