His phone beeped. It was a message from an unknown number.

‘New office: B/72, 2nd Floor, Civil Lines, Near Chancellor Building, DU Campus. Love, Radhika.’

He smiled as he ran a hand through his hair.

His mother entered the room and seeing him smile, was overcome with happiness. She thought of asking if he wanted breakfast but didn’t want to disrupt his pleasant thoughts. She just looked at him from afar, at the smile that she thought he’d lost for good.

Dressed in a black leather jacket, black jeans, a black polo shirt and white canvas kicks, Madhav drove to the Delhi University campus and parked his car in front of Radhika’s office building. Weaving his way through a throng of students, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and went in, passing a sign that read, ‘Keep both your shoes and ego off’. A Swiss cowbell tinkled charmingly above the door.

The place was awash with pleasing fragrances. His heart pounding, Madhav peeked into a huge room with white walls. A girl in a sleeveless floral kurta, navy blue cotton trousers and a bandana tied around her head was painting a cage with birds frozen in flight on a wall.

‘Ahem,’ Madhav tried to capture her attention. The girl turned around. It was Radhika. She looked beautiful, but he was distracted by a drop of white paint on her nose. He alerted her to its presence. Attempting to wipe it away, she unknowingly smeared more paint on her cheeks. She raised her eyebrows as Madhav laughed.

‘What? Come inside, you fool,’ she said, tossing her paintbrush on to a newspaper on the floor. The place was a mess, yet it looked beautiful.

Madhav stepped closer to her. They were inches apart when he pointed at her nose and said, ‘You are painting your face along with these walls, and I don’t know which looks more beautiful.’

He looked at her closely. Her eyelashes looked like velvet. She had nymph-like features: a slightly pointed ears, a dainty nose and pearly teeth. A cute dimple adorned her right cheek and a beautiful pin glinted on her nose. A pair of dangling earrings and a bandana completed her look.

She smiled a little and Madhav was swept away. The shape of her face was so perfect that every curve mesmerized him.

‘You writers really don’t miss a single chance to flirt, do you?’ she teased.

‘How do you know I write?’ he asked, amazed.

‘I know everything, Mr Mehra. I know that love makes you angry.’

He gave her a sheepish smile, suddenly ill at ease thinking about his angsty blog.

‘There’s still some paint left,’ he said, attempting to shift her focus.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘I am talking about your nose.’

She chuckled again. ‘You are funny, Mr Mehra.’

He brought his finger closer to her nose and, gathering all his courage, dabbed at it. It was so soft. He felt like planting a kiss where his finger had been. Controlling his emotions, he hid the writhing inside him with a smile.