C39 Spice and Silence

Arjun wiped his mouth after taking another careful sip of water.

Across the table, Aisha was still staring at him like he had just committed a crime.

“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that you’re an Indian man who can’t handle spice?”

Arjun sighed.

“I never said I can’t handle it.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You literally almost died two seconds ago.”

He glared at her.

“I just don’t like overly spicy food.”

Aisha shook her head in disbelief and returned to her thukpa, adding another spoon of chili oil like it was completely normal.

Arjun watched in horror.

“Are you trying to burn your stomach?”

She slurped her noodles casually.

“It builds character.”

He muttered under his breath.

“It builds hospital bills.”

She snorted.

For a few minutes the only sounds between them were noodles being slurped and the faint clinking of bowls.

The café itself felt warm and alive.

The wooden walls carried the smell of broth, spices, and butter tea.

Outside the small windows, the evening sky had already begun to turn deep orange.

Arjun glanced around.

It was a small place.

Simple wooden tables.

Colorful prayer flags hanging in the corner.

A small heater humming quietly.

Nothing fancy.

But it felt comfortable.

Meanwhile Aisha was halfway through her bowl already.

Arjun cautiously picked up another bite.

This time he braced himself.

Still spicy.

But manageable.

Barely.

Across the table Aisha watched him struggle.

“You look like you’re preparing for battle.”

He pointed his chopsticks at her.

“Because I am.”

She laughed.

“Relax. It’s just food.”

He muttered again.

“This food is trying to assassinate me.”

She almost choked on her noodles laughing.

Just then the Tibetan lady returned with two glasses of warm butter tea.

She placed them on the table with a kind smile.

Aisha looked up immediately.

“Ama-la, it’s perfect as always.”

The woman chuckled softly and patted Aisha’s shoulder before walking back inside.

Arjun noticed the familiarity.

“You come here a lot.”

“Almost every week,” Aisha said while blowing on her noodles.

“Sometimes after hospital shifts.”

He looked slightly surprised.

“Why here?”

She shrugged.

“It’s quiet.”

Then she nodded toward the backyard.

“And they treat me like family.”

Arjun glanced toward the kitchen door where Jhimil had disappeared earlier.

Something about the scene felt… peaceful.

Very different from the tense energy Aisha usually carried.

“You look different here,” he said suddenly.

Aisha stopped eating.

“What does that mean?”

“You seem relaxed.”

She blinked once.

Then she shrugged.

“Maybe.”

They went quiet again.

Outside, the street lights slowly flickered on.

After finishing half his bowl Arjun finally leaned back.

“That was good.”

Aisha looked impressed.

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

She smirked.

“I’m proud of you.”

He rolled his eyes.

Just then Jhimil came running back to their table.

“Doctor didi!”

Aisha immediately smiled.

“Yes?”

“Mom said you forgot to take the momos last time!”

Aisha slapped her forehead.

“Oh right!”

Arjun looked confused.

“What momos?”

Before Aisha could answer, the little girl looked at him with big curious eyes.

“Who is he?”

Aisha paused.

Then casually said,

“He’s… a friend.”

Arjun nearly choked on his tea.

Jhimil tilted her head.

“You don’t bring friends here.”

Aisha narrowed her eyes slightly.

“You talk too much for an eleven-year-old.”

The girl giggled.

Arjun noticed the faint blush creeping up Aisha’s ears.

Interesting.

Jhimil leaned closer to Arjun.

“Doctor didi only comes here when she’s sad.”

Aisha froze.

“Jhimil!”

But the girl had already said it.

Arjun slowly looked at Aisha.

For the first time that evening, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Before the moment could become awkward, Jhimil ran off again.

Silence settled between them.

Aisha picked up her chopsticks again like nothing happened.

But Arjun had already noticed the shift.

He didn’t ask anything.

Not yet.

Instead he finished the last of his noodles quietly.

Outside the café, the night had fully arrived.

And somewhere in the quiet mountain air, something between them had changed slightly—almost too small to notice.

But not small enough to ignore. ✨