Chai & Matcha Diaries

I’d been calling Reva for two days straight. No answer.

It’s strange—how I used to mock my friends for the drama in their relationships. Someone’s always angry, someone’s ego gets in the way. I’d sworn I’d do things differently—marry the girl my mother picked out, live a simple, sorted life. But look at me now—living a mess that’s not even an official relationship. Hell, we’re not even together.

Reva isn’t wrong. I did hurt her. But she’s too understanding for her own good—she didn’t pick up my calls but she still texted me, politely reminding me that we could never really be together. That’s what she believes. Everyone else too.
But not me. And that should count for something.

I told her to take her time, calm down—just that we’d talk once, face to face. That was two weeks ago.

Now, I’m liking her stories on Instagram like an idiot while she barely responds. Not that I’ve been trying hard myself. I’ve been hopping cities for robotic trials—deadlines slipping, vendors delaying, sales under pressure. The stress has been so thick I forget my own personal disasters. But that doesn’t mean I quit. We’re still grinding, getting investors in since the mini launch in Dubai. My focus has to stay steady—I won’t let these blockers stand in the way of growth.

I was scrolling through reels in the office when Hari barged in.

“You’re on your phone while everything’s on fire?”

“Twitter,” I said, flipping my phone. “Important updates.”

He crossed his arms. “Our vendor pushed timelines again. Their accuracy still sucks.”

“Then move to the second vendor. That’s what proxies are for,” I snapped.

“Oh right, except your dad’s in a cold war with that vendor’s father. That’s why we kept them on limited production.”

“Temporarily. Just ramp up. R&D can’t stop, and sales have begun.”

“You sure? What about your dad?”

“He’ll understand,” I muttered, scrolling again.

“Hardly,” he snorted.

He was right. When it comes to my father, I either overthink my replies—or say nothing at all. It’s not that we don’t get along. I just respect him too much to disappoint him. I know he’d have a solution for this mess too, but I want to handle it myself. If he tells me to drop the proxy vendor just because of personal grudges, I won’t be able to fight him.

“Look,” I told Hari, “we’re only doing limited trials. I already told Dad about the machine glitches. He’ll get it.”
Hari sighed and sat next to me. “Sure you were watching Twitter.”
“Any doubt?”
“If you miss her that much, just talk to her.”
“She doesn’t reply,” slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Hari burst out laughing. “Brother, go fix your timelines—or your girl. Everything’s delayed for you lately.”
“She won’t understand.”
“Oh, your dad would, but she won’t? Wow.”

He left me with a thought I couldn’t shake—Reva and Dad, both are logical, both blunt, and I don’t want to hurt either of them. And maybe, just maybe, the problem is that I never open up to either.

So that night, I texted her to meet.
Her reply came quick.
“Look, I’m not mad at you. You don’t need to apologize.”
“But I know you didn’t like what Uncle said,” I typed back.
“Uncle was right,” she answered.
“He didn’t say anything wrong, Jace. You have to acknowledge the difference between us.”

Her message burned in my chest. That self-righteous calm of hers—it kills me. She’s too damn composed. I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.

Instead, I called Dad.

“The vendor’s machine still won’t fit the 4-dia specs. We’ll have to redesign. R&D is suffering.”
“Let it rest,” dad said. “It’s R&D, not full sales.”
“But the Dubai samples—limited launch already live.”
“Then what’s the problem?”

I hesitated. “We can’t stop production. I need to shift to the proxy vendor.”
His tone went sharp. “Shift? Why?”
“They can handle over a hundred hard drives per hour.”
“And you need that capacity because?”
“Wait i think that’s why we do the vendor development, keep the secondary supplier!” I snapped.
“Think, Jace. Different vendors, lot sizes, batch management—your team isn’t ready. No one’s as educated as you, Jace. Think from all angles.”

“Then what’s the QA team for?”

“Are you then ready to hire more for store management?”

I paused. I hadn’t planned that far. Dad was right. But again—it wasn’t about logic. It was about that limit. He’d never want me to give that vendor the bigger deal.

“Look, safety stock’s still above the threshold. Send your expert team,” Dad finished. “Check the issue on-site. Don’t panic. Talk tomorrow.” And he hung up.

I worked till late, none of the meetings landing anywhere. I almost texted Reva again—but stopped. She didn’t want to talk. I just sat staring at the phone. Then, stupidly, opened her story.

She was on a date.
Some guy next to her. Drink in hand. Winking at the camera.
Caption: Surrounded by sweetness.

I saw red. Every vein screamed. Everyone’s been teaching me something lately—but no one has cared to understand me. And Reva was supposed to be the exception.

I drove straight to her office. Waited till she came out. She spotted me immediately. I followed her steps, careful not to cause a scene.
She frowned. “What are you doing here?”
I grabbed her hand. “Get in the car.”
“What?” she snapped.
“Get. In. The. Car.” I leaned close to her ear.
“Jace!” she hissed, glancing around.

I didn’t care anymore. I led her to the car, opened the door, gestured silently. She glared— I placed my hand on her head and guided her in.

I drove. Fast. Too fast.
“Slow down!” she shouted.
Her voice snapped me back and I eased off the pedal.

At my flat, she stormed in the moment I opened the door.

“What the hell was that, Jace? I told you I don’t want to see you!” Her voice hit the walls like glass shattering.

“Of course you don’t. You’ve already found someone else!”

“What?” Shock flared across her face.

I showed her the phone. Her story. “This! What is this?”

“What do you mean, Jace?”

“Surrounded by sweetness? You’re out with another guy while I’ve been—”

“So what, Jace? It’s my life!”

I ran a hand through my hair, restraining the urge to yell. “I thought you needed time.”

Her chin lifted defiantly. “Time for what?”

“For us!” My voice rose, almost breaking. “I held back, thinking you’d calm down—not jump into dating someone else!”

“There is no us! You made that very clear at your party.”

“I don’t understand—why does it have to be you?” My breath came ragged, the frustration spilling over.

She blinked, wounded. “Because I’m mediocre? Good for nothing?”

“No!” I stepped closer. “Because you never saw what I feel for you. How much it kills me when you keep walking away every time I try to get close.”

“Because you know it’s impossible!”

“No,” I murmured, stepping in, cutting the space between us until my breath touched her skin. “That’s not impossible. If anything, what’s impossible is you and me staying away from each other.”

On instinct, I cupped her face, fingers at her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. Our faces drew close, her breath mixing with mine, the air electric—one heartbeat away from pushing past the line.

But she shoved me back. “Then why didn’t you tell your uncle that?” her voice cracked, not in accusation, but in genuine need for an answer.

I turned away instantly, my chest tightening. I couldn’t hold her gaze—not when I knew I’d already hurt her in ways I didn’t want to face. My back was to her now, my hands curled into fists.

“Because he wouldn’t understand,” I said quietly, barely above a whisper. “No one would.”

For a moment, I stayed that way—my back to her, shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Then, slowly, I turned, meeting her eyes again with the raw truth I’d been avoiding.

“I thought… you would. I thought you’d be the one to understand me.” My words faltered, each one thick with regret. “But maybe this is it.”

I inhaled sharply, feeling the finality claw at my throat. “You should go, Reva.” My voice broke with the admission. I lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Her hand suddenly tugged on mine. “Do you think this is easy for me?” Her eyes glistened, heat and hurt pooling there. “You think you can appear when you want, disappear when it suits you, and blame me for not understanding?”

That crack in her voice shredded me. I pulled her into me without thinking. “No, Reva… I’m sorry.” I whispered.
She trembled against me, muttering, “You hurt me, Jace.”

“I know,” I admitted, pulling back just enough to search her face. “I kept expecting you to understand my life—my work, my chaos—but I never tried to understand you. Please… give me a chance. I want to be better. For you.”

She stepped back. “I need water,” she muttered, walking to the kitchen.

Her eyes flickered, but she stepped away. “I need water,” she said quietly, retreating to the kitchen.

Silence filled the room like smoke until her voice cut through from across the space—calm, but sharp.

“By the way,” she said, “that guy yesterday—he proposed. Asked me to be his girlfriend.”
My heart stopped mid-beat. “What?” I was at the doorway before I realized I’d moved. “And… what did you say?”
“I said… I’ll think about it.”

We locked eyes from opposite ends of the space, the tension snapping tight between us. The air was charged, magnetic—pulling me forward before either of us had the sense to stop.

In two strides, I was at her, my hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against me. My lips crashed into hers, and her fingers scraped lightly against my neck. It was fierce, desperate—like flame meeting rain, heat and cool colliding, drowning and igniting all at once.

Her mouth moved against mine without a pause, and I caught her, lifting her off the ground as if I could keep her from slipping away ever again. My hand cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss until we were both breathing fast, lost.

Then reality cut in. She wasn’t mine—not yet.

I lowered her gently, my forehead pressing against hers for a long moment. “Don’t go to him,” I murmured, every word a plea. “Be my girlfriend.”

Finally, I’d said the one thing I should have long ago.