𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧

"Some memories fade. Others wait for the perfect storm to return."

~~~~

Six years without her, and one glance was enough to ruin my peace all over again.

 The rain had been falling since noon, steady and unrelenting, turning the streets into silver ribbons under the dim streetlights.

Cars hissed past, spraying arcs of water across the road. The air smelled of wet earth, traffic, and the faint sweetness from a nearby tea stall.

Wipers swiped back and forth, barely keeping up, but I wasn't in a hurry. Not until I saw her.

It was just a flicker at first, a figure stepping out of the corner bookstore, clutching a book like it was treasure. She moved quickly, darted under a tin shed with another girl.

And then she laughed.

I knew that laugh.
Hell, I'd know it in a crowd of thousands.

Manvi.

My fingers froze on the steering wheel. For a second, I thought I was imagining it — that my mind was playing another cruel trick. But then she brushed her wet hair off her face, tilted her chin up, and I saw her. Really saw her.

Six years.
Six damn years since I'd last seen that face outside of my dreams.

She was busy wringing the rain from her dress, talking to her friend. Her eyes were bright, her smile... softer than I remembered, but still the same. She still did that tiny scrunch with her nose when she was trying not to laugh too hard.

God, I'd missed that.

I should've driven away. The smart thing would've been to leave before she noticed me. I wasn't ready to see her eyes — not after the way I left. Not after all the texts I never answered, all the questions I left hanging in silence.

But I couldn't move.
I sat there, engine idling, watching her like a man who hadn't seen sunlight in years.

Her friend said something that made her throw her head back and laugh harder. That sound... it wasn't mine anymore. It probably hadn't been mine for a long time.
Still, my chest ached for it.

Six years. I'd told myself she'd forgotten me, that it was better this way. But standing there in the rain, she looked like every reason I ever had to stay... and every mistake I ever made in letting her go.

A horn blared behind me, snapping me out of it.
I glanced at the rearview mirror, the world wanted me to move on.

Instead, I gripped the wheel tighter and whispered to the rain-streaked windshield,
"Six years, Manvi. And you still have no idea what you did to me."

I didn't know if it was longing, regret, or just the cruel game of fate — but I knew one thing.
This wasn't the last time I was going to see her.

Not now. Not after this.

The car ride back to my penthouse felt longer than it should have. The city lights blurred through the rain on my windshield, each one pulling me back to that image of her standing under that tin shed, laughing like the last six years had never happened.

By the time I got inside, I still couldn't breathe right. My heart was thudding too fast, like it hadn't gotten the memo that the moment was over.

I poured myself a drink, hoping it would help. It didn't. The scotch burned its way down, but my chest still felt tight. I tried pacing, tried sitting with the TV on in the background, but my mind kept replaying her smile. The way her hair clung to her cheek. The sound of her voice  even though I couldn't hear what she was saying, I remembered it so clearly it was maddening.

Six years, Veer. Six years and you still...

I ran a hand down my face and exhaled sharply, like maybe I could force the ache out of me. No luck.

The phone rang.

"Ma," I muttered when I saw the name flash on the screen.

"When are you coming home, beta?" Her voice was warm, but the question was the same one she'd been asking for years.

"Not now," I said quietly. "You know I'm... busy here."

"You're always busy," she sighed. There was a rustle, and then another voice came on the line.

"Veer?"

I closed my eyes. "Di."

My sister had a way of cutting through me, of reading the things I didn't say. "You sound... off. What happened?"

"Nothing," I lied, pouring myself another drink I didn't need.

"Don't give me that." Her voice softened, like she knew pushing too hard would make me shut down. "I can hear it in your tone. You're restless. Sad. What is it?"

I hesitated, the words pressing at the back of my throat. I hadn't told anyone — not about her, not about what seeing her again tonight had done to me. But now...

"I saw her, Di."

Silence. Then, gently: "Her?"

"Manvi."

Even saying her name felt dangerous, like I was pulling something sharp out of my chest. "It's been six years. And today... she was just there. Laughing. Looking like—" I broke off, swallowing hard. "Looking like she still owns every part of me I thought I'd buried."

My sister didn't speak for a moment. I could hear her breathing, patient, giving me space.

"I couldn't go to her," I admitted, my voice low. "I just... sat there like a coward, watching. And now I can't get her out of my head."

"You never could," Di's voice was gentle, but it cut deep.

I sank into the couch, resting my head back, staring at the ceiling like the answers might be written there. "It's stupid, isn't it? Six years. People move on. I should've moved on."

"Should've," she echoed softly, "but you didn't."

Her words hung between us, heavier than they should've been.

I rubbed my chest, where the ache sat stubbornly. "I don't even know why it hit me so hard. I thought I was... fine. And then today just seeing her—" My throat tightened. "It felt like no time had passed. Like I was right back where I was... before everything fell apart."

"Veer." Her tone shifted — still warm, but firmer now. "You've been running from that moment for years. Pretending it didn't matter. But it did. She did. And you can't keep pretending."

I laughed bitterly. "What do you want me to do? Show up at her door? Tell her I'm sorry? Tell her I—" I stopped myself, pressing my lips together.

"That you still care?"

I didn't answer. Which was answer enough.

She sighed, but it wasn't frustration. It was that quiet, knowing sound she always made when she understood me more than I wanted her to. "You're going to have a chance, Veer."

"What?"

"The reunion. Next week. I already know your friends are trying to drag you there."

I shook my head. "That's not—"

"Coincidence?" she finished for me. "Maybe not. Maybe life's giving you a nudge. And maybe... you shouldn't waste it this time."

Her words landed in that place inside me I'd been trying to keep locked.

"Don't think about the six years," she added softly. "Think about the next six. What do you want them to look like? And who do you want in them?"

I stayed silent long after she hung up, my glass untouched on the table. Rain still tapped against the windows, steady and relentless  like the memory of her under that shed.

I didn't know what I was going to say if I saw her again.
But I knew one thing.
I wanted to.

~~~~

Some people leave... and you learn to live without them. Or at least, you think you do.

The rain was still clinging to me when I pushed open our front gate, the familiar squeak echoing through the narrow lane. The warm light spilling from the windows was a sharp contrast to the chill outside. I kicked off my sandals on the porch, the soles squelching from puddles, and stepped inside.

"Finally," Aanya called from the living room, sprawled on the sofa with her laptop balanced on her knees. "You look like a half-drowned cat."

I shot her a look, pulling the bag off my damp shoulders. "And you look like someone who hasn't moved since I left."

"Wrong," she smirked. "I went to the kitchen twice. Once for tea, once for pakoras."

From the kitchen, Ma's voice floated over the sound of sizzling oil. "Manvi, go change before you catch a cold! Dinner's almost ready!"

I headed to my room — pale blue walls, a shelf of neatly stacked books, and the faint scent of sandalwood from the incense I'd lit that morning. The smell of rain clung stubbornly to my clothes. I changed into my softest cotton pajamas, towel-drying my hair while watching raindrops race down the glass of my window.

Rainy nights always made the house feel... warmer. Safer.

Dinner was its usual blend of laughter and debates. Aanya launched into a dramatic retelling of a showdown between two boys in her class, mimicking voices and even acting out the slow-motion "dramatic walk-off." Papa nearly choked on his dal laughing, and Ma kept pretending to scold us both while hiding her smile.

For a while, I let myself sink into the moment — the familiar warmth, the rhythm of family.

Later, after Aanya retreated to her room for "urgent exam prep" (which usually meant YouTube breaks every ten minutes), I curled under my blanket, switching off the main light.

I reached for my phone, unlocking it almost without thinking. My thumb swiped to a chat I always checked before bed.

It wasn't active. Hasn't been for years.

The contact name wasn't "Veer." It was saved as something else — a silly nickname from school, one only the two of us would get. My last message was still there too, years old, unanswered. I'd watched that typing bubble once, convinced a reply was coming. It never did.

I didn't know why I still opened it. Habit. Hope.
Sometimes I wondered if he'd deleted my number.
Sometimes I told myself it didn't matter.
And sometimes... like tonight... I wasn't so sure.

I locked the phone and set it face down on my nightstand, closing my eyes. But instead of the usual drift into sleep, the image that came was the rain earlier — and the strange, sharp feeling that someone's eyes had been on me.

I shook it off.
Tomorrow would be just another day.

~~~~

And that's a wrap for Chapter 1!

So... do you think fate is already playing its cards, or was it just a coincidence? 👀

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And drop your thoughts in the comments, I love reading your theories, and they might just shape what happens next... 😉