6

I was getting ready for the office, but I could not stop thinking about Chandni since last night. Her crying, being scared of me, and, most importantly, being burned because of me—I just can't stop myself. What is happening to me? Why am I concerned about her and her well-being?

I arrived at my office quickly and called Rahul once I was settled in my cabin. "Yes, Rudra, you called me?" He asked as he entered the cabin and stood in front of me, and when I looked at him coldly and said nothing, the realisation hit him.

"Uhh, I am sorry." He cleared his throat. "... about yesterday. It was yours and your sister's matter. I should not have intervened between you two." I understand he is my best friend, but there are some things he should keep his big mouth shut.

"It is fine, Rahul. I wanted to know about the preparation for the gala. How is everything going? I do not want anything to go wrong at my event." I asked him, and he said everything was fine and going as planned. I nodded my head and dismissed him, satisfied with his response.

I started working, but I could not seem to concentrate on anything. I could not stop thinking about her, which was annoying because I did not want to think about her. Whatever happens to her is not my concern. And I am still not sure why I feel the need to know if she is okay. I shouldn't worry about her; she slapped me.

But here I am, standing in line for coffee in the same café. Why am I waiting in line? And not on a seat because she is behind the counter taking orders, and I want to talk to her.

It is my turn to place an order. "Good morning, and welcome to our cafe. What would you like to order?" she asked, not looking up.

"An unsweetened iced black coffee and a chicken sandwich."

I was getting ready to go to work. I don't need to work because my brother earns enough for us. But I do it because it keeps me busy, and keeps me from overthinking things that should not bother me.

I received a call from my best friend, accepted the call, and heard Rohit say, "Hello, birdie! Good morning!" I laughed at his greeting and wished them both a good morning.

Barkha asked me about my plans for today, and I told her I had work today. I was trying to put on my top when my hand got caught in the sleeves. My friends stopped bickering and panicked as I let out a cry.

"What happened, Nini? What was that? Tell me." Barkha spoke quickly.

"Nothing happened, you guys; nothing happened. There is no need to panic," I said calmly, trying but failing to control my voice.

"Okay, don't tell me. I am coming right now, and I will see for myself. if anything happens or not." Rohit said, and a rustling sound came from his side.

"I got burned at work yesterday; I accidentally spilt hot coffee on my hand," I said quietly, and there was silence for a few seconds; no one said anything.

Barkha started screaming at me about being careless and not taking care of myself, and Rohit was doing his best to calm her down. With that, I hung up the phone, got ready, and left for work.

I work in a cafe where you can either order at the counter or sit and wait for someone to come get your order. Everyone here takes turns doing counterduty or taking orders from those who are already sitting. I was taking orders yesterday, and today I will be at the counter.

I arrived at the cafe, put on my apron with my name on it, and took a seat at the counter. Today is a busy day, and the entire cafe is crowded with students and others. As the next person in line came forward to order, I greeted them as usual and asked for their order.

"An unsweetened iced black coffee and a chicken sandwich."

Now I can recognize this moron's voice from anywhere. I looked up into his eyes; my smile faded as I saw his face, and without saying anything, I took his order and said, "Your order will be ready in 10 minutes; in the meantime, please take a seat and wait. Thank you, sir."

I looked down at the counter. I looked up when I did not hear any movement and saw him staring at me as if he wanted to say something. His light brown eyes, on the other hand, appear to be empty. I am not sure why I feel bad looking into them.

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" I questioned him. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it and walked away.

I was in the middle of taking another order when one of my coworkers approached me with someone's order and told me to serve them.

"It is not my turn to serve today."

"I know, but that man over there said you would be the one to serve him. Otherwise, he will call our boss and tell him to fire us. He is well-known and capable of doing so, and I do not want to be unemployed. So, please go." she said, handing me the tray and taking my place.

I went to his table and placed his order on it. As I turned to leave, I felt a tug on my left hand and hissed in pain. I looked at his face, and he was staring at my hand, which I hid behind my back.

"You want anything else, sir?" I asked him.

"Your hand," he said, looking at it again. That irritated me because he was the one who spilt hot coffee and then pretended as if nothing had happened and that it was my fault.

Now he had the audacity to appear guilty, a bloody moron. "It is none of your concern, sir."

He looked into my eyes, which were now staring at me very dangerously, and I gulped, looking down. Is he bipolar or something? He was looking at me like he was sorry for what he did, and now he is angry.

He stood up. "You do not speak to me like that, especially in that tone, darling."

His calling me darling irritated me even more. "Oh, what are you going to do about it? Call my manager and tell him to fire me. Okay, go ahead and call him!" I said it loudly enough for everyone in the cafe to hear.

We were glaring at each other, and I heard footsteps. "What happened, Chandini?" my manager, Mr. Kumar, asked, and I looked at him.

My manager is an elderly gentleman, who adores me but does not tolerate complaints about anything. I said nothing to him.

"There is nothing to worry about," said the moron behind me.

Mr. Kumar's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped like a fish as he looked at the man behind me. I looked at Mr. Kumar strangely.

"Sir, Mr. Rud—" he was cut off by this haughty man.

"No need for that; everything is fine. Nothing happened here." He did not let Mr. Kumar finish his full name; instead, he interrupted him. But, why? Can this man get any ruder?

I ignored him and returned to my duties, and the rest of the day passed just like that. It was the end of the day, and the weather was pleasant. So I decided to take a walk home. Barkha usually comes and picks me up. But I told her not to today.

I left the cafe and began walking towards my house, but it appeared that someone was following me. When I turned around to look, the car came to a complete stop.

The same man got out of the car and started walking towards me. I looked around to see what was going on and why he was walking towards me with that icy-cold look on his face. "I want to talk to you," he said coldly like I could see the ice coming out of his mouth.

"Well, I don't," I said as I resumed my walk.

"No stop! I said I wanted to talk to you. Stop!" he said, grabbing my injured hand. I stopped, hissed in pain because of his tight grip, and turned to look at him.

"Leave my hand now! Didn't I tell you not to touch me? Why would I stop and talk to someone who throws coffee at people and drags children with them? So I don't want to talk." I said, and he let go of my hand.

I began walking and then heard footsteps; he was walking alongside me. He walked with me almost to my house, his car trailing behind us. I got frustrated and stopped to look at him.

"What do you want, and who do you believe you are?"

He gave me a hard stare. I think this man is insane. He wanted to talk, and now that I am ready, he is glaring at me.

"Talk," I said, crossing my arms and waiting for him to say something, but he didn't, not even opening his mouth.

"See, I do not know about you, but I am tired and want to go home and sleep." I began walking, and this time he did not stop me; instead, his car sped away.

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