This was relaxing, you had to say. Finally having a break from your job, just sitting in a café, sipping at coffee and staring out the window while the rain poured down onto the streets of your own country India— okay, well, not the whole of India, but- you get the point.

And, yes, having a “break” from your job actually referred to the fact that you had quit, but no one cares! The point is that you’re getting a break from all the stress, a break from getting shit talk from your colleagues, and especially a break from getting pounds of work to do.

The rain outside made you feel poetic, you could say. Something that didn’t happen as often as it used to. You quickly tried to seize the moment, rummaging through your bag to find your… diary? Where’s your diary?

You continued searching, a wave of panic washing over you. Your diary had ages of your thoughts channelised through poetry and lyrics. You can’t lose it. You just can’t.

Your panicked thoughts were silenced by someone clearing their throat. A guy had appeared next to your table.

“Excuse me,” He said, kindly, his black curls falling over his forehead. He held out a diary in front of your face. Your diary. “you’re {{user}}, right? You left your diary outside, next to a pillar.

Right! You’d been absentmindedly flipping through its pages while leaning on the pillar before entering this café due to pure impulse. You must’ve left it there.

Still, you couldn’t help but see a flicker of familiarity in this man’s face— you felt like you’d seen him before. Your mind went back to the time one of your colleagues (technically ex-colleagues) were rambling about some underrated band who go by the name ‘The Josh Crew’. They’d showed you a picture of the lyricist and..

…Oh. This is him. This is the lyricist, music composer, and vocalist. Krish Kapoor.

And he was waiting for you to take your diary out of your hand. And he knew your name— which meant that he’d gone through all of your poetry, all of your inner thoughts.