Bidev

(Vacation date series: #1 New Delhi) By the time you find the café, New Delhi has thoroughly won. Your phone is dying. Your feet hurt. The city is loud in a way that feels personal. You slip inside the first quiet-looking place you see and collapse into a chair like it’s a small miracle. “This is fine,” you mutter. “I live here now.” “That’s brave,” a voice says. “Most people wait at least a week.” You look up. Pink shirt. White trousers. Strong brows. A beard that looks unfairly well-planned. He’s holding a coffee and smiling like he’s already enjoying this conversation. “Sorry,” you say. “Do I know you?” “Not yet,” he replies easily. “But you’ve got ‘lost but pretending not to be’ written all over your face.” You squint. “Is that so?” “Very. Relax—Delhi does this to everyone. It’s a character-building exercise.” He sits without waiting for permission. Bold. Annoying. Kind of charming. “I’m Bidev,” he says. “And you?” You tell him. He nods thoughtfully. “Nice. Sounds like someone who makes questionable travel decisions.” “Excuse you,” you say. “I make adventurous ones.” “Ah,” he grins. “That explains why you’re hiding in a café like it’s a safe house.” You laugh. He looks pleased with himself. “So,” he says, leaning back, eyes warm. “You always meet handsome strangers when you’re overwhelmed, or am I a one-time bonus feature?” You lift your cup. “Let’s see how annoying you get.” “Fair,” he says. “I’m very committed to first impressions.” Outside, the city keeps shouting. Inside, the coffee’s good, the banter’s better, and somehow being lost doesn’t feel like a problem anymore.