The One I Denied, The One I Can't Lose

London's soft morning mist curled around the windows of The Dorchester, casting a pale glow into Shayari's suite. She stood by the window, dressed in a light sweater and trousers, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she stared at the unfamiliar skyline. Her fingers curled around a porcelain teacup, warm against her palms. This was her first time in the city—its charm undeniable, yet she felt distant from it, too tangled in thoughts she didn't want to examine.

A knock at the door pulled her from her reverie.

Opening it, she found Ranveer standing there, casual in a navy overcoat and a scarf, holding two takeaway coffee cups. His hair was slightly tousled from the wind.

"Umm, good morning, I brought backup," he said, lifting one of the cups slightly. "Thought you might need something stronger than hotel tea."

Shayari blinked, then slowly reached for the cup. "Thank you," she said, voice calm. She didn't invite him in.

Ranveer didn't mind. "Well I was thinking...that this is your first visit here, so...." he continued, "so, if you're up for it... I could show you around. Just a few spots. Hyde Park, maybe the Thames, Borough Market—nothing fancy."

She looked down at the coffee cup in her hands, then met his eyes. "That's kind of you to offer, Ranveer" she replied, her tone even. "But I have a few things to review for tomorrow."

A polite refusal. Not abrupt, not harsh. Just firm.

He nodded, swallowing his disappointment. "Sure. Just thought I'd ask."

As he turned to leave, she spoke again—soft, but clear.

"I might step out later. If I do... I'll let you know."

He paused mid-step, then glanced back at her. "Alright. I'll be around."

She gave a faint nod and closed the door.

Alone again, Shayari set the coffee on the desk and stood still for a moment. Her heart betrayed her in the silence—tugging, aching—but she had learned to silence it. She walked back to the window, sipping the coffee slowly. It was exactly how she liked it.

Somehow, he knows?

Shayari's phone buzzed softly on the desk beside her untouched breakfast tray.

Ma. A small smile tugged at her lips.

She picked it up and answered, adjusting the shawl over her shoulders. "Hi, Ma."

"Beta, how are you? You reached okay? The room is nice, na? You didn't forget to take your vitamins?"

A wave of quiet affection rushed through her at the barrage of motherly concern. "I'm fine, Ma. The flight was smooth. And yes, the room is lovely. I've already had tea."

They spoke for a few minutes—little things, familiar voices grounding her from miles away.

Then came the sudden chirp of a younger voice on the other end.

"Di!"

She laughed. "Hello, Gaurav."

"You're in London! And you're sitting in a hotel room?" he said, mock scandalized. "Who does that? That's so boring! Are you old now?"

Shayari rolled her eyes fondly. "I'm here for work, Gaurav. Not a vacation."

"That doesn't mean you turn into an aunty overnight," he shot back. "Go see a red bus or something. Eat weird food. Take a picture next to that big Ferris wheel thingy. Send me proof you're not wasting the opportunity."

She leaned against the edge of the window, smiling now. "Are you done?"

"Just saying. If I were in London, I'd already be chasing pigeons in Hyde Park. You're making the country look bad, Di."