12:03 PM
Drip. Drip.
The sound of water droplets echoed faintly, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder.
Under the shade of a small roof, Shyam sat with a pencil in hand, completely absorbed in sketching. The world around him blurred into the rhythmic strokes of his pencil, the soft rustling of leaves, and the whispering rain.
It was a Sunday, and he was on one of his aimless walks, finding solace in the rain. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the figure running toward him through the downpour.
A girl, soaked to the bone, dashed under the roof. She quickly pulled a towel from her bag and began drying herself, seemingly oblivious to Shyam's presence.
At least, not yet.
When she finally finished, she sat down on the bench nearby, sighing in relief. Only then did her eyes catch Shyam's, who had momentarily paused his sketching to glance at her. Awkwardly, he looked away, pretending to focus on his drawing.
The rain grew heavier, drumming against the roof like a challenge to anyone daring to step into its embrace.
Nearly an hour passed. Shyam, engrossed in his art, didn't notice the girl's curiosity. She quietly approached him, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was drawing.
But Shyam's instincts were sharp. Before she could catch a glimpse, he snapped his notebook shut and turned to her, startled. His expression was a mix of surprise and annoyance.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he blurted out. "You shouldn't look at someone's drawings without permission!"
The girl tilted her head, unbothered by his outburst. Her calm, almost playful demeanor softened the tension.
"Aren't drawings meant to be seen and enjoyed?" she asked innocently, her voice sweet and soothing, as if the rain itself had spoken.
Her words disarmed Shyam. For a moment, he simply stared at her—her gentle features, her sparkling eyes, and the way she seemed completely unaffected by his frustration.
He sighed, opened his notebook again, and turned to the page she had tried to see.
"Yes, they are," he said, his tone softer now. "But only when the artist decides to share them. If I don't want to show my drawings, no one—not even the world—has the right to see them."
His words hung in the air like a timeless truth. The girl blinked, seemingly struck by the depth of his statement.
She sat back down on the bench, looking thoughtful. After a pause, she introduced herself.
"I'm Raitha. You?"
"Shyam," he replied, thinking it was harmless to share his name since they'd likely never meet again.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
What started as a chance encounter soon became a cherished routine.
---
Rainy Days
Whenever it rained, they'd find themselves at the same spot under the roof. Each meeting was filled with conversations about their favorite topics—paintings, the beauty of the rain, and life's little wonders.
They spent hours sketching, challenging each other to draw whatever they could see. The bond they shared was unlike anything they had with others.
But the rainy season, like all things, had to end.
The skies cleared, and so did their shared moments. Neither of them exchanged contact information or asked about the other's life outside their rainy refuge. It was as if they both feared breaking the magic of their unspoken connection.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Yet, no matter how much time passed, the memories of those rainy days lingered.
Shyam and Raitha both realized the depth of their feelings. But it was too late—or so they thought.
---
The Next Rain
A year later, as the first raindrops kissed the earth, Shyam felt an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. The familiar sound of rain awakened a longing he couldn't ignore.
Without a second thought, he ran to that same spot—their spot.
The rain poured harder as he reached the small roof. His heart pounded with anticipation and doubt. Would she be there? Could she have remembered too?
And then, as if fate had answered his silent prayers, he saw a figure sitting on the bench, drenched but radiant.
Raitha.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her eyes widening in recognition. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the rain filling the silence.
"You came back," she said, her voice trembling with both disbelief and joy.
"So did you," Shyam replied, a smile breaking through his nervousness.
This time, neither of them would let the rain wash away their chance.
---
WRITTEN BY [NOOBSUPER2648]