Jitin ordered a crisp blonde. Mishti chose a dark stout. And over their clinking glasses of beer, they went on talking. ..

Mishti was stuck at home, with a bad cold and fever. The sudden change in temperature had completely outsmarted her. And playing in the early London snow had proved to be a huge mistake. But she had forgotten that she had Kabir, who had already purchased a bunch of medicines, ready-to-eat meals and made his own special chicken soup recipe for her...

Trying to match Mishti's craving for dangerously spicy pani puri, Jitin took a bite—and instantly regretted it. As tears welled in his eyes, she handed him a sweet panipuri. "You need balance," she murmured. He looked up, grinning through the heat. "Or maybe I just need you?"

Mishti stopped to buy flowers for her sister. The florist smiled. “The person behind you already paid.” She turned around. It was Kabir—the boy she swore she'd never speak to again 🙄 He gave her that infuriating half-smile. “You're welcome.” Mishti sighed. Of all the people in London... why him?

Mishti ordered one scoop of vanilla. Jitin ordered one scoop of wild berries. The ice cream shop was out of both, so they shared the last scoop of chocolate...and discovered they meant more to each other than they ever admitted.

Mishti’s computer died, taking her entire thesis with it. Jitin, her best friend who was making coffee in the kitchen, slid a latte across the counter. Written on the paper cup was a string of Python code. "Type that in," Jitin said. "It forces a cache recovery." Mishti typed frantically. Her data blinked back to life. "Are you a wizard?" she gasped. "Just a guy who hates tears," Jitin smiled. "Now you owe me a coffee away from the kitchen." Mishti closed her computer. "Lets

“You forgot our date,” Mishti said. “I forgot the dinner reservation. I could never forget to meet you,” Kabir smiled. So they wandered around London, sharing paper-wrapped street food beneath strings of lights. When fireworks scattered across the night, he reached for her hand. “Better than the fancy restaurant?” Kabir sighed. “Much better," Mishti sighed back.

Kabir asked, "When was the last time you talked about pastries without smiling?" Mishti opened her mouth to answer. She couldn't...

Mishti and Jitin had met for Fish and Chips, just as they did every weekend whenever they were together in London. “Try the mushy peas,” Jitin said, pushing the tray slightly toward her. Mishti ignored it for a second, busy pulling apart the fish, and watching the steam escape. “You always rush to the sides,” she pouted once the fish looked good enough to bite into. “I’m not rushing,” Jitin rolled his eyes. " I thought the peas look good. So I thought we could eat

Mishti and Kabir didnt know what to do. They ordered red wine, and tried to initiate small talk. When the wine arrived though, Kabir's hand hit the glass accidentally. A sweeping wave of Merlot escaped his glass, crashing across Mishti's white dress in a violent, blooming shape...