Monday felt familiar.
Ganavi.
Jahnavi.
Sudharma.
And coffee break.
Everything looked the same.
But something had shifted.
Ganavi spoke less.
That was the first thing Sudharma noticed.
She no longer carried conversations the way she usually did.
If he and Jahnavi were already talking, she let them continue.
Sometimes she finished coffee early and left before the break ended.
No drama.
No questions.
No complaints.
Just small changes.
Calls stopped.
Messages reduced.
When they spoke, it was mostly work.
Sudharma understood.
He did not know whether that made things easier or harder.
Jahnavi behaved as usual.
Or at least she appeared to.
Notebook.
Coffee.
Quiet observations.
Small comments that somehow landed harder than longer conversations.
By Wednesday, Sudharma had stopped lying to himself.
The confusion had gone.
A few conversations.
A few silences.
A few walks.
And somewhere in between, something had settled.
He was serious.
That was the simplest way to put it.
And also the most unsettling.
For the first time in years, Sudharma was thinking beyond the next conversation.
That week another routine started.
After shift, he began walking Jahnavi to the cab.
It happened naturally.
One day because they happened to leave together.
The next day because neither questioned it.
Soon it became normal.
They walked through the lobby toward pickup.
Talked about ordinary things.
Work.
Transport.
Process changes.
Customers.
Nothing important.
Yet those few minutes became the part of the day he waited for.
One evening, as they stepped out, Jahnavi said,
“You recovered fast.”
Sudharma looked at her.
“What?”
She looked straight ahead.
“At Ramanna.”
He groaned.
“Still?”
A small smile.
“Yes.”
He laughed.
“Please forget that.”
“No.”
That was Jahnavi.
She never overplayed anything.
Just one line.
Then silence.
And somehow that was enough.
At the cab, he closed the door.
She gave a small nod.
The cab left.
He stood there for a few seconds before turning back.
By Friday he had made up his mind.
Enough.
He asked as they reached the cab.
“Free tomorrow evening?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Can we meet?”
A pause.
Then:
“Outside office?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then a small nod.
“Okay.”
The cab left.
Sudharma stood there longer than usual.
He reached Café Coffee Day in Jayanagar early.
Very early.
Too early.
The junction was alive.
Traffic from two roads moved constantly.
Buses.
Autos.
Bikes.
Pedestrians crossing like traffic rules were optional.
Inside the open seating area, half the tables were occupied.
College students.
Couples.
Weekend crowd.
Coffee smell.
Cigarette smoke.
Evening Bangalore.
He picked a corner table.
One from where he could see both roads.
Jahnavi arrived exactly on time.
Simple salwar.
Hair tied back.
No office ID card.
No notebook.
Just Jahnavi.
For a second, Sudharma simply looked at her.
Then she sat.
The waiter came.
Sudharma looked at her.
“Hot or cold?”
She looked at the menu.
Then at him.
“I don’t know.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“I’ve never come to a place like this.”
She said it simply.
No embarrassment.
No pretence.
Just a fact.
That somehow made him relax.
He closed the menu.
“One Choco Frappe with vanilla ice cream.”
She looked mildly confused.
“For you.”
Then he looked at the waiter.
“One cappuccino.”
The waiter left.
Conversation began easily.
Work.
Shift timings.
Transport.
Ordinary things.
Safe things.
Then silence arrived.
Not awkward.
Just quiet.
Outside, a bus stopped at the signal.
A biker revved impatiently.
Someone laughed at a nearby table.
Sudharma looked at the road.
Then at her.
Then back at the road.
He exhaled.
“I’ve been unfair to you.”
Jahnavi said nothing.
He continued.
“You were clear much before I was.”
Still nothing.
Just that steady gaze.
Sudharma smiled faintly.
“I spent one whole week behaving like an idiot.”
That earned the faintest smile.
He continued.
“I thought I was confused.”
He paused.
Traffic moved again.
Signal changed.
“I wasn’t.”
Now he looked at her.
“I was trying to understand why this felt different.”
Jahnavi remained still.
Listening.
“This is not casual for me.”
His voice had gone quieter now.
“This is not just because you said something.”
He paused.
Then said it plainly.
“I’ve liked people before.”
“But I’ve never felt this serious about anyone.”
He held her gaze.
“This is serious for me, Jahnavi.”
Silence.
For a long moment Jahnavi said nothing.
Then she asked quietly,
“Are you saying this because I told you first?”
The question landed harder than he expected.
Sudharma answered immediately.
“No.”
No hesitation.
That seemed to matter.
She studied his face.
Carefully.
Then she asked,
“You thought this through?”
“Yes.”
A beat.
Then he added honestly,
“Too much.”
That almost made her smile again.
She looked down at her drink.
Then back at him.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.
As always.
“You took your time.”
Sudharma let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting inside him all week.
“Yes.”
A tiny pause.
A faint smile touched her face.
“I noticed.”
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