One Evening;

Jhanvi was busy at the counter of Café, hands dusted with flour as she carefully arranged the day's final batch of cupcakes.

 Reeva was at the back, handling inventory and replying to pending supplier emails. With Jay out of town, the pressure had doubled on both of them, but they managed with their usual fire and finesse.

The chime of the café's landline phone rang unexpectedly, slicing through the soft indie music playing in the background.

Jhanvi wiped her hands quickly and picked up the receiver.

 "Hello, Whiskers Café. Jhanvi speaking."

"Good evening," came a polite, professional voice.

 "I'm calling from The LeMont Grand, the five-star hotel near Rosewood Avenue.

 We've heard wonderful things about your baked goods—especially your tiramisu cupcakes and artisanal loaves."

Jhanvi blinked, surprised. "Oh! Thank you, that's really kind of you."

"We're organizing a week-long gourmet food event," the caller continued, 

"and we'd love to feature your café as one of our exclusive bakery partners. We're looking for daily supplies—croissants, muffins, and dessert platters for high tea service. If you're interested, we'd like to set up a tasting tomorrow."

Jhanvi's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened as she mouthed Reeva! toward the kitchen.Reeva stepped out, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, we'd be honored," Jhanvi replied professionally, though excitement was bubbling in her tone.

 "What time would be convenient for the tasting?"

" Our executive chef and the hotel's owner will be present at the tasting. They'll both be reviewing the selections. Would 11 AM tomorrow work?"

"Perfect."

As soon as she hung up, she turned to Reeva, eyes gleaming. 

"You will not believe this! The LeMont Grand wants us to be one of their dessert suppliers for a gourmet week!"

Reeva blinked, her mouth falling open.

 "Wait—what?! That's... that's huge, Jhanvi! We're not even that big yet!"

"But we're good. And they noticed."

The two women looked around their little haven—Whiskers—walls filled with pastel charm, handwritten menu boards, and the sweet scent of butter and dreams in the air.

Reeva grinned. "Let's bake like our lives depend on it."

Jhanvi nodded, heart racing. "Tomorrow... Whiskers goes five-star."

Just as they turned toward the kitchen to prepare, the little bell above the café door jingled softly.

Another customer?

Jhanvi glanced up briefly, then turned back to the clipboard in her hands.

 "Reeva, we'll need a double batch of the strawberry truffle and red velvet mini jars."

"Already on it, boss," Reeva replied cheerfully, slipping into the kitchen.

At the entrance, a man in a sharp black coat walked in — tall, impeccably dressed, sunglasses still perched on his nose despite the fading light. 

He walked with quiet confidence, like someone who didn't need to demand attention to get it.

He chose the farthest corner table. No one gave him a second glance.

His gaze swept across the café — the warm yellow lights, the pastel walls, the delicate pastries in glass displays

— until it landed on her behind the counter.

Jhanvi.

She was laughing about something Reeva shouted from the kitchen, scribbling down notes, unaware.

The man tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes. 

He leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping slowly on the wooden table — tap... tap... tap...

A waitress walked over, smiling. "Good evening, sir. Can I get you something?"

He didn't take his eyes off the counter. "Black coffee. No sugar."

She nodded. "Coming right up."

He smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

He looked around once more, then back at Jhanvi — his jaw tightening.

"Found you," he whispered under his breath, just loud enough for no one to hear.

Outside, a gust of wind made the wind chimes jingle softly.

But inside Whiskers, everything felt just as warm, just as ordinary.

Too ordinary.

And sometimes... that's when danger settles in best.

Next Morning

Jhanvi arrived early at Whiskers, her steps slightly hurried, her heart pacing even faster.

The café was still quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of morning. She walked around, checking the counters, the cake displays, the fresh flowers on each table.

 Everything had to be perfect today.

But no matter how many times she double-checked, a nervous flutter remained in her chest.Time was ticking.

She paused behind the counter, placing both hands on the surface as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 Calm down, Jhanvi... just breathe.

And then — like it had become a habit — his face flashed before her closed lids.

Aryan.

His eyes, soft yet unreadable. That quiet pain hidden behind a silent stare.

 That moment he held her gaze — it felt like the noise in her head had dulled.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Why does his face feel like calmness?

Why do I keep thinking about him... after just that one day?

Before her thoughts could drift deeper, her phone rang, breaking the silence.

She blinked and picked it up quickly. "Hello?"

"Jhanvi!" came Reeva's voice, slightly breathless. 

"Sorry! I'll be a little late. Falak's not feeling too great — I think it's just the weather, nothing major, but I'm taking her to the clinic just to be safe."

"Oh God, is she okay?" Jhanvi asked, immediately alert.

"Yeah, yeah, nothing serious. But just in case. You go ahead with the meeting. I'll try to make it before lunch."

Jhanvi nodded. "Got it. Don't worry about here, I'll manage. Just take care of Falak, okay?"

"Love you! Good luck, Jhanu!"

As the call ended, Jhanvi tucked the phone into her pocket and exhaled slowly.

This was it.

The executive chef and the owner of LeMont Grand — the five-star hotel — would be arriving in just an hour to taste and finalize their collaboration.

She wiped her palms against her apron. 

"Alright, Jhanu. You've handled worse. You've survived worse. You can do this," she murmured to herself, tying her hair up tightly.

And then, with one last deep breath, she stepped back into the kitchen to prepare for the most important order of her café's journey so far.

Little did she know... someone else had marked this morning too.

Someone whose eyes had already set on Whiskers.

And on her.