Chai & Matcha Diaries

It had been four months since Reva and I became a couple, and the world didn’t flip—it settled. Fewer fights, more conversations that actually finished. We’d learned the soft timings of us—when to lean in and when to leave space; when a silence meant comfort and when it begged to be broken. Day by day, the small exchanges stitched us closer: her sending a voice note before a meeting because she knew i am going to let everyone complete their out of topic speech first even if i have to sacrifice my part; me screenshotting a menu so she wouldn’t have to pretend she wasn’t hungry; both of us asking for advice not to be right, but to be understood. With every shared errand, every debrief on bad days, every “call me when you reach,” the shape of us deepened in true form. So a weekend away felt right. Rahul had known Reva for a while, and the two of them had developed a surprisingly easy friendship. I thought, why not bring everyone together? Let them see the woman who had changed my life.

We all drove down to a farmhouse in Agra—Raman and his wife Vani, Samar with his girlfriend Riya, Rahul (his girlfriend couldn’t come; she was away on a work project in Japan), and finally, Reva and me. Hari couldn’t join; Rajasthan had him trapped with his newborn baby and sleepless nights. 

The night smelled of grilled meat, laughter, and half-told stories. Everyone was curious, of course. They wanted to know who this girl was—the one who had finally “locked me down,” as they put it. I could feel their eyes tracing her every movement, silently measuring her against their expectations.

But Reva? She didn’t perform. She didn’t try to impress anyone. She was just herself—grounded, real, and soft-spoken. And that authenticity was what made people want to listen.

At one point, Reva turned to Samar, who was struggling with the barbecue. “Look,” she said, “if you can’t do this properly, just pass the tongs to your friend Riya.”

“Who said I’m not doing it right?” he challenged, a little defensive.

“That’s the thing,” she replied, smiling. “No one’s saying it, but everyone’s thinking it. You’ve burned all the pieces, and they’re still raw inside. Please, just do what you’re good at—leave this to someone else.”

Everyone turned to watch Samar, who stood there, silent, then put down the tongs and walked away. But he came back a moment later, grinning. “By the way, Riya isn’t just my friend—she’s my future wife.”

“Hmm, lucky you, Samar,” Reva said, “you’ll never have to eat burnt chicken wings again.”

Laughter rippled through the group. Raman raised his glass. “Thank you, Reva, for saving us from a night of charcoal dinner.”

She laughed, shaking her head. Samar, now making cocktails, poured her a glass. “Try this,” he said, handing her a gin and tonic.

“Mmmm,” she said after a sip. “See? I told you—do what you’re good at.”

“You’re impressed?” Samar asked, looking at her with big, hopeful eyes.

“Very much,” Reva replied. “So much that I’m ready to eat burnt BBQ. Will you cook?”

Samar laughed and handed her the tongs, but then changed his mind. “No, I’ll just serve drinks for everyone.”

Both of them laughed, and I watched, amazed at how Reva could be so blunt yet so kind. People didn’t take offense; they understood her intentions were clear and honest. I wondered if I could ever be that transparent.

Later, Riya joined Reva at the grill. I stood a little apart, watching. Even though Riya was close to Samar, laughing and dancing with him, her eyes kept flicking toward Reva and me. When they finally got a chance to talk, Reva placed a piece of cheese on the grill and said, “Samar really has a good sense of combination—the way he made that cocktail, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it.”

I stayed at a distance, but I could hear them. Riya looked at me, then back at Reva.

“Hmm,” she said, putting down the tongs and sipping her wine. “I wonder what sense Jace has.”

“Excuse me!” Reva responded sharply.

That was my cue. “Reva, come with me,” I said, reaching for her hand. I didn’t want her energy tainted by someone else’s insecurity.

“What happened suddenly?” she asked.

“I have a call—about half an hour. You guys enjoy, and I’ll join you again.”

“Okay,” she nodded. We kissed, and I walked away.

When I returned, everyone had finished eating, except Reva and me. We had dinner together, and then, one by one, everyone drifted off to their rooms. Reva and I ended up sharing one. We hadn’t told anyone the details about our relationship, and it wasn’t something we felt the need to explain. To them, it was just a couple sharing a room. But for us, it was different. This was the first time we’d ever stayed together, alone, in one space. Reva had been to my flat plenty of times, but we’d never shared a room.

I could see her hesitating, searching for something to say, her eyes flicking to mine and then away. I wanted her to break silence, to see her smile, to hear her voice cut through the thick air between us. I wanted to know what she’d say in this high-tension moment, but I couldn’t stand watching her eyes dart from side to side, helpless and uncertain. I couldn’t bear seeing her like this, so I decided to break the silence.

“You have a special talent, Reva,” I said, teasing her. “The way you talk—it’s different.”

“Hmm,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes. “I can do a lot more than you think.”

“Oh, really?” I leaned closer, my voice dropping, my gaze locking with hers. “Tell me what else you can do.”

But the moment turned awkward, and she took a small step back. “I can dance,” she said, folding her hands and giving me a mock-serious look.

“I remember you saying you weren’t much of a dancer before your friend’s wedding,” I teased.

“That was then,” she said, her smile widening. “I can do better now.”

“Show me, then,” I challenged, standing up.

She started dancing, recreating the choreography from her friend’s wedding. She circled me, her movements light and playful, and when she nudged me, I caught her hand. Her cheeks flushed; our breaths mingled. It felt like time itself had stopped holding its breath. But then, a knock at the door shattered the spell. It was Raman, my idiot friend, handing me something I definitely didn’t need tonight.

“Who was it?” Reva asked.

“Raman,” I said, closing the door. “What did he want at this hour?”

I couldn’t tell her what he was really saying or giving me. So I lied. “He wants another round of drinks, but I’m beat. I have a meeting tomorrow, so I think I’ll just sleep here.” I gestured toward the sofa.

Reva didn’t say anything. She just nodded and walked to the bed. I knew this was the best thing for us. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, not even for a second.

The next morning, she woke up to find me already dressed, waiting for her. After she freshened up, we stepped out together. The kitchen and dining table were already set, with juice, oats, fruits, scrambled eggs, and a variety of dishes. Vani was still making scrambled eggs in the kitchen, but I called out and stopped her. After all, I don’t eat non-vegetarian food with Reva. Reva immediately went to help Vani, but as soon as she realized there was an egg on the pan, she tiptoed backward, her expression adorable. Finally, she was about to sit at the table when her eyes fell on it. She gasped—her favorite sweet bread was there, with a glass of milk. She knew it was me. She circled the table, coming to my side where her favorite bread was placed, and hugged me tightly. I could feel everyone watching. For some reason, I felt a little embarrassed, but also… happy. Reva, you surprise me.

I handed her a hot milk cup and said, “Don’t forget!”

She took the cup and started drinking. She picked up a piece of bread and, as she tasted it, she moaned, “Approved, guys, approved!” She held up the bread like a trophy, showing it off. Riya came and stood beside her, staring at Reva as if she might eat her. I could sense Riya’s intentions—she didn’t feel right to me. As Reva reached for another piece of bread, Riya slapped it away so hard that Reva couldn’t even pick it up. Riya took the bread and put it in her mouth, “Mmm, nice.” Reva gave her a weird, annoyed look, and everyone saw what Riya had done. “Sorry, it looked so unique and good, I thought I’d share it,” Riya said, leaning toward Reva. “Why, Reva? Can’t I share? It’s not like it’s only yours.”

“Oh no, no, sure, eat it all you want,” Reva said, then went back to drinking her milk. But before she could bring the glass to her lips, I reached out and moved her hand, causing the milk to spill all over Riya.

“What the hell!” Riya screamed.

“Oops, looks like you set your eyes on the milk too, Riya. You want it all, huh?”

I knew Samar wouldn’t like this, but I didn’t care. He could see Riya was causing trouble, and whether Reva responded or not, I would always stand up for her.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Reva tried to help Riya.

“Why are you so sorry, Reva? Riya was standing so close, this was bound to happen. Don’t worry,” I said, subtly making a joke.

Vani asked Riya if she wanted to go to the washroom with her, but Riya shrugged her off. “I’ll go myself,” she said, walking away with a dramatic flair.

Raman stared at Samar, and Samar knew Riya had started the drama, so he couldn’t say much. “I’ll get her new clothes,” he said, lowering his eyes and leaving.

I went to the washroom after Riya. I saw her wasting water, washing her face, and staring at herself in the mirror. Before I could say anything, I was surprised. She suddenly smiled, lowered her eyes, sighed, and then turned to me. “So you came after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry, I knew you wouldn’t do something like this on purpose.” Good, because I won’t forgive you for your stupidity.

“How stupid was I to get angry at you for no reason?” You’ll get angry at me!

“If you wanted to be alone with me, why all this drama?” She said. This girl had no limits. How self-obsessed could someone be? she still couldn’t understand that everyone knows her drama.

“Look, I’ve forgiven you,” she said, coming closer. I took a step back.

“And as for Reva…” I interrupted, “Don’t even come near my Reva, because I won’t forgive you.”

Samar arrived with her clothes. “Riya, change into these,” he said, handing her the clothes.

“Aww, Samar, you’re the best. Look, your friend even apologized to me. I knew your friends weren’t so rude that they’d do something like this on purpose and not apologize!” she lied. Samar looked at me, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe I’d apologized.

Apologize? Over my dead body.

“Sorry, bro,” I said, shaking Samar’s hand. “How much more embarrassment will you cause?” I said, walking away.

When I returned, Rahul, Reva, Raman, and Vani were chatting together. When they saw me, they all fell silent. Maybe they were gossiping, but Raman knew I didn’t like gossip, so he made a loud noise to shut them up.

I sat beside Reva, but before that, I kissed her on the forehead. It was instinctive. I felt bad and angry at the same time. I knew Reva, the kind of girl she was, would never tolerate someone like Riya, but she was just being nice and dealing with my mess. I couldn’t believe how calmly she was handling everything.

Everyone was watching me. Rahul stopped spreading butter on the bread and stared at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

“Don’t worry, guys, I just checked on her to make sure she didn’t have any trouble.”

“You made sure we didn’t have any trouble either,” Raman said, and we all laughed.

A little later, Samar returned. “Riya isn’t feeling well, I’m taking breakfast up to her room.”

“It looks like the bread didn’t suit her,” Rahul said.

“Come on, Rahul, don’t joke. And Jace, why did you have to spill milk on her? You could’ve just said something,” he said.

“YOU should’ve said something to her, why did you just stand there and watch?” I replied, getting up from my seat. How dare he blame me?

Vani stood up. “Guys, just eat. And Samar, go to her before she comes down and ruins our mood.” We all laughed.

“You guys, I can’t believe…” Samar said, making a face and leaving.

After he left, the stories started—how I used to vanish into the library, how I’d sit in on lectures that weren’t mine, how the dorm bed was always empty. Reva laughed and called me a nerd. 

But i wasn’t a nerd. Never. It was a hunger. Back then, the world felt like a machine with its panels open and wires showing, and if I learned enough, maybe I could make it hum the way I heard it in my head. Curiosity wasn’t a phase; it was oxygen. I didn’t know who I was, so I kept touching everything to see when my pulse would change.

Now I know. But it didn’t arrive like a lightning strike—it was a long, stubborn dawn. I chased a dozen ideas first, tried on different skins: comfort-grade steering wheels to ease fatigue, glare-cutting smart glasses to blunt high-beam burn and what not. I kept iterating, listening for the click that never came. Then the pattern sharpened. What needed changing wasn’t the driver’s fingers or eyes—it was the journey itself. The network. The timing. The margins where errors become accidents. When AI-driven mini-van and trucking routes began to lay themselves out in my head—traffic tides, load balance, driver rest windows, weather corridors—it felt less like invention and more like recognition, as if the map had been waiting for me to read it. The first time a plan moved on wheels exactly the way it moved in my mind, the noise inside me quieted.

Before they could say more about me, I interrupted. “Guys, enough,” I said, and the scrape of a knife against a plate paused. “It starts to sound like I was unstable. I wasn’t. I was looking. I tried everything because I wanted to understand the world—and myself. When I got into the mini-van and truck business, something finally aligned. Since then, my focus hasn’t wandered.”

I turned to Reva because that’s where the sentence was always going to end. “It’s the same with you,” I said, and felt the truth settle as I said it. “I know what I want.”

“Oh, someone’s confessing,” Rahul joked, and I threw a guava at him, which he caught.

“Reva, tell me, does Jace give you enough time? His attention is always on work,” Vani asked.

“It’s not like that. We spend a lot of time together,” Reva said, and that was the answer I was hoping for. I felt happy. My efforts had finally paid off. We’d fought so much about this before we got together, but this time, I’d made every effort to share my time with Reva, and I was glad she acknowledged it.

“Everyone can see, Reva. Yesterday, we saw Jace didn’t come back for an hour from his meeting, and you kept making excuses, saying you weren’t hungry, but you kept looking up the stairs to the room. We know you were waiting for Jace, and you were hungry,” Raman said.

“It wasn’t that much hunger,” Reva defended, trying to hide it.

“So why did you say you wanted to save a spring roll for later?” Rahul said.

“So you saved it!?” Reva replied.

“Yes, madam, I saved the piece that Jace ate first with you,” Rahul said.

“Hmm,” Reva said, thinking, then she paused. “Look, I know Jace is busy with work, but that’s because work is his priority.”

What did she say?

“And I get it,” she added, softer. “My priority is being with Jace. I know he wants to spend time with me, so I manage wherever I can.”

Something tilted. For a second, the table chatter blurred into one low hum. Had I not given her enough time? She’d just said we spent a lot of it together. They were contradicting her; my brain tried to litigate the facts. Yesterday I was with her all day—wasn’t I? Then the reel rewound itself without mercy: laptop open in the car while Raman drove, thumbs firing messages between songs, a “half-hour” call that became an hour because the vendor “just needed five minutes.” Together, yes. But she’d been with the outline of me.

“Sometimes Raman zones out so much he forgets I exist,” Vani laughed.

“When did I do that?” Raman protested on cue.

“Jace sometimes forgets I’m sitting beside him,” Reva said gently, not a blade in her voice, which made it cut cleaner. “He gets so absorbed in his phone that hours pass. He can’t stay away from work for more than two hours.”

Wait. Had I been working all this time? Not giving her time at all? Memory lined up, ugly in its accuracy: Reva scrolling while I “just finished this one thing,” Reva waiting on my sofa for a call to end, Reva changing tracks in the car so I could “think.” We were together, but not really. She had shared a room with my body while my attention lived somewhere else.

The illusion snapped. I wasn’t giving 100%. I was giving presence without presence. That’s not love; that’s proximity pretending to be effort.

I stood. “It’s time, Reva—let’s go.”

“But we’re still talking…”

“It was supposed to be 11, it’s already 12. You need to be home by 5, let’s go.” Suddenly, I wanted to get away from the table, to leave this place.

Reva stayed quiet. From her expressions, it seemed she wanted to avoid a moment with me. I think she sensed I wasn’t feeling good about this conversation, and I didn’t know what to say to her.

“Umm, my charger is upstairs,” Reva said, getting up and heading upstairs.

Bullshit. “Raman will bring it. Let’s go,” I insisted.

“Oh, my leg,” Reva suddenly pretended to have a cramp, just to avoid being alone with me.

“I’ll carry you,” I said, lifting her onto my shoulder and carrying her out to the parking lot. “Alright, alright, put me down,” Reva insisted, and I did.

She sat in the car, and I put the luggage back in our car, said goodbye to everyone, and we left.