C38 Old House Café

Aisha stretched lazily on the bed, still wrapped inside the blanket like a sleepy cocoon.

Arjun had just finished talking about his family, and now she was staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.

“Your family sounds nice,” she murmured.

Then she yawned.

“My family…” she began slowly.

“…is very different.”

Arjun leaned back in his chair, listening.

“My father runs multiple businesses,” she said casually.

“Real estate, transport, investments… a lot of things honestly.”

He nodded quietly.

“And my mom is a fashion designer.”

“Designer?” he asked.

“For high-profile clients,” she replied.

“Politicians’ wives, rich socialites, celebrities sometimes.”

Arjun raised his eyebrows slightly.

“I basically grew up surrounded by bright lights, expensive parties, and people who always looked perfect,” she continued.

“Sounds glamorous.”

She smiled faintly.

“It looks glamorous from outside.”

Then she turned her head toward him.

“But it’s also very lonely.”

Arjun stayed silent.

“I had everything growing up,” she said.

“Money. Clothes. Big house. Cars.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“But somehow it always felt like I had nothing.”

He understood that feeling more than she expected.

“And my brother…” she continued.

“He was the cutest kid when he was little.”

A small smile appeared on her face.

“He used to follow me everywhere.”

Then she chuckled softly.

“But the moment he became a teenager…”

“He turned into a grumpy little monster.”

Arjun laughed quietly.

“Always annoyed,” she continued.

“Always acting like everyone is bothering him.”

“So you two fight a lot?”

“We don’t even fight,” she said.

“We just… drifted apart.”

She looked at the window.

“But from afar…”

Her voice softened.

“I still love him the most.”

Arjun noticed the sincerity in her tone.

Before he could respond, she slowly slid deeper into her blanket.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Family storytelling session over.”

He watched as she tucked herself in again.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

Arjun blinked.

“What?”

She was already pulling the blanket over her head.

Before she could disappear completely, he grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it away.

“Hey.”

She groaned dramatically.

“Wake up.”

Her sleepy eyes glared at him.

“Why?”

Without answering immediately, Arjun grabbed one of the notes from the table and showed it to her.

She squinted at it.

“Sleeping too much can increase depression symptoms,” he read aloud.

Aisha stared at the paper.

Then slowly turned her head toward him.

And side-eyed him.

“…seriously?”

He nodded.

She sighed deeply.

“Arjun.”

“Yes.”

“Let me sleep.”

He hesitated.

“It’s the only time I get to sleep during the week.”

The tired honesty in her voice made him pause.

After a moment he reluctantly released the blanket.

“Fine.”

She smiled slightly.

“One more hour,” he said.

She nodded.

“Deal.”

Within seconds she had curled back under the blanket.

And drifted off again.

Arjun returned to the study table.

Time passed quietly.

Papers shuffled.

Coffee brewed.

The room filled with afternoon sunlight.

One hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Eventually it had been five hours.

Arjun was now sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hands, reading through something on his laptop.

Behind him, the blanket shifted.

Aisha slowly sat up.

Her hair looked even more chaotic now.

She blinked at the room.

Then at him.

“I think I have déjà vu,” she said.

Arjun looked up.

“What?”

She gestured around lazily.

“This whole scene feels familiar.”

He chuckled softly.

Then walked over and lightly tapped her forehead with his index finger.

“Wake up already, you sleepy owl.”

She groaned.

“The day’s almost over.”

Reluctantly she got out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later she emerged again.

Freshened up.

Hair tied in a simple bun.

Oversized sweater and jeans.

She looked much more alive now.

“We’re going out to eat,” she announced.

Arjun nodded.

“Alright.”

He picked up his jeep keys.

Aisha immediately stopped him.

“Leave those.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“We’re walking.”

“How far?”

“Two minutes.”

He looked surprised.

“Come on,” she said.

They locked the apartment and stepped outside into the cool mountain air.

The small town streets were quiet, the evening breeze carrying the smell of wood smoke and food.

After a short walk they stopped in front of a cozy little house.

A wooden sign hung outside.

Old House Café

Aisha walked in casually like she owned the place.

Arjun followed behind, though his posture remained alert and cautious.

His eyes scanned the surroundings automatically.

As soon as she stepped inside, Aisha called out.

“Jhimil!”

No response.

“Jhimil!”

Suddenly a small girl came running from inside the house.

About eleven years old.

Bright eyes.

Messy braids.

“Doctor didi!”

She ran straight into Aisha’s arms.

Aisha hugged her back warmly.

“Where’s your mom?” Aisha asked.

“She’s in the backyard talking to the aunties,” the girl said excitedly.

Aisha smiled.

“Tell her I’m here and I want my regular.”

Then she turned toward Arjun.

“What will you eat?”

Arjun was already staring at the Tibetan food menu painted on the wall.

He looked slightly overwhelmed.

“I… don’t know.”

She sighed.

“Just order something for me,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow.

In panic he added,

“I’ll eat whatever you’re eating.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded confidently.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

She turned back to the girl.

“Jhimil, tell your mom two sets of my regular.”

“Okay!”

The girl ran inside happily.

They sat at the small wooden table waiting.

Twenty minutes later a woman walked in carrying two large bowls.

She looked Tibetan.

Round face.

Flushed red cheeks.

Soft smile.

Her appearance reminded Arjun strangely of a delicate porcelain doll.

She placed the bowls in front of them and chuckled softly while looking at Arjun.

That chuckle made him slightly nervous.

He glanced at Aisha for reassurance.

But she was already busy attacking her noodles.

Steam rose from the bowl.

She grabbed the chili oil jar and poured a generous amount into her thukpa.

Arjun watched in shock.

That’s a lot of chili oil.

He assumed the noodles must be bland.

So he cautiously took a bite of the plain broth first.

Instant regret.

The noodles were already spicy.

His eyes widened slightly.

He quickly grabbed a glass of water.

Across the table Aisha froze mid-bite.

She stared at him.

“Are you serious?” she said.

He blinked.

“You can’t even handle this small amount of spice?”

She looked genuinely shocked.

“Are you even Indian?”

Arjun wiped his mouth.

“I don’t like spicy food.”

He crossed his arms slightly.

“Is there a problem with that?”

She waved her hand casually.

“Oh no, officer.”

Then she went back to happily devouring her noodles.