Chai & Matcha Diaries

The ride back from Agra to Gurgaon should’ve felt familiar—six hours on a road I’d been here a hundred times. But today, the highway felt endless, stretched thin by the silence sitting between us. Not hostile. Not angry. Just… heavy. Dense enough to press on my chest, to slow my breathing.

Reva sat beside me, her forehead resting lightly against the window, watching the blur of mustard fields and passing trucks. Her hair had loosened from the bun she’d made that morning, a few strands brushing her cheek. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t sulking. She was just… quiet.

I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind was cluttered with everything I wanted to say and didn’t dare to start. I was spinning words in my head, trying to make sense of the way I felt—the way guilt had set up camp inside me. I envied how Reva always seemed to know what she was feeling, could break down our problems like she was my own private therapist. She could read me better than I could ever read myself. And as usual, when I reached the end of my own maze, I found her there, always the shortcut to clarity.

Finally, I pulled over, easing the car onto the shoulder. The engine ticked as it cooled, and dust floated in sunlit spirals outside.

Reva turned to me immediately. “If you’re hungry,” she said softly, “there’s a stop coming up soon, Jace.” There was no impatience in her voice—just Reva being herself: unflappable, quietly observant.

I met her eyes. I pushed a breath out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her brows drew together. “Tell you what?”

“That maybe I haven’t been giving you real time.” I exhaled.

She blinked slowly. “I thought i said we spend plenty together.”

“Yeah, but we’re just there, Reva,” I said, forcing myself not to look away. “It’s not like I’m actually paying attention to you the whole time.”

A flicker of something—hurt? understanding?—crossed her face before she masked it with her usual gentle expression. I didn’t let her look away. “Why didn’t you ever mention?” My voice cracked around the edges.

For a second, she held my gaze. Then she looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. She murmured, a softness in her defeat. “It’s not like I can do something about it, Jace.” There was no bitterness. No accusation. Just a soft, tired kind of honesty. A sigh of acceptance she’d probably given herself long before she gave it to me.

“But I can, Reva,” I said sharply, hitting the heel of my hand against the steering wheel. “I hate that it’s only just now hitting me, how much you were holding back. I’m sorry, Reva. Really.” My jaw tensed, shame climbing up my throat.

She reached and touched my forearm, fingers warm, grounding me in a way only she could. “It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “Both of us… we’re just trying to be here for each other, in our own ways. I have no complaints, Jace.”

She smiled and it was almost heartbreaking.

She deserved better than my blind efforts.

Better than my half-attention.

Better than someone who only now understood how much she had been compromising.

The guilt stung. What had I ever done to deserve her? And Reva definitely did some sin that she got me! But if I said that out loud, she’d launch into a thirty-minute lecture about how I’m hardworking, caring, responsible, blah blah blah.

I tried to steady my voice. “But you’ll tell me if you have any feedbacks?” It came out fragile, like I was asking for a promise I had no right to seek.

She laughed quietly, nose wrinkling in that way that made my chest ache. “Please, Jace. I don’t want to become the demanding girlfriend who pulls you away from your work or your family.” She half-smiled, the words almost a taunt, but I knew there was longing behind them—a hope she kept in check so she’d never feel like too much.

Still, I kept pushing, gentle but persistent. “Still… you must want things. Deserve them. The kind of partner you wish you had?”

She hesitated, her lips opening as if to share what she really wanted, but she ended up whispering, “Yaa, who doesn’t…” Then she paused, really thinking.

Then, almost timidly, “Is it wrong, Jace?” My heart clenched.
Her voice. Her uncertainty. The way she feared wanting more from me.

My heart stuttered seeing her doubt herself for wanting more than scraps. I covered her hand with mine, squeezing gently. “No, Reva. Never.” She looked up, her eyes softening.

“All I’m saying is,” I continued quietly, “I’m not perfect.” She cut in immediately, her tone warm and steady. “And I’m not asking you to be.”

“I know,” I murmured. “But I want to try. I want to be the person you deserve. And this… this half-attention thing… it’s not enough. So I want you to be honest with me. Instead of compromising like this.” I swallowed. “Is it wrong to ask that?”

“No,” She gave a tiny, grateful nod, and the tension slid off both our shoulders.

Then something changed in her. A little spark lit behind her tired eyes—the Reva mischief I loved more than I could ever admit. “You know what else is not wrong?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She didn’t answer.
Instead, she held my gaze, her lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. Her eyes dropped to my mouth. And my breath disappeared.

With sudden confidence, Reva flattened her seat back and slid nimbly onto my lap, straddling me in the narrow car cab. She grasped my collar, eyes glittering with unspoken challenge, and then kissed me—slow at first, then hungrier, her mouth warm and fierce on mine. Her hands buried themselves in my hair, pulling me down to her, while my arms wrapped her waist, desperate to keep her close.

I deepened the kiss, one hand slipping under her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. Her breath hitched—a sound that made my heart slam against my ribs. We lost ourselves in that kiss, every apology and longing pouring between us. Our bodies pressed close, her legs tight around my hips, the taste of her lips and the heat of her skin burning away the leftover insecurity.

Outside, headlights flashed through the windshield. My phone buzzed with a message: Rahul. I glimpsed—”Looks like the problem’s resolved.” I almost laughed into her mouth.

We finally broke apart, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, hearts thundering in sync. I brushed a stray lock from her face. She offered a wicked, satisfied smile.

“Told you,” she whispered, eyes glinting. “I can do a lot more than you think.”

Before I could pull her back, she slipped away with that quiet confidence of hers and settled back into her seat. The world outside blurred as we drove toward our separate homes, but all I could look at was her—my Reva, smiling softly to herself, unaware of the storms she stirred inside me.

And in that moment, I knew.

Well, one day, Reva…
One day, you’ll meet someone who will give you everything you’re scared to ask from me.
Someone who won’t need a highway breakdown to understand how precious your silence is, how gentle your heart is, how rare your patience is.

And maybe that day, you’ll finally understand your worth—
how madly, stupidly high it is.

And of course…
on that day,
I’ll be the one standing far behind,
watching you walk toward someone who can do what I couldn’t—
someone who deserves you in a way I’m only just beginning to learn.