They were sitting in a corner booth at the café—Khushi and Vivaan—face-to-face, but not really together. Ten minutes had passed. Ten long, heavy minutes. The café buzzed with distant laughter, the clinking of cups, and casual conversations. But between them, there was only silence. Awkward. Suffocating. Loud in its own way.
Vivaan sat with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the table. His jaw clenched, lips drawn into a hard line. Not once had he looked at her.
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