Coffee, Not a Date
Chapter 5 – Coffee, Not a Date
Kira didn’t ask for Aleem’s number.
Not because she didn’t want it.
But because she didn’t want to want it in the way people often wanted things–hungrily, quickly, with the feeling that if it didn’t happen now, it would never happen.
Instead, she let the week take its shape.
Work. Commutes. Dinner with her girls. Aisyah complaining about a meeting that should have been an email. Yuxin sending her a photo of a sunset like it was a love letter. Farah calling her while walking home just so she wouldn’t be alone on the street. Wen sitting beside her while they did nothing and still somehow made it feel like something.
And then, on Wednesday evening, a message came through from the birthday girl.
Birthday Girl: Hey! I’m meeting some people at this café on Saturday. Come if you’re free. Very chill.
Kira looked at it for a moment, then forwarded it to the girls.
Kira: Anyone wants to go?
Aisyah replied first.
Aisyah: I can. But I might be late. Family lunch.
Yuxin: Café. Yes. Always yes.
Farah: I’ll come if Wen comes.
Wen: Okay.
Kira smiled and set her phone down.
No spiralling. No anticipation. Just a plan.
Saturday arrived with soft weather and a sky that looked undecided.
The café was quieter than the restaurant had been–smaller tables, less noise, a kind of calm that made you speak more gently without realising. Light spilled in through tall windows, turning cups and cutlery into small reflections.
Kira arrived first, as she often did. It wasn’t anxiety. It was habit. She liked arriving early enough to settle into a space before it filled.
She chose a table near the window.
Her phone buzzed.
Yuxin: On my way. I’m bringing pastries.
Farah: Traffic is rude. Save me a seat.
Aisyah: Ten minutes.
Wen didn’t text. Wen never texted when she was on her way. She simply appeared.
Kira ordered tea and opened her bag, pulling out a book she wasn’t really reading.
When the bell above the café door chimed, she didn’t look up immediately.
She only noticed the shift in the room–voices rising briefly in greeting, then settling.
Aleem walked in with Dan and Im.
Fiz was behind them, hood up, eyes already scanning for the least crowded corner. Aaron followed last, hands in his pockets, expression neutral.
Kira’s gaze lifted instinctively.
Aleem saw her at the same time.
There was no surprise on his face. Only recognition–quiet, unforced.
He nodded once, politely.
Kira nodded back.
A small exchange.
Not a claim.
Not a signal.
Just: I see you.
They did not walk over immediately.
They didn’t have to.
The birthday girl greeted everyone, bridging tables, pulling chairs, laughing too loudly as if to fill potential awkwardness.
Kira’s girls began arriving in sequence.
Yuxin slid into the seat beside her with a paper bag of pastries and a grin.
“I brought the almond ones,” she whispered like it was a secret.
Farah arrived next, dropping her bag with a dramatic sigh.
Aisyah came last, hair still slightly damp from a rushed shower, eyes sharp even while smiling.
Wen arrived quietly, setting her tote bag down with careful precision, then sitting beside Kira without a word.
Kira’s table felt complete.
Across the café, Aleem’s table did too.
Two worlds, intact.
Parallel.
The birthday girl floated between them until she decided she wanted everyone at one table for a photo.
Chairs scraped. Drinks were moved. People migrated closer, laughter smoothing over the inconvenience.
Kira found herself seated across from Aleem.
Not directly.
Slightly angled.
Enough that she could look up and meet his eyes without it feeling like a performance.
The conversation around them was scattered–someone discussing a new job, someone else complaining about rent. Dan was telling a story with exaggerated hand gestures. Yuxin was already trying to photograph the pastries.
Kira listened more than she spoke.
Aleem did the same.
Their attention drifted toward each other in small, natural increments.
When someone asked Kira what she did for work, she answered simply.
Cybersecurity. Tech lead. Long hours.
Aleem nodded as if he understood the weight of that.
When someone asked Aleem about his life, he answered without posturing.
Gym. Work. Friends.
He said “friends” like it was not an afterthought.
That, more than anything, made Kira’s chest feel quietly warm.
Later, as the group thinned and people began leaving in pairs and clusters, the birthday girl leaned over Kira’s shoulder.
“Stay a bit?” she asked. “Aleem is staying too.”
Kira didn’t flinch at the implication.
She looked at Wen.
Wen’s expression was neutral, calm.
“You can,” Wen said softly.
Aisyah stood behind Kira’s chair, squeezing her shoulder once.
“If you need me, call,” she murmured.
Farah made a face. “Don’t be weird. Just enjoy your coffee.”
Yuxin winked and scooped a pastry into a napkin as if packing an emergency kit.
Kira laughed.
Then, as the girls rose and gathered their things, Kira stayed.
Across the table, Aleem’s bros began doing the same.
Dan clapped Aleem on the back loudly. Im leaned close to say something too quiet for anyone else to hear. Fiz nodded once and walked out without dragging the moment. Aaron paused near the door, glanced back, and gave Aleem a look that felt like a silent question.
Aleem lifted his chin slightly.
Aaron left.
The café felt emptier when the friend-shapes around them stepped away.
Not lonely.
Just quieter.
Kira reached for her cup. Aleem reached for his at the same time.
Their fingers brushed lightly against the porcelain.
Kira stilled.
Aleem stilled too.
It was not electric.
It was simply real.
He withdrew first, not because he was afraid, but because he made room.
Kira watched him do it.
She exhaled, slow.
“So,” Aleem said, voice low enough that it didn’t belong to the rest of the café. “How’s your week been?”
Kira considered the question. Not as small talk.
As an opening.
“Fine,” she said, then added honestly, “Busy. But fine.”
Aleem nodded.
“Same.”
Silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Not demanding.
Kira realised, suddenly, that neither of them had touched their phones.
They were both present.
Aleem glanced at her earrings.
“Those are nice,” he said.
Kira’s hand lifted instinctively. “They’re not mine.”
Aleem’s eyebrows rose.
She explained, lightly, “Borrowed. From a friend. I keep forgetting to return them.”
He smiled, small and genuine.
“Seems like a good problem to have,” he said.
Kira’s chest softened.
She didn’t know why that sentence felt like it belonged to the centre of something.
Maybe because it was an understanding.
That love did not have to be owned to be real.
Outside, the sky darkened into evening.
Inside, the window caught their reflections faintly–two people seated across from each other, not leaning in too much, not pulling away.
Just existing.
Together.
选择不是依赖，是自由。
Choice is not dependence–it is freedom.
When Aleem finally asked, “Would you want to do this again?”
It didn’t sound like a confession.
It sounded like a question asked by someone who would accept any answer.
Kira looked at him.
She felt calm.
She felt intact.
“Yes,” she said.
And it was enough.