A Peace Within You

Monday arrived like an unwelcome guest—bringing chaos in its wake. The office was a battlefield of overflowing inboxes, phones ringing off the hook, and a coffee machine that had chosen the worst possible day to give up on life. To make matters worse, a power cut had turned half our floor into a human furnace, leaving everyone sticky, irritable, and desperately seeking refuge.

Yet through all this mayhem, my mind kept drifting back to Saturday evening at the café. The soft jazz, the comfortable silences, the way Kabir had looked when he talked about books. It had only been one outing—we hadn't even known each other a full month. But something about that evening lingered like the last line of a poem you can't shake off.

"Yaar, I can't take this heat anymore," Veer announced dramatically around 4 PM, loosening his already wilted collar. "Smoke break, anyone? The terrace has to be better than this oven."

"Finally, a sensible suggestion from you," Riya said, pushing back from her desk. "I was about to melt into my chair."

"Same here," Myra chimed in, grabbing her phone. "Plus, I need to tell you guys about what happened with that guy from Bumble. It's a disaster story worth sharing."

"Oh, this should be good," Nishant grinned, already heading toward the elevator. "Your dating stories are better than Netflix."

I hesitated for a moment, then followed the group. We all needed the break, and honestly, the heat was becoming unbearable.

The terrace was indeed better—a slight breeze offering some mercy from the Mumbai summer. But it wasn't empty.

Kabir was already there, leaning against the railing with his shirt sleeves rolled up, his gaze fixed on the hazy skyline like it held answers to questions he wasn't ready to ask aloud. There was something about the way he stood—relaxed yet distant, present yet lost in thought.

Our eyes met as our group approached, and something passed between us. Not acknowledgment exactly, not interest—something softer. Like recognition. Like two people who had shared something real, recognizing each other across a crowded room.

"Arrey Kabir, you're already here!" Veer called out. "Perfect timing, yaar. I was just dying in that heat."

"The AC on our side completely gave up," Riya added, fanning herself with a file. "I swear, this building's infrastructure is from the Stone Age."

Kabir nodded, offering a small smile. "Been here for about ten minutes. It's not much better, but at least there's some air."

I found myself gravitating toward the spot beside him—not too close to draw attention from the others, but close enough to feel his presence, to catch the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

"Okay, so about this Bumble disaster," Myra began, immediately capturing everyone's attention. "This guy seemed perfect on chat, right? Good job, nice photos, could actually hold a conversation—"

"Red flag number one," Nishant interrupted with a grin. "No one's that perfect on dating apps."

"Exactly what I should have thought!" Myra laughed. "So we decided to meet at that new place. I reach there, and I'm waiting for like twenty minutes. Finally, he shows up, and guys—I kid you not—he looked nothing like his photos. Nothing!"

"Catfish alert!" Riya exclaimed. "Please tell me you didn't stay."

"Oh, it gets worse," Myra continued, enjoying her audience. "Not only did he look completely different, but he spent the entire evening talking about his ex. Like, detailed stories about their relationship, why they broke up, how she 'didn't understand his artistic soul'—"

"His artistic soul?" Veer snorted. "What was he, a poet?"

"A struggling DJ," Myra deadpanned, sending everyone into fits of laughter.

While the others were absorbed in Myra's story, Kabir quietly offered me a cigarette. I wasn't a regular smoker, but something about the gesture felt right. I took it. He lit mine first, then his own, the small flame briefly illuminating his face in the evening light.

Silence wrapped around us like a protective barrier while our friends continued their animated discussion.

"I wasn't sure you'd come today," he said softly, his voice barely audible above the others' laughter.

"I almost didn't," I admitted, taking a careful drag.

"Why?"

I considered the question, watching the smoke dissipate into the evening air. "I didn't want to ruin the memory of Saturday. At the café, you seemed... real. Yourself. Here, with everyone around, you become someone else."

He glanced at me, something unreadable in his expression. "I don't like being watched."

"By people or by expectations?"

"Both," he said quietly, and I could hear the weight behind that simple word.

"—and then he had the audacity to ask me to split the bill!" Myra's voice rose, pulling my attention back to the group for a moment.

"No way!" Riya gasped. "After talking about his ex all evening?"

"The entitlement is real," Nishant shook his head. "Some people have no self-awareness."

I turned back to Kabir, lowering my voice. "Can I tell you something?"

He didn't respond immediately, just kept smoking, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the horizon.

"I've been through something," I continued, choosing my words carefully. "Something that... broke me in ways I'm still figuring out. I don't do casual things. I don't play games. I don't even trust easily anymore—if I ever did."

This time, he looked at me directly, his full attention focused on my words.

"I'm not asking you to explain yourself. I'm not asking for more than what you can give. But I need honesty, Kabir. Even in friendship. Especially in friendship. I need to know that whatever this is—" I gestured vaguely between us, "—it's real. That you won't say something today and take it back tomorrow."

He was quiet for several heartbeats. Around us, our friends' conversation had shifted to weekend plans, Veer suggesting a movie night at his place.

"You think we're friends?" Kabir asked finally, his voice careful.

I nodded. "I want us to be. But I need to know you won't... disappear. That you won't break my trust just because it's convenient. That's all I'm asking for."

His eyes locked onto mine, more serious than I'd ever seen them. There was something raw there, something that made me think he understood exactly what I was talking about.

"I won't," he said, and the simplicity of those words carried more weight than any elaborate promise could have.

"You mean that?"

"I swear," he replied, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "On all my broken parts."

Something in my chest loosened—not because I believed him completely, not yet, but because in that moment, I wanted to. Because he'd answered not with easy reassurances but with an honesty that matched my own.

"Oi, you two!" Veer's voice suddenly cut through our bubble. "What's with the serious faces? You look like you're planning a murder."

"Just discussing the existential crisis of Monday mornings," I said lightly, stubbing out my cigarette.

"Ah, a worthy topic," Riya nodded sagely. "Monday mornings are the universe's way of testing our will to live."

"Speaking of which," Nishant checked his phone, "we should probably head back. The AC might be working again, and I have a client call in twenty minutes."

"Back to the Prison," Myra sighed dramatically.

As the group began to move toward the door, Kabir fell into step beside me, but not before I caught him exchanging easy banter with Veer about some cricket match. It struck me how effortlessly he could shift between the serious person I'd just been talking to and the casual colleague everyone else knew.

"You're good at that," I murmured as we waited for the elevator.

"At what?"

"Being different people for different situations."

He considered this. "Survival skill, I guess."

The elevator arrived, and we all squeezed in, the conversation shifting to complaints about the air conditioning and speculation about whether the coffee machine would be fixed by tomorrow.

"If it's not fixed by tomorrow, I'm staging a protest," Riya declared. "How can they expect us to function without caffeine?"

"I'll join your revolution," Myra said solemnly. "Workers' rights include the right to decent coffee."

"You realize there's a café literally across the street?" Nishant pointed out.

"That's not the point," Veer said. "It's the principle of the thing."

I found myself smiling at their easy Talks, the way they could turn even minor office inconveniences into shared jokes. These people had become more than just colleagues over the past few weeks—they were the kind of friends who made even the worst Monday bearable.

Back at our desks, the afternoon crawled by. The AC had indeed been partially restored, though it was fighting a losing battle against the heat. I tried to focus on work, but my mind kept drifting back to the conversation on the terrace, to the way Kabir had looked when he made that promise.

Around six, as people began to pack up for the day, my phone buzzed with a message.

Kabir: Do you always ask for promises this early?

I glanced around the office. He was already gone—must have left quietly while I was absorbed in emails.

Me: No. You're the first person I felt needed to hear it.

Kabir: That's heavy.

Me: So am I. Emotionally, at least.

He sent a laughing emoji, followed by a GIF of someone dramatically crying under a blanket, which made me laugh out loud despite myself.

Kabir: I meant what I said, though. I don't break promises.

Me: Good. Because I don't survive it when people do.

There was a pause before his next message.

Kabir: What happened? The thing that broke you?

I stared at the screen for a long moment. It wasn't a question I was ready to answer, not fully. But something about his directness made me want to try.

Me: Let's just say... I learned that sometimes love isn't the problem. Everything else is. And no matter how much you try, some things just slip through your hands anyway.

Kabir: I'm sorry.

Me: It's okay. Made me stronger, I think. More careful, definitely.

Kabir: Careful isn't always bad.

Me: No, but it's lonely.

Another pause.

Kabir: Yeah. It is.

Something about that simple acknowledgment meant more than a dozen sympathetic speeches would have.

Me: Thank you. For today. For listening.

Kabir: Thank you for trusting me enough to ask.

Later that evening, at home in my small apartment, I found myself staring at the ceiling, replaying the day. I'd done something I hadn't done in over a year—I'd asked someone to stay. Not romantically, but something that felt equally vulnerable.

I didn't want to fall into anything. I couldn't afford to. But something in me already had—not into love, but into trust. Into the possibility that maybe, just maybe, not everyone would disappoint me.

My phone buzzed with a message from our office group chat.

Veer: Movie night this Saturday? My place. I've got the projector set up.

Riya: Yes! What are we watching?

Myra: Please tell me it's not another action movie. I need something with an actual plot.

Nishant: I vote for comedy. Something mindless after this week.

Me: Count me in. I'll bring snacks.

Veer: Perfect! Kabir, you in?

There was a pause, then:

Kabir: Sure. What time?

Veer: 7 PM. Fair warning, though - my neighbors are loud, so we might have to compete with their music.

Riya: As long as your AC works better than the office one.

Myra: And please tell me your coffee machine is functional.

Veer: Both in perfect working order. I'm not a monster.

I smiled at the easy back-and-forth, at how naturally Kabir had been included, how naturally he'd accepted. Maybe this was how trust worked—not in grand gestures or dramatic moments, but in small steps, in showing up, in choosing to be part of something good.

Kabir: See you Saturday then.

Me: Looking forward to it.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I thought about promises and trust, about the courage it takes to reach out your hand in the dark and ask not for love, but for honesty. About friends who make Monday bearable and the strange comfort of finding someone who understands that being careful and being lonely often go hand in hand.

Some bonds do begin with quiet understandings. And sometimes, if you're very lucky, those understandings grow into something worth keeping.

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Hello Guyz, 

Here is the new chapter. Let me know what you think — especially about the friendship dynamics and Kabir. Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!