The kitchen was dimly lit, the hum of the fridge the only sound.

Aziza leaned against the counter, arms folded. Ayaan opened the cabinet above the stove, pulling out two Maggi packets like he already knew what she'd want.

"Midnight Maggi?" he asked quietly.

Aziza just nodded. "Only therapy I can afford."

Ayaan smiled, real and small. "Baith jao. Main banata hoon."

Aziza blinked. "You cook?"

"Only when someone doesn't eat dinner."

She hesitated, then slipped onto the stool near the counter.

He moved around the kitchen like he belonged there - measured water, lit the stove, tore open the masala sachets with careful fingers.

She watched him. "You do this often?"

"What?"

"Late-night cooking."

He stirred the noodles, then shrugged. "Sometimes. When sleep doesn't show up."

She smiled faintly. "Same."

He looked over. Their eyes met for a moment too long.

He glanced back at the pan. "Is it... your dad?"

Aziza nodded, slowly. "It's always a little heavier on the nights he forgets."

Ayaan didn't say anything right away. He just stirred slowly, eyes on the boiling pot.

Then, almost like confessing to the night, he whispered,
"Kuch log bhool jaate hain... aur kuch roz aate hain, magar kabhi dekhte nahi."

His voice didn't shake, but it held a heaviness.
The kind you carry for years. The kind that sits next to you at dinner, but never asks how your day was.

Aziza looked at him - really looked - and for the first time, she didn't ask anything more.

Because she knew that kind of silence too.

Ayaan stirred the noodles. "Main har raat ek tune banata hoon... phir khud hi sunta hoon." he whispered breaking the slience.

Aziza smiled faintly. "Poetry for me. Har raat ek nayi line likhti hoon... phir sochti hoon kisko bheju, phir kisi ko nahi bhejti."

Silence settled again. Not awkward. Just soft.

Ayaan placed the pan down, turned off the stove and looked at her with a bowl of steaming hot Maggie in hands, "chalo kaha baithna hai"

Aziza simply pointed at the floor beside the dining table, "neeche baithkr khaye?"

"Neeche? kyu chairs me se gir jaati ho?"

"Hatt nhi pata hai kabhi kabhi ese raat me maggie banati hu toh apne room ke floor pr baithkr khati hu... sach me bada sookon milta hai"

Ayaan looked unsure. "Mujhe toh lagta hai zameen pe baith ke khaane se sirf kamar dard milta hai."

But Aziza pulled him down with all her force " bas karo angrez chup chap baith jao"

"Ek hi fork laaye ho tum! ab kon uthegaa yar"

"Maine maggie banaya mai nhi uthunga"

"Mai bhi nhi uthungi maine toh offer kara tha ki mai bana deti hu"

They stared at each other, mock-annoyed. Then Aziza sighed dramatically.

"Thik hai. Mujhe ek bite lene do, phir jaake tumhare liye bhi fork laati hoon."

She took a bite, eyes closing as she tasted it. "Mmm. Perfect."

Ayaan raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Banayi kisne hai? Ab jao, mere liye bhi fork lao."

Aziza got up, grumbling under her breath in fake annoyance. "Ek dum badtameez ho tum."

As she walked away, Ayaan looked at the half-eaten bowl in front of him.
He glanced toward the kitchen... then down at the fork she left behind.

He smiled.

"Har baar sochta hoon, bas door rahoon... par tum ho ke ruk jaati ho mujh mein.", he murmured fondly - and took a bite with her fork.

He was still chewing when she returned and handed him the new fork, sliding down next to him again.

"Lo, tumhara khaas fork."

"Shukriya, huzoor," he said with a mock bow and switched the forks.

"I think," she whispered, "if I ever do fall in love... it'll be like this."

Ayaan looked at her.

"Like what?"

She didn't look at him. Just closed her eyes.

"Quiet. Kind. Like Maggi at midnight."

They kept chatting - soft and easy, like the kind of night you don't want to end.

But just as Ayaan was about to take another bite, Aziza's eyes widened.

"WAIT!" she yelped, pointing at his fork. "Ayaan! Mera hai woh!"

He paused mid-air, maggie still on the fork. "Oh. Oops."

"Uff tumne toh...-"

But before she could finish, he turned to her, brought the fork closer -
-and gently, without a word, offered her the bite instead.

Her breath caught.

He didn't smile like a flirt. He just looked at her, soft, sincere - like he'd always do this for her.

"Lo," he whispered. "Tumhara hai na?"

Aziza blinked, heat rising to her cheeks - from the maggie or him, she couldn't tell.

She leaned in, quietly took the bite.

Aziza didn't say anything at first. Just chewed slowly, eyes fixed on the bowl. But her fingers moved on their own - towards the bowl.

Without looking at him, she took his fork from the bowl, Their hands brushed. Her heartbeat almost tripped.

Then, she calmly scooped a small bite of maggi - and held it out toward him.

"Lo," she said, voice low. "Ab tumhara."

Ayaan blinked. "Aziza..."

"Chup. Zyada sochega toh bhaag jaungi," she warned, half teasing, half terrified at her own boldness.

He didn't move.

She raised an eyebrow. "Nahi khaoge?"

He leaned forward slowly, lips brushing the edge of the fork - her fingers still holding it.

And just like that - in the middle of a half-eaten bowl, tangled legs on cold floor tiles, and shadows dancing across the walls - something beautiful slipped between them.

No confession.

Just quiet knowing.

Ayaan looked at her, noodle still in his mouth.

Aziza tried to look away.

"Maggi ka kamaal hai ya tumhara, I can't tell, par ye wali bite sabse tasty thi" he said, smirking now.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were glowing.

"Bas kha le chup chaap. Drama mat kar."

He grinned and nudged her shoulder.
And they kept eating - one bowl, two hearts, and a silence louder than any confession.

***

[flirting ? No. Just Feeding Each Other at 3AM like We're Married.]

 (Author kuch zyada delulu me hai 🫠🫠 )

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I'm really sorry sweethearts but the updates now are going to be slow, Author ekdum nashe me hai, the study pressure is finally kicking in and I rarely get time but writing is still my escape from all this madness and I will continue to write... but the updates might be slow.

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