We met on Hinge and agreed that neither of us wanted anything serious.
That was the deal.
No expectations. No labels. No jealous questions about other dates.
For the first few weeks, it worked perfectly. We'd meet after work, order food, flirt shamelessly, and spend hours talking after the rest of the world had gone quiet.
She knew I hated coriander. I knew she called her mother every night. She knew when my workday had been awful before I even told her.
This was already becoming suspiciously emotional for something that was supposedly casual.
One Friday, she arrived at my place looking exhausted. We ordered biryani, sat on the floor, and talked about her family situation for nearly two hours.
When she finally leaned against my shoulder, I kissed the top of her head.
She looked up at me.
“That's not very casual of you.”
“Neither is remembering your mother's doctor's appointment.”
She laughed, but then she went quiet.
We kissed, and for once there was no teasing, no pretending we were unaffected. Just two people who had become far more important to each other than their original agreement allowed.
The next morning, she asked if I'd be upset if she went on a date with someone else.
I said yes.
She nodded slowly. “Then I think we need to stop pretending.”
We didn't magically become a perfect couple that day. We had a difficult conversation about what we actually wanted.
But we stopped calling it casual.
Sometimes the label isn't the problem. Sometimes it's the lie you tell yourself to avoid admitting you care.