Second meeting

EPISODE 2 — “THE SECOND MEETING THAT FELT TOO SOFT”

SANA’S POV

There are exactly three things I hate in life:

Waking up early.

Wearing clothes that require ironing.

Marriage meetings.

The first meeting is tolerable — you can act insane and escape easily.

But the second meeting?

That means people think there is potential.

I don’t like potential.

Potential means danger.

Potential means feelings.

Potential means ending up crying on a terrace at 2 AM listening to Arijit Singh.

No thank you.

Yet here I was — waking up early, ironing a kurti, and putting on a necklace I didn’t even like.

Because my mother said:

“He is a nice boy, Sana. Don’t scare him away again.”

And somehow… those words felt like a punch.

Because he was nice.

Annoyingly nice.

Disturbingly calm.

Soft-voiced, steady-eyed, emotionally-dangerous nice.

Ugh.

I hated that I liked it.

I reached the café where we agreed to meet — a small place with fairy lights, wooden tables, and couples acting like coffee was more romantic than oxygen.

Gross.

Arun wasn’t there yet.

Good.

That meant I had time to practice my Not Interested But Still Respectfully Existing face.

Then the door opened.

And he walked in.

Tall. Clean. Simple beige shirt. Watch on his wrist. Eyes scanning the room slowly, carefully, like someone trained to observe.

Why did he walk like he had invisible gravity around him??

Why did he look like peace and danger combined??

Why did my heart forget how to beat properly??

Oh no.

Not this again.

NOT THIS AGAIN.

He saw me.

And his tiny smile — that gentle, barely-there one — appeared.

I stopped breathing for half a second.

He walked toward me.

Slow. Calm. Controlled.

Like he had all the time in the world.

“Hi, Sana,” he said softly.

His voice was warm.

Not hot, not cold — just… warm.

Like morning sunlight through curtains.

Stupid voice.

“Hi,” I croaked.

God. What was that sound? A dying frog?

He pulled the chair out and sat opposite me.

Then — silence.

Not awkward silence.

Not uncomfortable silence.

Just… quiet.

Quiet between us was scarier than noise.

Because noise meant distraction.

But silence?

Silence made me feel too much.

He looked at me carefully, like he was trying to understand what kind of storm I carried inside.

And that scared me more than any marriage talk.

So I blurted:

“Do you always stare at people like they’re complicated math problems?”

He blinked.

Then — that soft smile again.

“Only when they are,” he said.

Excuse me???

EXCUSE ME???

Was this man flirting??

With a straight face??

Rude.

Illegal.

Dangerously effective.

“I am not complicated,” I muttered.

“You’re not,” he agreed softly.

“You’re layered.”

L A Y E R E D?

What was this?

Poetry hour??

Was he secretly reading shayari books in his free time??

My cheeks suddenly felt hot.

I looked away.

“Stop talking like that,” I muttered.

“Like what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Like—”

I waved my hands wildly.

“Like that!”

His brows raised slightly. “I don’t know what ‘that’ means.”

Of course he didn’t.

Of course the calm man had no idea he was melting me into emotional soup.

The waiter came, breaking the tension.

I ordered cold coffee.

He ordered black coffee — obviously.

He looked like the type to drink bitterness without blinking.

Once the waiter left, he leaned back slightly.

“So… you look calmer today,” he said.

Calmer??

CALMER??

“I’m dying inside,” I said immediately.

He choked on air — very silently, very politely, but he did.

“…I see,” he murmured.

“And why is that?” he asked gently.

“Because this is creepy,” I said bluntly.

“This?”

He looked around the cozy café.

“Talking?”

“Yes!”

I slapped the table lightly.

“Why are you not awkward!? I’m awkward enough for both of us!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

“You don’t have to be,” he said quietly.

What do you mean don’t have to be????

Does he not know I was born awkward??

“I don’t know how to talk to… calm people,” I admitted before thinking.

“And I don’t know how to talk to chaotic people,” he said, surprising me.

I blinked.

Wait.

WAIT.

He just indirectly called himself calm and me chaotic.

I should be offended.

But for some reason… it sounded like a compliment.

Or maybe the coffee shop AC was too strong and freezing my brain.

I sighed.

“This is weird,” I murmured.

“What is?” he asked.

“You,” I whispered.

His eyes softened.

“Likewise,” he said.

OH FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Why was everything this man said so… gentle??

No teasing tone, no mocking, just simple honesty that hit like bullets.

I fiddled with my spoon.

“So…” he began.

“So…” I repeated like an idiot.

We both paused.

Then he smiled, a tiny upward curve.

“We’re bad at this,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, relieved.

Finally. Something we agreed on.

“But we’re trying,” he added softly.

My breath caught.

He wasn’t talking about this conversation.

He was talking about us.

About marriage.

About understanding.

About the possibility we were both scared of.

He wasn’t rushing.

He wasn’t forcing.

Just quietly trying.

For me.

And suddenly…

I didn’t know what to do with the warmth flooding my chest.

ARUN’S POV

She was nervous.

Not the dramatic kind she used to hide behind.

This was… real.

Quiet.

Raw.

Vulnerable.

The kind of nervousness people have when they’re scared of being misunderstood.

Her fingers tapped the table.

Then stopped.

Then tapped again.

She was trying to distract herself.

Trying not to overthink.

Trying not to run.

I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to try so hard.

But I didn’t speak.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because I didn’t trust myself to say the right words.

I have always been good at silence.

Silence was my shield.

Silence was my safety.

Silence was my weapon.

But with her… silence felt different.

It felt like we were building something in it.

A strange, quiet connection.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

But present.

Her eyes kept darting to mine, then away, then back again — each time with a different emotion.

Curiosity.

Confusion.

Annoyance.

Awkward attraction.

More confusion.

A hint of something soft.

Her emotions were loud even when she wasn’t speaking.

And I…

I found myself wanting to understand each one.

“You’re very observant,” she said suddenly.

It wasn’t a compliment.

It was an accusation.

I smiled a little. “Is that bad?”

“Yes,” she said instantly.

“Why?”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“Because I can’t hide anything.”

She didn’t know how true that was.

And for the first time…

I felt guilt twist in my chest.

Because there were too many things I was hiding.

Too many truths she couldn’t know yet.

Things that would break her calmness.

Break her trust.

Break her heart.

Everything.

And somehow… her fear of being understood was nothing compared to my fear of losing her when the truth came out.

“Arun?” she asked softly, noticing I zoned out.

I looked at her.

She looked worried.

About me.

That was new.

I shook my head lightly. “Nothing.”

She didn’t believe me.

Her eyes narrowed.

Suspicion.

Curiosity.

A little annoyance.

She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“You’re hiding something,” she said.

My heart stopped for a second.

She didn’t know what.

But she felt it.

Her instincts were sharp.

Too sharp.

I kept my voice steady.

“We all hide things, Sana.”

Her lips pressed together.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “But some truths hurt more.”

For a moment…

Everything inside me froze.

She didn’t know how right she was.

She didn’t know how painfully prophetic her words were.

I looked at her — really looked.

Her eyes were warm.

Alive.

Trusting.

Trusting me, a man who didn’t deserve it.

Something inside me cracked.

And I had to look away.

Because if she stared too long, she would see everything.

And I wasn’t ready for her to see the man behind the calmness.

SANA’S POV

The coffees arrived.

I grabbed my straw like it was a weapon.

Because I needed strength.

Because this man was attacking me with emotions for no reason.

“So…” I began again, desperate to break the silence.

“Tell me something about you.”

He blinked slowly.

“I work,” he said.

I waited.

“…a lot.” he continued.

I stared.

“That’s it?” I asked.

He nodded.

“That’s your introduction?? ‘I work a lot’??”I was confused

“Yes.” He said.

“What do you do?” I asked again

“Office job.”He replied

“Where?” I was already frustrated at this point.

“Near the city.” He said... He said NEAR A CITY... WTF and THAT'S IT?

“That tells me NOTHING!”

He looked at me calmly.

“I’m not very interesting.”

Liar.

L I A R.

A man like him doesn’t walk like that, talk like that, observe like that, hide like that, and call himself “not interesting.”

Suspicious.

I squinted at him.

He squinted slightly back.

“Okay, fine,” I said.

“We’ll try a simple question.”

He nodded.

“Favourite food.”

He paused.

“…anything simple.”

“Favourite movie.”

He shrugged.

“Favourite colour.”

He thought.

Genuinely thought.

“…white.”

“WHITE??” I burst out.

“You’re boring!”

He cracked the tiniest laugh.

Tiny.

But real.

“I knew you’d say that.”

“I mean—WHITE? Really? That’s like saying your favourite emotion is ‘okay.’”

He looked amused.

“And what’s your favourite colour?” he asked.

“Rainbow.”

He blinked.

Twice.

“…That is not a colour.”

“It is if you believe in magic.”

He exhaled a soft laugh—

Barely audible, but I felt it.

And I liked it way too much.

Stop smiling, Sana.

STOP SMILING.

Too late.

ARUN’S POV

She was laughing.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just softly.

Genuinely.

And it changed the air around us.

Her eyes crinkled.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her voice lost its defensive edge.

She was letting me in.

Slowly.

Unknowingly.

Dangerously.

I took a sip of my coffee.

But I wasn’t focusing on the taste.

I was focusing on her.

She was chaos — but not the messy kind.

The kind that filled empty spaces.

The kind that made quiet rooms feel alive.

And for someone like me…

quiet had always meant loneliness.

But with her, quiet felt different.

It felt like… company.

“Sana,” I said softly.

She looked up, mid-sip, straw still in her mouth.

Cute.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For meeting me again.”

Her fingers froze around the cup.

Something flickered in her eyes.

Surprise.

Confusion.

Softness.

She swallowed slowly.

“I mean… we didn’t have to,” she whispered.

“But I didn’t… hate it.”

“I didn’t either,” I said.

She looked away, chewing her straw.

Her voice dropped.

“So… are we doing this again?”

“Doing what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely.

“Talking. Meeting. Being weird around each other.”

I paused.

I didn’t want to rush her.

I didn’t want to pressure her.

But I wanted to know her.

More than I expected.

More than I should.

“If you want to,” I said gently.

She hesitated.

Then—

a tiny, tiny nod.

Barely visible.

But enough.

SANA’S POV

The meeting ended with:

awkward smiles

shy goodbyes

too much eye contact

too much heartbeat

too much everything

I stood outside the café, watching him walk away.

Straight back.

Slow steps.

Hands in pockets.

Quiet confidence.

He turned once — just once — to see if I left safely.

And that stupid simple gesture…

Made my breath hitch.

Why is he like this?

Why does he care?

Why does he look at me like I’m something worth understanding?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t want to know.

But I was already thinking about him.

And that was the scariest part.

ARUN’S POV

I walked away.

But not far.

I glanced back once to make sure she wasn’t alone.

She didn’t notice.

Good.

Because if she did…

she would know I wasn’t as calm as I looked.

Not around her.

Not anymore.

I shouldn’t get attached.

I shouldn’t let her close.

I shouldn’t let myself feel this.

Not with secrets buried too deep.

Not with the past still haunting me.

Not with the truth I couldn’t tell her.

But when she smiled — even for a moment —

a part of me felt alive again.

And I knew…

This girl was going to break every wall I had.

And I wasn’t even resisting.

END OF EPISODE 2

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