Jasmine

The cafe buzzed with its weekend vibe. The clink of cups against saucers and the soft hum of conversation filled the air. The smell of freshly ground coffee mingled with the aroma of jasmine that clung to her scarf.  A candle flickered between them, its small flame steady, casting warm light over the polished wood of their table. Outside, the rain fell gently, faint streaks catching the city lights as they blurred into hazy colours.

He sat across from her, fingers curled around a mug of green tea, its steam curling lazily in the air. She had her usual espresso, sipping it slowly, the faintest smile playing on her lips.

“Do you always have to drink that hot water?” she teased, her tone light.

“You mean something healthy and calming?” he quipped. “Absolutely. And do you always have to order something that makes you jittery for hours?”

“Don’t mock the espresso,” she said with mock indignation. “It’s the drink of champions.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. It was a moment so ordinary and familiar, yet it seemed wrapped in cotton wool. Their rhythm was effortless, like a melody played countless times, always in sync, never tiring.

“I was thinking about that time we went to the coast,” he said suddenly, his smile softening into something more thoughtful.

She grinned, her eyes lighting up. “The cabin with the broken heater?”

“Exactly. You were convinced we’d freeze to death.”

“Well, I wasn’t wrong. You remember how we layered every single blanket we could find? I looked like a burrito.”

“A very dramatic burrito,” he corrected, smirking. “But you still made me go outside at midnight to look at the stars. You said it would be ‘worth it,’ even though it was freezing.”

Her grin faltered slightly, a flicker of something wistful crossing her face. “It was worth it,” she said softly. “That sky… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it since.”

He leaned back, his gaze lingering on her as she absently stirred her espresso, though it needed no stirring. “You always had this way of finding the magic in things,” he said.

“And you had this way of making me believe it was real,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Their conversation flowed easily, the moments and memories tumbling out like old treasures uncovered by accident. They laughed about the time they got lost on a hike and ended up at a farmer’s market instead. They spoke of summers spent chasing sunsets and winter evenings spent indoors, arguing over movies neither of them really liked or wanted to watch. 

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked suddenly, catching him off guard.

“Miss what?”

“All of it. The… simplicity of it.”

He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to read something in her expression. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Don’t you?”

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her cup. “Sometimes,” she echoed, her voice carrying the fragrance of something unspoken.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind where words seemed unnecessary. Outside, the rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the world beyond the glass pane, soft and blurred.

Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking their silence. She glanced at it, her expression shifting, albeit subtly. A small crease appeared between her brows, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s my husband,” she said, her tone casual but carefully controlled. “He’s waiting for me at the theatre. We’re seeing that new movie—he’s been excited about it for days now.”

The words floated in the air, and for a moment, the candlelight between them seemed to flicker.

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “You should go,” he said, his voice steady. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

She stood, draping her scarf over her shoulders, her movements deliberate. “It was really nice catching up, bumping into you here out of the blue,” she said, her gaze lingering on him for just a moment too long.

“It was,” he replied, managing a small smile.

As she walked to the door, he watched her go, the faint sound of the bell above the entrance announcing her exit. She disappeared into the glow of the streetlights and the drizzle, leaving behind only the faint scent of jasmine in the air.

He stayed for a while longer, staring at the half-finished mug of green tea before him. The warmth of the cafe now felt distant, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, soft and steady, blurring the edges of the world. Just like the memories of a love he had once thought would last forever.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2025. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used