Will you be my salt: chapter-5

The bright, cheerful aroma of melting cheese and baked dough fills the air, a stark contrast to the suffocating corporate walls they spent the day in. Shalini leans against the ordering counter, looking at Trisha.
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SHALINI

Honestly, today was so bizarre, haphazard, and completely torturous. We deserve to decompress the stress. This little victory dinner is non-negotiable.

TRISHA (Nodding vigorously)

I feel like I aged ten years between two and three o'click. I'm going to order a massive pizza and—
Trisha steps forward in the queue, completely distracted by the menu overhead. She takes one blind step sideways—

OOMPH......

She collides hard against a solid, unyielding chest. It feels less like bumping into a person and more like walking straight into a brick wall. She stumbles back, her eyes travelling up.
Standing right in front of her is a strong, effortlessly masculine guy. He stands at a perfectly athletic 5'8", with broad shoulders that fill out his casual jacket, and an aura that completely stops Trisha's loud mouth dead in its tracks.

As it turns out, Riansh had been standing right ahead of her in the queue, holding the food tray slightly upward—just a bit higher than her head. When he suddenly turned around, Trisha pivoted straight into him. Because of the height difference, the tray caught against her head and tilted, tumbling violently. The food and sticky, carbonated drinks slid and spilled everywhere—half on Riansh, but most of it splattering directly onto Trisha.

The heavy splashes and liquids soaked right down, rendering the delicate fabric of her shirt uncomfortably translucent.
That was the absolute breaking point. After surviving a day of dodging Mr. Banaji’s wrath and Jayesh’s creepy advances, Trisha’s temper instantly boiled over. Without wasting a single millisecond, she unleashed a torrent of reckless, blistering comments on the stranger she had bumped into:

"Are your eyes just for show, or do you actually keep them in your pocket?! Do you have zero situational awareness, or is standing around like an absolute statue your full-time job? Couldn't you watch where you were going for two seconds?!"

The young man blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to immediate guilt as he raised a hand, trying to step in and diffuse the situation.

"I—look, I'm really sorry, miss, I didn't mean—"

He tried to get a word in, stepping forward slightly with an apologetic expression, but Trisha didn't care to listen to a single syllable. She threw her hands up, her voice slicing right over his attempt at an apology, refusing to let him speak:

"Oh, save it! Don't you dare give me that speech! Do you think an apology is going to dry this shirt up or magically fix this mess?! You're just standing there blinking like an owl because you know you completely wrecked everything!"

He opened his mouth again, making another helpless attempt to clear the air, "Ma'am, please, if you'll just let me explain—"

"Explain what?!" Trisha cut him off at bullet-train speed, her voice pitching higher with pure indignation, not giving him an inch to breathe or defend himself. "That physics doesn't apply to you? That you can just lurk around like a complete pervert and a total douchebag?!"

The stud—whose name was Riansh—was completely stunned. He stood frozen in place like an immovable wall for a solid half-minute, his half-formed apology dying on his lips as he stared down at her in sheer disbelief. The sheer velocity of her cursing was so overwhelming that he couldn't even get a word out.
For a split second, the sheer humiliation of standing there with a soaked, transparent shirt caught up with Trisha. Her bottom lip trembled, and right on the verge of breaking down into helpless tears, a switch flipped in her overstressed brain. Instead of crying, a sharp, hysterical, sarcastic laugh bubbled up from her throat.
"Ha! Oh, brilliant. Just fantastic!" Trisha cackled sharply, clapping her hands together in a sarcastic rhythm, her eyes bright with manic energy. "What a wonderful way to end a day from absolute hell!"
Shalini, completely clueless about the emotional turmoil underneath and running on her usual hyperactive, dramatic wavelength, didn't just make the situation worse—she launched it straight into a comic-tragic catastrophe. Instead of comforting her, Shalini grabbed Trisha’s shoulders, spun her around for the entire Domino's outlet to see, and amplified the chaos.
"Trisha, look at him! Look at this absolute disaster zone!" Shalini shrieked in a voice that carried over the entire restaurant, pointing a long finger directly at the stunned stranger. "He’s standing there looking all arrogant, guilty, and cornered—he’s definitely a married man trying to sneak out for a secret junk-food date away from his overbearing, terrifying wife! Look at that stiff posture; he’s petrified that his domestic tyrant of a spouse is going to find out he cheated on his diet with a cheesy pizza! No wonder he's completely dumbstruck—he's probably calculating how many weeks of silent treatment and emotional torture he just earned from his nightmare wife!"
Trisha’s sarcastic laughter died instantly. She froze, blinking rapidly at Shalini’s wild, high-volume conspiracy theory while her wet shirt clung uncomfortably to her skin. Her expression morphed into absolute, soul-crushing horror as she realized every single person in the restaurant was now staring directly at them—and at the completely mortified, silent Riansh, who looked like he wished the tiled floor would open up and swallow him whole.
And then, cutting through the heavy tension from somewhere behind the crowd, a frantic, theatrical hand started waving into the air.

"Riansh! Oh, dude, Riansh! Bro!"
After at least five excruciating minutes, a guy came barreling through the tables, his face locked in an expression so wildly over-expressive and dramatic that it could easily rival Shalini’s. It was Ishan—standing at a charming 5'6". He skidded to a halt beside Riansh, throwing his hands up in sheer disbelief.
"What on earth did you do, man?!" Ishan gasped, his eyes wide as saucers as he glanced from the soaked, fuming Trisha to the petrified statue of Riansh. "I literally left you alone for five minutes! Five minutes! And look what absolute catastrophe you’ve managed to orchestrate!"
Before Riansh could even blink, Ishan stepped forward. Seeing the disaster zone, Ishan immediately went into damage control to break the ice with his dazzling, charismatic grin. He turned his attention straight to the girls.
"Ladies, ladies, please—before anyone calls the SWAT team, let me clear the air!" Ishan chuckled smoothly, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. Then, pointing a finger directly at Shalini, he zeroed in on her wild theory. "And for the record, to my overly imaginative friend over here—" Ishan gestured to Shalini, "—I can personally guarantee on my life that this tall stud is not married, he is not terrified of a domestic tyrant, and he was definitely not sneaking around cheating on a diet!"
Riansh shot Ishan a look of sheer betrayal, but Ishan smoothly ignored him, using his charm to completely disarm the situation. With a few more witty remarks, Ishan managed to coax a reluctant truce out of the air, subtly making Riansh pay for the entire replacement meal to makeup for the spill. Before Trisha or Shalini could object, Ishan charm-coached them all into accepting an invitation to join their table.
As they all settled around the table, the energy shifted from an outright street brawl to a bizarre, high-tension social experiment. Ishan and Shalini immediately formed an unstoppable alliance of over-sharing, treating the table like a talk show and freely exchanging deeply personal files on their respective best friends.
Ishan leaned forward, flashing an apologetic, boyish smile toward the girls as he threw Riansh completely under the bus to gain some sympathy.
"Look, you have to understand Riansh," Ishan confessed loudly, gesturing dramatically toward his brooding friend. "He’s an absolute introvert! Social interaction is like a physical workout for him. He gets completely tongue-tied around girls—especially around gorgeous and beautiful girls like you two. His brain literally short-circuits. He finds it so difficult to even speak to women, which is why he froze up like a statue out there! He's just a timid, misunderstood soul who doesn't know how to handle fierce women!"
Across the table, Shalini’s jaw dropped. Her dramatic, empathetic heart melted instantly. Hearing that this imposing, broad-shouldered stud was actually an awkward, tongue-tied introvert who got flustered around gorgeous and beautiful girls struck a deeply emotional chord within her. She found it so terrible and disheartening that her expression instantly shifted from suspicion to overwhelming pity.
Before anyone could stop her, Shalini leaned across the table, reached out, and suddenly grabbed Riansh’s hands tightly between both of hers.
"Oh, you poor, sweet, tortured soul!" Shalini gasped, her eyes glistening with unearned tears as she shook his hands vigorously. "I know your pain! I know your pain! The silent suffering of an introverted heart in a loud, aggressive world... I see right through your stoic walls, Riansh! You don't have to pretend anymore!"
Riansh sat completely paralyzed, staring down at his hands trapped inside Shalini’s fervent grip, looking like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
Seizing the momentum, Ishan and Shalini happily blurted out more unrequested intel, loudly reassuring them that both Riansh and Trisha were completely single, unmarried, and devastatingly available, while Shalini nodded along eagerly, treating the revelation like a tragic romance novel unfolding in real-time.
Meanwhile, Trisha’s head slowly snapped to the side. Her eyes went wide with absolute betrayal as she stared at Shalini with an expression that screamed, Whose side are you actually on?!
Perhaps it was the crushing awkwardness, or perhaps it was Riansh’s desperate need to defend his bruised ego after being painted as a helpless puppy, but he decided to break his silence. Looking straight across the table at Trisha, his voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant with unfortunate, unfiltered bluntness.
"Well, for starters, the whole collision could have been avoided if you had just looked where you were pivoting," Riansh said, his tone entirely serious. "You turned around without checking your blind spot, practically marched right into my chest, and then reacted like I engineered the whole thing."
The entire table instantly went dead silent.
Ishan’s coffee cup froze halfway to his mouth. Both of Ishan's eyebrows shot violently upward, meeting near the middle in a sharp, exaggerated arch of absolute, unadulterated horror. Next to him, Shalini’s jaw dropped so low it practically hit the laminate tabletop, her eyes widening into saucers as she stared at Riansh like he had just declared war.
Panicking, Ishan immediately went into emergency mode. He whipped his head toward Riansh, violently waving his hands in a frantic slashing motion across his neck, his face contorted in silent agony. Shut up! Shut up, you idiot! Ishan mouthed frantically, letting out a sharp, strangled grunt as he tried to signal Riansh to abort mission.
But Riansh, blind to the absolute social suicide he was committing, just kept digging his grave.
"I mean, it's basic spatial awareness," Riansh pressed on, completely oblivious to Ishan's silent heart attack. "You just spun around blind, collided with the tray, and then blamed me for standing in the wrong spot—"
Ishan dropped his hands, letting out a heavy, defeated groan and burying his face in his palms. He just couldn't shut him up. The man was a walking disaster zone.
Across the table, Trisha’s eyes slowly narrowed into microscopic, lethal slits of pure, unadulterated fury. She didn't say a single word. She just sat there, brutally and unblinkingly staring daggers straight into Riansh's soul. Every time Riansh tried to take a breath—or a bite of his pizza—he found her venomous glare locked onto him. The psychological torture was so intense that poor Riansh found it physically impossible to swallow a single bite of his food, choking down his slice under the heaviest gaze of his life.
Somehow, through sheer awkwardness and rapid-fire chatter, the dinner finally dragged to a close. The bill was paid, and the four of them parted ways outside the outlet. Trisha and Shalini walked back to their apartment together—Shalini sighing dreamily about misunderstood introverts, while Trisha fumed in silence.
A few yards away, as Riansh slid behind the driver's seat of his car and pulled out of the parking lot, the heavy silence inside lasted for all of ten seconds.
Beside him in the passenger seat, both of Ishan's eyebrows shot dramatically upward, meeting near the middle in a sharp, exaggerated arch as he let out a loud, frustrated grunt at the sheer absurdity of it all. He slammed a hand against the dashboard, throwing his head back and erupting into a fit of uproarious, side-splitting laughter.
"Bro! Oh, man! Stop the car, I can't breathe!" Ishan howled, his eyebrows still twitching upward in disbelief as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Did you see yourself back there?! You stood there like a concrete pillar—a big, tall, blank wall plane! That girl was literally screwing your mind to pieces, and you just stood straight as a soldier, waiting for the next order from the colonel!"
Riansh kept his eyes glued to the road, his jaw clenched tight and his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel like he wanted to strangle it.
Ishan didn't let up. Knowing Riansh since childhood, he dropped the hyperactive comedy routine and shifted into a serious, big-brotherly lecture, shaking his head with a wide, teasing grin.
"I mean, are you actually hearing yourself, man?" Ishan started, throwing another theatrical grunt. "You spend way too much time trapped inside your own head, treating every social interaction like a drill regulation instead of just human connection. Man, you don't treat girls like that. They are very sensitive! They don't think practically like us—they’re the emotional creatures here, Riansh! You have to make them feel important and seen, and tonight you actively engineered a catastrophe. You didn't just stumble into a bad situation—you sat right there at the dinner table and pointed out Trisha’s pivot mistakes right after she got drenched in soda! You didn't even try to apologize properly; you acted like it happened because of her! You completely missed the human element, and this—this right here is the exact reason why you are still single!"
Riansh shot a sharp, warning glare toward his best friend, muttering under his breath, "I didn't mean to spill the drink on her, Ishan. It was an accident. I just... I didn't know how else to fix it."
"Well, you definitely didn't fix it," Ishan sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Next time, try listening instead of lecturing. And if by any chance you meet Trisha again, apologise to her properly."
At that, Riansh just rolled his eyes and nodded his head, saying nonchalantly, "Fine. If by any chance..."
"Riansh, I'm going to have to start conducting mandatory social training wheels for you if you behave like this all the time. But what a night it was!"
Ishan laughed heartily, his voice echoing off the car windows as Riansh let out a low, defeated groan of pure misery. By the time Riansh finally navigated them back to their apartment parking lot and cut the engine, the chaotic storm of the evening had finally settled. Both of them got out, completely drained, realizing that their quiet evening had turned into an unforgettable battlefield—and the day was, at long last, finally over.