I picked up my bag and started walking toward the caf�, half-hoping, half-dreading that I'd hear that voice again. Spilling Stories was its usual quiet self - dim yellow lights, wood everywhere, like time moved slower here.

I ordered my usual and headed upstairs with my laptop, settling into the corner booth by the window. From here, I could pretend to work while watching the world pass by. People watching was a habit now - something I told myself I did to get "ideas" for articles. Truth was, it made me feel... detached in a good way. Like I wasn't really in the world, just documenting it.

Today, though, I could barely write more than a few lines. My thoughts kept trailing off.

And then I heard it - a soft humming. Familiar. The same melody from that song. My heart jumped.

I turned my head.

There he was. The guy at the table behind me. Casual striped shirt, blue trousers, hair like he fought with a comb and lost. A ghost of smile on him face, like it recently faded. His head was bent over a notebook, pen moving slowly. He wasn't just humming absentmindedly. He was in it - like the music still lived in his chest and had nowhere else to go.

He had that face - earnest, open. Puppy eyes, if I had to name it. Not that I name these things.

A second later, I caught myself staring. What am I doing? I facepalmed - literally. And of course, of course, that's when he looked up.

Our eyes met.

His lips curled into a polite, maybe slightly amused smile. He dipped his head slightly, like a quiet greeting.

And I combusted on the inside.

I turned away so fast I nearly knocked over my cup. Fumbled with my laptop, clicking random keys, pretending to work like I hadn't just been caught watching him like some creep.

I finished my coffee in one go and started packing up. It wasn't the embarrassment - it was the feeling that if I stayed longer, I'd do something stupid. Like talk to him.

As I walked downstairs, Radha looked up from behind the counter.

"You didn't stay long today?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

"I don't feel very good," I lied.

"Sick?"

"No, just tired." I paused. Debated. Then gave in. "Hey, do you know the guy sitting upstairs? The one with the striped shirt?"

Radha's eyes lit up immediately. "Why? You like him? Is he your type?"

"Never mind." Huge mistake.

She laughed. "Okay, okay. I don't really know him-know him. But he comes in sometimes. Singer, I think. He performed here a few days ago."

My heart skipped. "Really?"

"Didn't think he'd be your type. Cute, though." She leaned to look past me toward the stairs.

"Stop staring, Radha. He might get the wrong idea. And I'm not interested. I just liked the song he was singing. Wanted to know if it's available somewhere."

Radha grinned, amused but cooperative. "Alright. I'll check with Ateek - he's the one who talks to artists. Maybe he recorded it. I'll send it to you."

"Thanks," I mumbled, already trying to put the whole moment behind me.

Back home, I finished up my article: Art: The Universal Thread Connecting Human Hearts and Minds. Cheesy, maybe. But I meant every word of it. I hit "send" to my CE and leaned back, satisfied for once.

A ping. Message from Radha.

She'd sent the link.

I clicked instantly. It opened to a video recorded in the caf�. He was sitting on that little wooden stool near the window. Guitar in hand. Voice rich, raw - like it had been dipped in sadness and wrung out with care. His eyes were closed as he sang, but his face told the whole story. Every word looked like it was pulled from somewhere painful and real.

Very different from the guy I saw today - humming, smiling to himself, messy hair and all.

"I wish I could see what's going on in his head," I whispered, mostly to myself.

"Whose head?" Kanika's voice made me jump.

"When did you get home?"

"Just now. Saw you talking to yourself. What's up?"

"I found the song," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Oh wow. Determination paid off?"

"Listen." I handed her an earbud.

We sat in silence for a while, just listening. She nodded along slowly. "Hmm. I like it. Who's the guy?"

"I don't know. No name on the video. But I saw him at the caf� today."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No. Why would I?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because you've been obsessed with this song for days?"

"I asked Radha. She sent the link."

Kanika shook her head. "You're so weird. If it were me, I'd have gone right up and asked."

"Yeah, that's the difference between you and me."

I reclined my chair as far back as it would go and closed my eyes. I'd avoided another social situation - and probably a very awkward conversation. But still, I couldn't help thinking?

If his eyes held stories, why did I want to read them?