The morning air in Shimla had a certain kind of bite - crisp and bracing, like it had secrets to tell if you just stood still long enough. Rhea wrapped her shawl tighter as she stepped into the local caf� near Mall Road, a small place she'd discovered years ago with her parents. The wooden signboard hadn't changed, nor had the little bell that chimed overhead when she entered.

Inside, the air was warm and rich with the scent of cinnamon, roasted coffee beans, and melting snow on wool coats. Rhea found a corner table by the window and ordered her favorite: masala chai with a hint of ginger. She needed a moment away from the logistics, the endless emails, and, most of all, from the unexpected storm called Aarav.

She had tried to focus. Really, she had. But Aarav's words from the previous night played on loop in her head - his voice, soft but weighted: "I missed you? not just for a while. For years."

Why now? Why here?

The snow falling outside blurred the view of the street, softening edges, making everything feel like a memory. Her fingers tapped the table unconsciously, a rhythm of restlessness.

"Twice in one day?" came a familiar voice.

She turned, startled. Aarav stood at the entrance, brushing snow from his jacket, his cheeks red from the cold.

"This wasn't planned," she said, smiling despite herself.

"No such thing as coincidence," he replied, walking over. "Mind if I sit?"

She gestured to the chair across from her. "It's a free country."

Aarav settled in, ordering black coffee, no sugar. Some things hadn't changed.

"You still drink chai like it's magic," he teased.

"That's because it is."

Their banter came easier today, like the thin layer of ice between them was beginning to melt. Outside, the snow continued its slow descent, and inside, time seemed to bend - drawing them into that quiet bubble where nothing existed but shared glances and half-finished sentences.

"So," Rhea began, trying to sound casual, "how long are you here after the wedding?"

"Couple more days. I was thinking of staying longer? maybe visit some of our old places."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean the woods where we got lost? Or the tea stall you made me hike two miles to reach?"

Aarav laughed, head tilted back in that easy, carefree way she remembered. "Hey, that tea was worth it. Admit it."

She rolled her eyes but grinned. "Fine. It was good tea."

Their drinks arrived, the cups warm in their hands. For a while, they just sipped, watching the snowfall blur the world beyond the glass.

Then Aarav broke the silence. "Do you ever think about what would've happened if we hadn't... fallen apart?"

The question hit Rhea like a sudden gust of cold air. She looked down at her chai, tracing the rim of the cup.

"I used to," she admitted. "But then I got busy pretending it didn't matter."

"Same," he said. "I told myself it was just childhood stuff. We were kids. It didn't mean anything."

"But it did," she whispered.

Their eyes met again, and the weight of all the unsaid things pressed down between them.

Aarav exhaled slowly. "I'm not trying to make this complicated, Rhea. I just? seeing you again - it brought back everything. And I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with it."

She shook her head slightly. "You have someone, Aarav. That's not something we can just forget because of nostalgia and snowy evenings."

"I know," he said, his voice tight. "But it doesn't make this go away."

Silence settled like snow between them - soft but suffocating.

"I should get back," Rhea said eventually, her voice steadier than she felt.

Aarav nodded, rising as she did. "I'll see you at the rehearsal tonight?"

She hesitated at the doorway, her hand on the frame. "Yeah. I'll be there."

And with that, she stepped out into the snow, her heart both lighter and heavier all at once. Behind her, the warmth of the caf� faded, and ahead of her, the road stretched, covered in footprints - some fresh, some fading.

Each one a choice. Each one a memory.