Ria Malhotra Part 1: Monsoon Mornings The rain had arrived early in Mumbai this year. Not the aggressive, stormy kind, but a soft drizzle that hung like a veil between the living and the past. The street outside “Chapter & Chai” glistened under the dull gold of the morning light, and the faint aroma of wet earth seeped through the bookstore’s open windows. Ananya adjusted the handwritten sign near the entrance: Today’s Brew: Masala Chai & Murakami Underneath it, she scribbled in smaller letters: Umbrellas welcome. So are old friends. It wasn’t just marketing—it was habit. Ever since her daughter,…
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Tania Mattu Part 1: The DM That Didn’t Send Aarav Kapoor stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, his thumb hovering above the send button. The message read: “Hey, you seemed really cool at the open mic. Want to grab coffee sometime?” But he didn’t press send. Instead, he backspaced all the way to blank and tossed his phone onto the bed. He exhaled loudly. “What am I doing?” He had met Zoya exactly three nights ago at a chaotic open mic night in Bandra. She wasn’t performing; she was in the corner, sketching people with a black ink…
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Aarya Malik The Message The rain hadn’t stopped since dusk. It fell like memory—persistent, soft, and impossible to ignore. Marine Drive, usually buzzing with honking taxis and lovers escaping deadlines, lay blurred under a monsoon haze. The Arabian Sea raged in the distance, waves crashing against stone with the kind of wild certainty Aarav had never known in his own heart. He stood alone near the last curve of the promenade, where the streetlamp flickered every few seconds. His phone vibrated once. It wasn’t her. He stared at the message he had already sent. Come to Marine Drive. Now. Please.…