Chapter One — Coffee in the Rain

The first time Meera Joshi met Aarav Mehta, she ruined his white shirt.

Two years later, she would remember that moment and wonder if the monsoon had been trying to warn them.

But on that Thursday evening, Meera only wanted a cab.

Rain crashed over Indiranagar without warning. One minute the road was dry. The next, water ran along the footpath and every cab on her app became either unavailable or ridiculously expensive.

Meera stood under the small roof outside Bhoomi Coffee Roasters with a laptop bag on one shoulder, a thick black sketchbook under her arm, and a fresh filter coffee in her hand.

She looked at her phone.

Surge pricing: 2.4x. Cab arriving in 22 minutes.

“Wonderful,” she muttered. “Perfect. Thank you, Bengaluru.”

She looked towards the auto stand.

That was her mistake.

At the same moment, a man walked towards her from the other side. He had his phone trapped between his ear and shoulder.

“Amma, I said I’ll call you after—no, Amma, listen—”

Meera stepped right.

He stepped left.

They collided.

The cup jumped out of her hand.

Coffee flew through the air.

And landed directly on his white office shirt.

For one second, both of them froze.