The air outside was crisp, the first signs of winter settling into the city. The café was tucked away in a quieter part of town, one of those places where time slowed down and conversations lingered over cups of coffee.

Shreya arrived a few minutes early. The place was warm, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked croissants and roasted beans. A couple of students sat near the window, their heads buried in books, while an elderly couple shared a quiet meal in the corner. It was a space that felt lived in, familiar, safe.

She inhaled deeply, her fingers tightening around her bag strap. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

A marriage meeting. With Abhimanyu Mehta.

She had heard of him for years—Kabir’s older brother, the prodigy, the surgeon whose name carried weight in every medical journal. A man so dedicated to his work that everything else—love, relationships, emotions—had faded into the background.

And yet, here they were.

The bell above the café door chimed.

She knew it was him before even turning around.

There was a presence about him, a stillness that commanded attention without trying. He was taller than she remembered, broad-shouldered and effortlessly poised. Dressed in a simple black sweater and dark jeans, there was nothing about him that screamed "renowned surgeon"—no arrogance, no unnecessary display of power.

Yet, it was in his demeanor. The way he walked, the way his eyes scanned the room with quiet precision.

“Shreya.” His voice was deep, even, lacking the usual hesitation of a first meeting.

She stood, managing a small nod. “Abhimanyu.”

He gestured toward the seat across from her before settling in. A waitress approached, placing a menu in front of him. He didn’t open it. “An Americano, please. No sugar.”

Shreya bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly aware of the stark contrast between them. She was still figuring out what to say, and he had already decided what to drink.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” she said after a moment.

His lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew you’d come. You’re not someone who ignores family responsibilities.”

Shreya looked away, exhaling softly. “So, they’ve told you everything?”

“That your mother is sick, your father wants you married before she… before things worsen?” He met her gaze, unreadable. “Yes.”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed.

He leaned back slightly, fingers tapping once against the table before stilling. “And I know why you’re here.”

Shreya raised an eyebrow.

Abhimanyu’s voice remained calm, steady. “You’re here to reject me.”

A slow silence stretched between them.

Shreya opened her mouth to deny it, but the words never came. Because he was right.

She had come here prepared with polite words—You’re a wonderful person, but… This isn’t right for either of us… I can’t do this.

But sitting here, across from him, she realized something.

He wasn’t looking at her with expectation or hope. There was no awkward small talk, no forced attempts at making an impression.

Instead, there was understanding.

“You don’t want this either,” she murmured.

Abhimanyu’s jaw tightened slightly before he nodded. “No.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Then why are we here?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Because our parents don’t care whether we ‘want’ it or not.”

A waiter arrived with their drinks, placing the Americano in front of him and a cappuccino for her. The moment passed in quietness, the clinking of cups the only sound between them.

Abhimanyu picked up his coffee, taking a slow sip before speaking again. “I know about you and Kabir.”

Shreya stiffened.

He sighed, setting his cup down. “Look, I’m not here to judge you, nor am I here to take something that was never meant to be mine. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be sitting here either.”

Her fingers tightened around her cup. “Then why did you agree?”

Abhimanyu exhaled, tilting his head slightly as if considering how much to say. “Because my parents have been asking me to ‘settle down’ for years now. Because I’ve ignored it for as long as I could. And because for the first time, it’s not just about their expectations. It’s about your family too.”

Shreya swallowed, staring at him.

He looked away, flexing his fingers slightly before folding them together. “I don’t do things halfway, Shreya. If I say no, I say it clearly. But I also don’t walk away from people who need me. Your father is my father’s best friend. Your mother is…” He paused, as if weighing his words. “I know what she’s going through. And if my presence can give her peace, then saying no isn’t as easy as it should be.”

There was something in the way he said it—not dramatic, not seeking pity, just a plain statement of fact.

Shreya looked down at her cup, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “So… what now?”

Abhimanyu leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Now, we do what’s expected of us.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “You mean—”

His voice was quiet, but firm. “We act. We give them what they need to see. And when the time comes, we walk away.”

A lump formed in her throat. “You really think it’ll be that simple?”

His lips curled slightly, something resembling amusement flickering across his face. “Nothing about this is simple. But you’re a smart woman, and I… I’m not of such low character that I’d marry a girl who loves my younger brother to the moon and back.”

Shreya felt something in her chest loosen—a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

For the first time since this entire conversation began, she let out a small breath of laughter. “You’re very practical, Dr. Mehta.”

Abhimanyu smirked. “I take that as a compliment.”

She shook her head, sipping her coffee. “It wasn’t.”

His smirk deepened. “Too late.”

The air between them shifted. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t familiar, but it wasn’t cold either. It was two strangers finding a middle ground in a situation neither of them had asked for.

And for now, that was enough.