What if?

It had been exactly seven days since that December night at ECO—the night with the cards, the coincidences, and the sly wink that left me spinning.

As they stepped out of the bar and stood under the soft halo of the streetlamp, Nikhil turned to her.

“This was… different.”

“Different nice?” Nyra asked, her voice teasing, but her eyes holding something quieter.

“Oh, absolutely! I wasn’t expecting much from the evening—and then to have this? Wow. I didn’t think the night would end like this.”

He hesitated. Words caught in his throat.

“I don’t mean to scare you off, but I’ve never connected with someone so well on a first...”

“Date?” Nyra smiled.

“If we can call it that… yes.” He chuckled, a little sheepish.

“What’s the best way to stay in touch? Your number, Insta handle...? I mean, how do I see you again?”

She looked at him for a beat longer than usual. Then said softly:

“Some things are better left on a good note, no? Why spoil a perfect interaction? Why break the illusion?”

“Illusion?” Nikhil frowned, confused.

“Isn’t that what first dates are? People at their best behavior, best foot forward, best impressions. And then... the cracks show. The masks slip. Expectations arrive. Disappointment follows. People get comfortable, then complacent. Hearts break. Words get sharp. The past resurfaces. Then there’s the pain, the silence, the sulking... until we’re ready to start again with someone new, pretending it’ll be different.”

Nikhil exhaled.

“Wow... you’ve been through something.”

“Or maybe,” she shrugged, “I’ve just observed a lot. Anyway, this was good. We both had fun. Let’s shake on that and walk away with a good memory.”

“But don’t you ever wonder... what if?”

“I’ve learned to have no expectations from others. Only from myself. I live in the moment. I don’t borrow from the future. And I don’t chase ‘what ifs’.”

“So... can we at least stay in touch? As friends?”

She tilted her head, almost kind, almost sad.

“We’d only be forcing it.”

His voice trailed off. There was no counterargument. Not one that felt right.

There was something more to her—past pain, or deep philosophy, or both. Maybe she’d built a fortress. Maybe she was protecting the magic. Maybe she didn’t believe in second chapters.

He knew better than to push.
Or did he?