Fries and Ketchup - Part 1

“Why did I even come here?” Pari thought, adjusting the thin strap of her dress as she stood near the entrance of the banquet hall. It was her office party—mandatory smiles, forced laughter, and people she spoke to only in emails pretending to be best friends for one night. She hadn’t wanted to come at all. A dozen excuses had crossed her mind, but in the end, she had shown up anyway.

Getting ready had taken longer than deciding to attend. She had stood in front of the mirror, rejecting outfit after outfit, until her eyes finally settled on the blue slit dress. Elegant, confident—safe enough to blend in, bold enough to feel like herself. She told herself it didn’t matter. It was just a party.

Still, as she stepped inside and the noise swallowed her whole, Pari already knew—she wouldn’t last long here. She was like this,

The party was loud in the way only rich parties could be—music thumping like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers, laughter spilling from crystal glasses, conversations looping around brands, trips, and people Pari didn’t recognize anymore. She stood near the balcony for a while, nodding at faces she vaguely remembered, smiling when expected, feeling strangely detached inside her glittering silver dress.

At some point, she realized she was bored in a way that couldn’t be fixed with another drink.

“I just need air,” she muttered to no one in particular, grabbing her clutch and slipping past the crowd.

Outside, the night was cooler, calmer. The venue opened onto a wide road lit by yellow streetlights. Cars passed occasionally, their engines humming like distant thoughts. Pari exhaled deeply, finally feeling her shoulders drop.

That was when the smell hit her.

Hot oil. Salt. Something fried and familiar.

She turned her head and frowned slightly. Across the road, under a flickering tube light, stood a small French fries kiosk—one of those steel pushcarts with a glass case, a handwritten menu, and a red ketchup bottle standing proudly like a flag.

French fries… here? she thought, amused.

But her steps slowed.

Because behind the cart stood a man she never expected to see again.

He was older—obviously. His hair had thinned slightly at the temples, and his shoulders were broader now, less boyish. But the posture was the same. The calm way he moved, scooping fries, sprinkling salt with practiced ease.

Pari’s breath caught.

“No way…” she whispered.

She crossed the road without realizing it, her heels clicking faster as recognition settled in.

“Excuse me,” she said softly.

The man looked up.

For a second, he just stared.

Then his eyes widened, and his expression shifted into something like disbelief mixed with warmth.

“Madam…?” he began, then stopped himself. “Pari?”

Her lips curved into a smile she hadn’t worn in years. “You remember.”

“How could I forget?” he said, setting the scoop down. He straightened up immediately, his tone respectful. “It’s been… what, twelve years?”

“Twelve,” she nodded. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

He smiled shyly. “I should say that. You look… very different.”

She laughed. “That sounds dangerous.”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I mean—successful. Elegant.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “And you’re still selling snacks.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Different place. Same work.”

“You used to sell near my college,” she said, though they both knew that already.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes softening. “You and your friends used to come every evening.”

“And you always called me ‘Madam,’” she teased.

He chuckled politely. “Habit.”

Pari crossed her arms lightly. “Don’t.”

He blinked. “Don’t…?”

“Don’t call me Madam,” she said. “Call me Pari. Like before.”

He hesitated. “It won’t be respectful.”

She smiled. “We’re not in college anymore. Just… call me Pari.”

After a pause, he nodded. “Okay. Pari.”

Something warm fluttered in her chest. She hadn’t expected that feeling to return so easily, so vividly.

His eyes briefly scanned her party dress—just a second too long to be accidental.

“You’re dressed for a big event,” he said. “Very… stylish.”

Her cheeks warmed instantly.

“You like it?” she asked, pretending casualness.

He smiled. “It suits you.”

That was all it took.

Back in college, she’d watched him from across the road, pretending to argue with friends about fries while secretly hoping he’d notice her. He had—just never the way she wanted. And now, standing here after twelve years, a single compliment made her feel seventeen again.

“Do you still make them extra crispy?” she asked.

“Always,” he said. “For you.”

She started eating fries with blushing cheeks,

Before she could reply, a sharp voice cut through the moment.

“License papers.”

Both of them turned.

A man in a food inspector’s uniform stood beside the cart, clipboard in hand, expression already annoyed.

“Show me your license,” the inspector repeated.

The vendor wiped his hands nervously. “Sir, I—”

Pari recognized the inspector immediately. Her jaw tightened.

Of course.

He was a friend of her ex—not close, but close enough to be familiar. They’d met at parties, weddings, awkward gatherings where he’d always looked at her a little too long.

The inspector looked up—and froze.

“Pari?” he said, surprised, then smiling slowly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She didn’t smile back. “I could say the same.”

He cleared his throat, regaining authority. “Your license,” he said to the vendor.

“Sir, it expired last month,” the vendor admitted. “But business is finally picking up. I was going to renew it next week, I promise.”

“Rules are rules,” the inspector snapped. “You know how this works.”

“Please, sir,” the vendor said. “Just a little time.”

The inspector’s voice rose. “Pack it up. I’m clearing this kiosk.”

“That’s unfair,” Pari said sharply.

The inspector turned to her. “This is official work. Stay out of it.”

“He’s not harming anyone,” she said. “He’s selling fries.”

“With an expired license.” He told.

“So give him a warning,” she argued. “Why shut him down immediately?”

The inspector sighed theatrically. “Pari, you don’t understand these things.”

“Oh, I understand very well,” she said. “You’re enjoying this.”

The vendor looked between them, confused.

The inspector stepped closer to Pari, lowering his voice. “Why are you getting involved anyway?”

She met his eyes—and made a decision.

She softened her expression, letting a small smile play on her lips. “Maybe because I don’t like seeing people treated badly.”

His gaze lingered. “You always had a kind heart.”

She stepped just a little closer. “You know… I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

His tone shifted instantly. “Yeah? Same here.”

She tilted her head, deliberately slow. “You look… powerful in uniform.”

He straightened unconsciously.

The vendor stared, stunned.

Pari knew exactly what she was doing. And she knew exactly how this would end.

The inspector cleared his throat again. “Look… I could consider letting this go.”

The vendor’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, sir!”

“But,” the inspector added, glancing at Pari, “there would have to be a reason.”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “And what reason is that?”

He smiled, confident now. “You know.”

She didn’t look surprised. Not even slightly.

In fact, she let out a small, humorless laugh.

“I figured,” she said quietly.

The inspector raised an eyebrow. “Figured what?”

“That this would happen,” she replied. “Even if I hadn’t said a word.”

He shrugged. “So? You’re smart.”

She glanced at the vendor, who looked uncomfortable and guilty.

The inspector followed her gaze. “I’ll excuse the license issue,” he said. “Give him time.”

She turned back to him slowly.

“And?” she asked.

His smile widened. “You know, You give your time, I give his” looking directly at her navel.

She knew this is the only thing that satisfies him.

He was always a navel fetish, he used to get all the navel images of his friends’ girl friends from their phone secretly. I m pretty sure he still has my pic that i sent to his friend and the reason for our breakup. He can do anything to satisfy his own needs.

“Hello ??!!! Pari Madam, Where are you?” said snapping at me and poking pencil at my navel like this.

“Where you want to go ??” , She asked.

“There” , he said directing towards the storage room behind the kiosk.

“30 mins for 30 days” , she said. “Oooo, the more the better”, he replied with Mischievous giggle.

The vendor didn’t know what to do. He stood there shocked, surprised, confused with guilt.