Tara was halfway through her second snooze cycle when her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Groaning, she reached out blindly, her fingers fumbling until they closed around the device. Squinting at the screen, she saw an incoming call from Shubman.

"Shubman." Tara rasped, her voice thick with sleep. "It's—" she cracked an eye open to look at the clock, "—8:47 in the morning. Do you know what that means?"

"That you've probably been awake for all of two minutes." Shubman replied, his voice warm with amusement.

She yawned, burrowing deeper under the covers. "Exactly. So unless this is life or death, I'm hanging up."

"Wait." he said quickly, his tone shifting, a note of hesitation sneaking in. "Have coffee with me this morning?"

Tara's brow furrowed, the last dregs of sleepiness fading as she sat up slightly. "Coffee? This morning?"

"Yeah. Say around ten?" Shubman offered, trying to sound casual, though she caught the underlying nerves in his voice.

A sly smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back against the headboard, her voice teasing. "Shubman Gill, are you asking me out on a date?"

There was a brief pause before his playful tone came through. "Technically, we've already been on plenty of dates. Even if we didn't call them that back then. But sure, let's call it... a half-date. For now."

"A half-date?" Tara laughed, her confusion mingled with curiosity. "What even is a half-date?"

He grinned, and she could almost hear it in his voice. "It means not a full-blown, sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of date. Not yet, at least. Because the first proper one—this time around—has to be special. But I can't wait that long to see you."

Tara blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. Her mind flashed back to their teenage years — the stolen moments at the swings, whispered conversations under the stars, and the unspoken connection that had always lingered between them. 

Her teasing softened into something more earnest. "Alright, Mr. Gill. A half-date it is. But just so you know... the dates you're talking about were a decade ago." she said, feigning nonchalance. "That doesn't count. Sharing fries and sitting on the swings isn't a date."

Shubman chuckled. "It was for me. You didn't seem to mind it back then, either."

Tara bit her lip, her smirk faltering as his words tugged at her carefully buried feelings. "Well, things are different now. So, is this a date, Shubman?"

"Would it scare you if I said yes?" he asked, his tone light, though his words carried weight.

The question hung in the air, and Tara felt her cheeks flush. "It might surprise me." she admitted, unable to resist teasing him. "I wasn't expecting you to admit it so easily."

"Why not?" Shubman said, his confidence catching her off guard. "I've never backed down from a challenge, Tara. And besides, it's not every day you get a second chance at something that mattered."

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she was 17 again, sitting next to him on the swings, her heart pounding. "Okay." she said, recovering quickly. "But if this is a date, you're paying."

"Deal." Shubman said, his familiar grin evident in his tone. "I'll see you at ten. Same place as always."

When the call ended, Tara stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a mix of nerves and anticipation. A decade might have passed, but in some ways, it felt like nothing had changed. She couldn't quite decide if that terrified her or gave her hope.






























By the time she arrived at the café, the morning sun was casting a warm glow through the windows, bathing the room in light. Shubman was already there, seated in their usual corner, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee.

He stood when he saw her, his smile easy, though his eyes held something deeper.

"Hey." Tara said as she slid into the chair across from him.

"Hey." Shubman replied, his tone soft. "Still as charmingly late as ever, I see."

Tara rolled her eyes. "It's called fashionably late, thank you very much."

The server appeared, already carrying her usual iced latte. She accepted it with a grateful smile, turning to Shubman as she tried to hide the familiar effect he had on her.

"Didn't know you still remembered my coffee order." Tara teased, trying to hide the myriad of emotions coursing through her at his gesture, though her eyes betrayed her, twinkling with gratitude and an unspoken vulnerability.

Shubman was watching her with a quiet intensity that made her feel both flustered and grounded and the both of them knew no matter how much Tara tried, he would always be able to see through her. "I remember everything about you, Tara. How could I not?"

The familiar warmth in his tone sent a pang straight to Tara's heart. She took a moment to compose herself, Shubman's gaze never once straying from her. Once he was satisfied that she was okay, he began softly, leaning forward slightly. "So... thanks for coming."

"Don't thank me yet." she teased, her shaky smile turning playful. "I'm still deciding if it's worth it."

Shubman chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Fair enough. Let me know when you make up your mind."






























The conversation drifted into lighter territory — updates on work, mutual friends, and family. Tara found herself relaxing, the natural ease of their connection slipping back into place like a puzzle piece.

But the undercurrent of something unsaid lingered, tugging at the edges of their conversation. Finally, Tara set her cup down and looked at him, taking a deep breath. "We need to talk about why we're here. About this, Shubman. Us."

His expression shifted, growing serious. "I know. I've been thinking about it a lot since the reunion."

"And?" Tara prompted, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

"And I think we owe it to ourselves to give this another shot." Shubman said. "Look, I know it won't be easy. We're busy, we'll probably have to do long distance, but I think it's worth it. You're worth it."

Her gaze dropped to the table as his words washed over her. "Long distance isn't just hard, Shubman. It's exhausting. And what if..." She trailed off, unsure how to voice her fears.

"What if we mess it up again?" he finished for her, his tone gentle.

She nodded, her fingers tightening around her glass.

"Tara." he said reassuringly, leaning forward. "We've both changed. We've grown. Maybe we can do it right this time."

She took a deep breath and met his gaze, her own eyes filled with a mix of doubt and hope. "Okay." she said softly. "But we have to be honest with each other this time. No shutting down. No running."

"No running." he agreed, his smile breaking through the tension.






























They spent the next hour hashing out the details — how they'd stay connected, how they'd navigate the challenges of distance, and how they'd keep communication at the center of their relationship.

Shubman's gaze softened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So, let's talk logistics. You're based in New York for now, right?"

"I mean it depends. Mostly, yes. But I often come back if I'm working on a project here... or if I need a break." Tara said softly, her fingers tapping a familiar tune against the table. 

Shubman's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. "And my schedule's all over the place with the tours, but there are gaps. Maybe we can plan around that. Like, I have a week off after the ODI series next month. I could come back here if you're there or meet you in New York."

Tara sipped her coffee thoughtfully, her lips curving into a small smile. "You make it sound easy."

"It's not easy." he said, his voice earnest. "But it's doable. We've been apart for ten years, Tara. A few months of distance doesn't scare me if it means we get to figure this out."

She let his words sink in, warmth spreading through her chest despite the lingering doubts. "What about when we can't see each other for weeks at a time? What happens then?"

Shubman tilted his head, considering her question. "We adapt. Video calls, texts, surprise visits when we can manage. I know it's not perfect, but relationships aren't about perfection. They're about effort."

Tara chuckled, shaking her head. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've had ten years to think about what went wrong." he said softly.

The weight of his confession settled between them, heavy but not suffocating. Tara sipped her coffee, her mind whirring with memories and possibilities. "What about public scrutiny?" she asked after a moment, her tone hesitant.

Shubman leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "That's trickier. The media's relentless, and the both of us have been in the spotlight for years now. But we can set boundaries. We don't have to share everything, you know? Keep it private, at least until we're sure about us."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." Tara admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Keeping it private again. It feels like we're going back to where we started, hiding from the world, not labelling anything."

He frowned, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "It's not the same. Back then, we were kids, sneaking around because we didn't know better. This time, it's about protecting what we have until it's strong enough to handle the noise."

Her eyes searched his, looking for reassurance to calm her racing mind. "And if the noise gets too loud?"

"We turn it into white noise." he said with a small smile. "Something that fades into the background because we're focused on us."

Tara couldn't help but laugh at his determination. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I have." he admitted, his voice steady. "Because losing you again isn't an option."






























They lingered over their coffee, the conversation flowing easily as they shifted between practicalities and memories.

"Do you remember that time we tried to bake cookies at your house?" Shubman asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Tara groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Don't remind me. My mom still brings it up whenever I go home. 'Tara, how do you burn cookies that were supposed to be no-bake?'"

Shubman laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "In our defense, the recipe was terrible. Who uses that much butter?"

"You mean who forgets to use flour?" she shot back, unable to suppress her grin.

The shared laughter felt like a balm, soothing the raw edges of their earlier conversation.

As their mugs emptied, Shubman reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. "We'll figure this out, Tara. One step at a time."

She looked down at their hands, his touch grounding her. "Okay." she said, her voice firm despite the butterflies in her stomach. "But you're doing the heavy lifting if things get messy."

"Deal." he said, his familiar grin comforting and confident.






























When they finally left the café, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows on the pavement. Shubman turned to her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come with me."

"Where?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You'll see." he said, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she let him lead the way. When they pulled up to the small park near their old neighborhood, Tara felt a wave of nostalgia hit her.

"The swings." she said softly, her gaze landing on the familiar metal frames.

"It felt right." Shubman said, his voice quiet.

As they walked toward the swings, memories of their childhood filled the air like a bittersweet melody. She could almost hear the echoes of their laughter, see their younger selves racing each other to the playground.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked as they reached the swings.

Tara smiled. "You mean when you bribed that boy with your candy to give me back my swing?"

"It worked, didn't it?" he said, grinning.

They sat side by side on the swings, letting the quiet creak of the chains fill the space between them. Tara glanced at him, her heart softening at the easy smile on his face.

"It feels like nothing's changed." she said softly.

"But everything has." he replied, his gaze meeting hers.

They stayed there for a while, swinging gently, the weight of their shared past finally settling into something lighter.

"You know..." he said after a while, "this park has always been kind of magical. It's where everything started. And maybe... it's where we can start again."

Tara looked at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. "Maybe." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned back on the swing, her fingers wrapped loosely around the chains as she let her legs dangle. The cool breeze tugged at her hair, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like they'd slipped back in time. Shubman sat on the swing beside her, his feet firmly planted on the ground, swaying gently.

"You know," she said, breaking the quiet, "this feels just like old times. Same park, same swings... same person sitting next to me."

He tilted his head, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "Same person who always pushed your swing too hard?"

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. "Exactly. You were the worst."

"I'd argue I was the best." he countered. "You always came back for another push, didn't you?"

Tara rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Because I didn't know better."






























A comfortable silence settled between them once more before Shubman cleared his throat, breaking it.

"Tara... will you go out with me tomorrow?" he asked, his voice casual yet purposeful.

Tara turned her head sharply, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Tomorrow." he repeated. "A date. Let's go somewhere. Just us."

She hesitated, her heart fluttering at his words. "You're asking me out on a date?"

"Technically..." he said, leaning back on his swing with a smirk, "We've been on dates before. A lot of them, actually. We just didn't know what to call them back then."

Tara couldn't help laughing, the sound spilling out unexpectedly. "Oh, so now you're labeling them as dates?"

"Everyone else did." he said, his grin widening. "You know they weren't wrong."

She shook her head, fighting the warmth spreading through her. "And where exactly is this date supposed to be?"

"Guess you'll find out tomorrow." he said, pushing himself up off the swing. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning down and looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say yes, Tara."

Her lips twitched as she met his gaze. "Alright, Gill. Tomorrow it is."

His smile softened, and he nodded. "I'll see you at seven."

As they walked back, her thoughts swirled with memories of the past and anticipation for what tomorrow might bring.

It was just a date. With Shubman. Again.

tea with t:

Hi Everyone!!

Third chapter. Not proofread so please ignore any mistakes. 😭

What do we think? Let me know how it was! Any suggestions or plots you would like to see?

Please interact!! Vote and Comment. Don't be a silent reader, and don't hesitate to let me know if you have any ideas!

I hope you guys liked it!!

- Love, T. 🎀