"It felt weird," Shubman said to his best friend as they sat on the couch in his office. "When she said that, I had this feeling over here," he placed a hand on his chest.

It was 2 am, the meeting was over, and the duo were literally living up to their title of 2 am friends.

"It was something electric but at the same time it felt hollow," he tried describing his emotions from the afternoon. "I've never felt this way for anyone else, Ishu. I don't know how to tell her."

"Well, I can't tell you since I've never been in that place either. But Y/n just seems," Ishan thought until he found the right word. "-guarded. In many ways, even very similar to how you used to be."

Shubman just stayed silent for a while before he spoke again. "She'll trust me one day."

"Until then?" The one with the piercings piped up.

"I'll wait," he shrugged. "Maybe at the diner."

"Alright. But have you checked her history completely?" Ishan asked, having been wanting to for a long time.

It was weird to see Shubman trust someone so blindly.

Don't get him wrong, he's the happiest that his best friend has finally found love. But he still looked out for him.

You could be a spy for all they knew.

The younger one knew where they were getting with that question.

"No, just work schedules and her residence," he answered. "Anything else personal, I want to know it only if she wants to tell me herself."

"Are you sure?" His best friend asked again and he had no reason to say otherwise.

"I'm sure about her."

The next evening~

Shubman was there again.

You paid for the dinner, thankfully accepted at one go, and walked out.

Like the previous night, he was leaning against the side of his car outside.

Only this time, he wasn't on the other side of the road but parked in front of the closed building next to the diner.

It was in the direction you took home.

With another sigh, you've been doing it a lot lately, you saw him smile as he looked at you.

Just a week. Seven days and he'll grow tired of me, you thought as you slowly walked past him.

"How was your day?" Shubman asked, startling you a little and you stopped on your tracks.

You looked at him as if he had asked you the most difficult question in chemistry, physics and math combined.

Then you just nodded and rushed away.

And the next evening, he was there too.

When he repeated the same question from the previous day, you walked away quickly without saying anything, not even a nod.

Six days

The following evening too; same place, same pose, same smile as you walked out of the diner.

"How was your day?" Shubman asked again and you were not startled this time. You expected something.

"Okay," you mumbled, loud enough for only him to hear as you walked away with one though, despite his smile that just got brighter. Five days until he gets tired of me.

The next and third evening, he smiled a bit more because you looked at him a second longer though you did not answer.

Four days.

And the next, you stopped at the familiar question and legit stared at him, not saying anything. Three days.

Then you walked away.

"How was your day?" He had asked the same question again the next evening and you answered.

"Good," you said with a plain expression before walking home. Two days.

You guess things changed on the seventh day.

It was not a normal day for you.

One of your co-workers had broken a few glasses in the kitchen while you were inside.

You had been tripping on air ever since.

It's just the sound that puts you off so much.

You got three orders wrong in the last hour yet your manager acted like an angel.

Honestly, the last time the mafia boss was here, he was acting like those parents in soap operas who try to set their children up together.

Still dazed, you brought the misplaced order back to the serving counter.

"Uh, it was two glasses of strawberry juice, not blueberry slushie," you said smally and the drinks were taken off the counter.

You looked at your co-worker's back as she walked inside the kitchen.

"Sorry," you mumbled as she got in, waiting for a few minutes, trying to control your breathing until the drinks arrived.

As soon as the glasses were placed on the counter, you went to pick them up. Your hands could've been sweating. You didn't know.

You felt nothing as the drinks slipped out of your hands, spilling all over your t-shirt and jeans.

People looked your way immediately and you stepped back from the broken glass.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathed a bit heavily while trying to think straight.

"I'm sorry," you said loudly to the customers before crouching down to pick up the glass pieces, cutting yourself with a shard.

"Y/n, it's fine. We'll have someone else clean it," your manager walked to you, prompting you to stand up again.

"I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened to me today-"

You spoke restlessly while still bleeding from the cut.

"No, it's okay," he said again. "Doesn't your shift end in ten minutes? You can leave now."

"I'll clean this up before that," you volunteered but your manager stopped you.

"It's really fine, Y/n. We'll take care of this. Go home," he said before walking away to the kitchen to find someone who can clean the mess you made.

I'll only make it worse.

You took slow steps towards the break room to get your backpack.

And with the same pace, you walked out of the café, shivering just a bit in the cold of the night, your clothes still wet.

They dried a bit as you had dinner, albeit how hard you found it to swallow.

All you had was a splitting headache and people staring at your wet shoes and jeans now half-stained pink.

Habitually paying for the meal, you walked out of the diner.

And he was there again.

There was a soft smile on his face as he saw you. A genuine one which you had never seen anyone be towards you.

You stopped in front of him slowly, watching as his eyes never once left yours.

"How was your day?" Shubman asked as a routine and that was the last straw.

No one's ever asked you how your day was before him.

All the emotions you bottled up the whole day came rushing out.

You felt tears well up in your eyes for the first time in months and you crashed into his chest.

There was no controlling your sobs anymore. All you did was wrap your arms around him tightly.

It all felt too much.

Shubman was taken aback. Confused but equally worried as he wrapped his around you too.

"Baby," He tried to talk. "What happened?" He asked and you just shook your head, still crying into his chest and refusing to pull away.

He wanted to know what was the reason behind your tears.

But more than that, he just wanted to stop them.

He just wanted to be your comfort, caressing your back as you sobbed, peppering kisses to your head.

So he stayed, hugging you just as tightly as you wept in his arms.