The auto rickshaw horns faded into the evening traffic
as Aisha stepped out of the bus,
adjusting her dupatta and shifting her bag on her shoulder.
The city felt heavier than usual that day,
maybe it was the long visit home,
or maybe it was the quiet ache she carried back with her.
She opened her phone and booked a Rapido. “5 minutes away.”
Standing near the roadside,
She mentally checked her list, charger, groceries, and toiletries.
“Wait… I forgot a few things,” she muttered.
The bike pulled up. “Rapido?” the rider asked.
“Yes,” she said, then quickly added, “Bhaiya,
can you stop near a shop on the way?”
He nodded.
They rode through the noisy streets, wind brushing against her face,
the city lights flickering alive.
Soon, they stopped near a small general store glowing under a single tube light.
“I’ll be back in two minutes,” she said, stepping down.
Inside, she grabbed what she needed,
her mind half on the list, half lost somewhere else.
Her phone buzzed, her friend calling.
“Hello? Yeah, I just reached… no no, on the way to my apartment,” she said,
walking out, still talking.
Without looking properly, she walked toward a bike parked just ahead,
sat down, and casually said, “Bhaiya, let’s go.”
The engine started.
She continued her conversation, laughing now.
“You know this city never changes…”
The ride felt… smoother. Quieter. Almost… familiar.
But she didn’t think much of it.
After a few minutes, the bike slowed down.
“We’re here.”
She hung up the call and looked up.
Her apartment.
She blinked.
“That was fast,” she murmured, then turned slightly, her words froze.
This… wasn’t the same rider.
Her breath caught.
Before she could speak, she heard another voice from behind.
“Madam! Madam!”
She turned.
The original Rapido rider was rushing toward her, slightly out of breath.
“You sat on the wrong bike! I was calling you!”
Her heart skipped.
She turned back slowly toward the man on the bike.
He had already taken off his helmet.
And for a moment, the world stilled.
It was him.
The same man she had seen countless times before,
passing glimpses in cafés, quiet corners of bookstores, across streets.
The man whose presence always felt strangely comforting, yet distant.
Someone she never knew… but always noticed.
Her voice trembled slightly. “You…”
He smiled. Not surprised. Not confused. Just… calm.
“You finally noticed,” he said softly.
Aisha’s mind raced. “How do you… how do you know my house? And why”
“I’ve always known,” he interrupted gently.
The Rapido rider looked confused.
“Madam… do you know him?”
She didn’t answer.
Because in that moment,
something inside her was connecting dots she didn’t even know existed.
The man stepped off the bike.
“I never followed you,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“But somehow, life kept placing me where you were.”
Her heartbeat echoed louder than the traffic.
“I’ve seen you rushing to work… sitting alone at cafés…
laughing on calls… crying once, outside that bookstore.”
Her eyes widened.
“You noticed all that?”
“I noticed everything,” he said quietly.
There was no obsession in his voice.
No intensity that scared her.
Just something steady… something real.
“Why didn’t you ever talk to me?” she asked.
He smiled faintly. “Because some people… you don’t approach.
You wait until life introduces you properly.”
Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward.
It felt like something that had been waiting… finally arrived.
The Rapido rider awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Madam… ride cancel karu?”
Aisha let out a small, breathless laugh, her eyes still on him.
“Yes,” she said softly.
The rider left.
Now it was just the two of them, standing under the dim apartment lights.
“I thought you were just… a stranger I kept noticing,” she admitted.
He shook his head.
“And I thought you were someone I was meant to meet… when the time was right.”
A small smile slowly formed on her lips.
“And today?” she asked.
“Today,” he said, stepping back slightly,
“you chose the wrong bike… and the right moment.”
She laughed softly, something lighter settling in her chest.
“What if I hadn’t made that mistake?”
He looked at her, eyes calm, certain.
“You would have,” he said.
“Some connections don’t depend on chance. They find their way.”
The night felt different now.
Less lonely.
As she turned to go inside, she paused.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He smiled.
“Arjun.”
She nodded, holding that name like something she had known long ago.
“Aisha,” she said.
“I know,” he replied.
For the first time, she didn’t feel surprised.
Because somewhere, deep inside, it felt like…
He was always there.
She just hadn’t realised it, until now.
