They say the hardest days make you crave the smallest comforts.
This past week? It wasn’t just hard.
It was the kind of week that shatters you quietly — the kind where even your dreams seem to fall through your fingers no matter how tightly you hold on.
I was exhausted — emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
The kind of tired that even sleep can’t fix.
My boyfriend, Aarav, was knee-deep in prep for one of the most important exams of his life. His days were swallowed by textbooks, mock tests, and caffeine. I barely got to see him, barely heard his voice beyond the rushed, “I’ll call you after this chapter” texts. And I understood. I did. His dreams matter just as much as mine.
Still… a part of me missed him with the kind of ache that sits just beneath the skin.
So when my girls asked if I wanted to go out for pani puri — that holy grail of Indian soul food — I said yes, instantly. I needed the spice, the chaos, the kind of evening where laughter came easier than tears.
On a whim, I texted Aarav:
“We’re going to the old pani puri spot. Wanna join?”
His reply came five minutes later.
“Can’t. Gotta finish a couple of mocks. Sorry, love.”
And I got it. Truly. There wasn’t even disappointment — just a quiet acceptance.
Some days, love means letting them do what they need to do.
So we went — three girls in a car, blasting heartbreak songs that somehow still felt comforting.
We reached the stall — our usual spot — and waited our turn, soaking in the scent of crisp puris frying, tangy tamarind water, and the joy of strangers crowding around a cart like it was a shrine.
And just as I leaned in to say something snarky to my best friend…and I turned my head mid-giggle…
I saw him.
Aarav.
He was just… there.
Wearing that faded grey tee I secretly love. His hair was still a mess from studying, his eyes tired — but they lit up the second they found mine.
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Because that’s the thing about love — it sneaks up on you. Even when it’s your own.
And that smile.
That stupid, beautiful, heart-melting smile.
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me — eyes crinkled, lips curved like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
He walked over, hands in his pockets, smiling that slow, boyish smile that always gets me.
“Thought maybe I could use a break. And maybe… you.”
If I were a heroine in a movie, this is when the background score would swell.
But in real life? I just blinked up at him and whispered, “You came?”
He nodded. “What’s pani puri without someone to steal it from?”
I grinned and punched his arm — gently.
And that was it. No grand declarations. No fireworks. Just him, choosing me, even when life was a mess.
We stood at the stall, and I immediately started stealing his puris — especially the ones with just the right amount of meetha chutney and extra spicy water.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered as I snatched another. “This is straight-up daylight robbery.”
“And yet you still love me,” I smirked.
He sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”
We laughed. My friends laughed. It was simple. Silly. Us.
Then came the thick shakes. We walked a little to a nearby café and grabbed one chocolate and one strawberry — shared them like kids at recess. I told him the strawberry was his because he’s secretly soft, and he rolled his eyes like I wasn’t absolutely right.
And then… we sat on a random bench under a tree that shed tiny yellow flowers like confetti. No deep conversations. No heavy emotions. Just light touches, quiet comfort, and stolen glances.
And in that thirty-minute pocket of time, I forgot the world had been unkind to me.
Forgot the pain of broken dreams.
Because he was there.
He didn’t bring flowers or write me poetry.
He just came. He made time — when he barely had any.
And in this storm of sadness and chaos that my life has felt like lately… he was there. A calm in the middle of it all.
Sometimes, the smallest things become the most unforgettable memories.
A walk under the evening sky. Fingers sticky with pani puri masala.
Laughter that tastes sweeter than the thick shake you’re sipping.
Because love — real love — is never loud.
It’s a quiet “I’ll be there.”
Even when the world feels like it’s crumbling.
And that — that made everything feel lighter.
He didn’t bring a solution.
He didn’t promise things would magically get better.
He just showed up.
For me.
And that’s what love really is, isn’t it?
It’s not the grand gestures or perfect timing. It’s the quiet choosing.
The “I’m here even though I’m tired.”
The “Let’s split a shake even if I hate strawberry.”
The “You steal my food and I let you because it makes you smile.”
It’s knowing someone would sit with you at a pani puri stall on a random, dusty evening — because they sensed your heart needed it.
And as we walked back to the car, his hand brushing mine, I looked up at the stars trying to peek through the polluted city sky and thought:
“The world may fall apart, but if he’s beside me when it does, I’ll still feel whole.”
So maybe life was unfair. Maybe things were breaking.
But love… love was standing beside me that evening.
Smiling with tired eyes.
Letting me eat the last puri.
I’m Kavya. And even in my worst week, I got my little love story.
Right there, beside a pani puri stall, with the boy who made it all a little better.
Want to read a bit more? Find some more of my writings here-
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The Caller in the Walls: A Ghost Story
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