Just like that—suddenly, quietly—the rain stopped, as if nature had flipped a switch mid-sentence.
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full. Full of lingering droplets clinging to leaves, full of streets glistening with silver reflections, full of something unsaid between Anaya and Pradeep. The two of them stepped out of the café, blinking at the changed world.
The air was cold, crisp, but clean. The scent of wet earth mixed with the faint aroma of roasted coffee beans that clung to their clothes. The clouds had dispersed as abruptly as they'd gathered. Now, a sea of stars spilled across the night sky, and the moon shone like a quiet sentinel above.
The road ahead was still wet, small puddles catching and scattering moonlight. In this dreamlike glow, Anaya and Pradeep walked side by side. Their pace was slow, unhurried—two people strolling through a pause in time.
[squelch, squelch] Their shoes met the damp pavement, the sound light but oddly comforting.
Despite everything—despite the heavy encounter with Satiya earlier in the café—their conversation wasn't heavy. In fact, they were laughing. Teasing.
"I can't believe you just nodded when he called you my boyfriend," Anaya said, trying to suppress a grin.
Pradeep looked smug. "I was just being helpful."
[tap-tap] A raindrop fell on her arm from a rooftop above. She flicked it away.
"Helpful?" she repeated. "You didn't even hesitate. The Oscar goes to—"
"To me," he said, bowing dramatically. "And you—you went along with it! No stuttering, no flinching. Almost like you were used to it."
She bumped her shoulder into him. "Oh shut up."
They shared a laugh that faded into the cold night air.
But then, a more thoughtful look crossed Pradeep's face. His voice softened.
"You know... he didn't seem that bad."
Anaya stopped. Her eyebrow rose. She didn't need to speak—her expression said it all: What do you mean by that?
Pradeep looked sideways at her and added, "I mean... maybe he messed up. But he didn't look like he came to hurt you today."
Anaya's gaze dropped to the glowing wet street for a moment. The humor drained from her smile as the weight of old wounds returned.
"I never said he came to hurt me today," she replied. "But that doesn't mean the past didn't."
She exhaled slowly and let herself go there—for just a moment.
"Back then... when I confessed, he said no. And that was okay. I respected it. What hurt wasn't the rejection—it was what came after. He promised we'd still be friends. He said nothing would change. And for a little while, it didn't."
She paused, eyes tracing the moonlight like it could rewind time.
"But one day, I checked his profile. I was blocked."
[wind whoosh] A gust of cold wind passed, lifting the edge of her scarf.
"I didn't do anything," she said quietly. "There was no fight. No misunderstanding. Just... vanished. Like I didn't matter. Like even the idea of being my friend was too much."
Pradeep was silent for a second. Then he spoke gently.
"You know... for a lot of people, childhood friendships are more like sibling bonds. There's affection, care—but not always romance. Maybe that's what it was for him."
Anaya nodded slightly. "I know. I've told myself that too. Again and again."
Pradeep added, "But yeah, the blocking... that part still doesn't sit right with me. That's not how you end something respectful. That surprised me. It doesn't match the kind of guy he seemed like."
"Right?" she said, almost whispering. "That's why we can never be friends again. He shattered the one part of me that still trusted his words."
[drip... drip... drip...] As if cued by the shift in their conversation, the rain started again. Not heavy, just a gentle drizzle at first.
"Ugh, not again," Anaya muttered.
"Come on!" Pradeep grabbed her hand for a second—not with romantic flair, but pure urgency—and they began to jog.
[splash splash] Their shoes kicked water from the puddles.
They ran through the sleepy streets, laughter chasing them like echoes. The second wave of rain grew heavier, splattering their hair and jackets. Still, they didn't stop—just ran faster, like children in a game.
When they reached the fork in the road, they slowed. Breathless. Drenched. Still laughing.
"See you tomorrow!" Pradeep called, already stepping backward toward his own path.
Anaya gave a mock salute. "Only if you don't get pneumonia!"
He gave a dramatic fake cough before turning the corner and disappearing into the night.
Anaya walked the last stretch home alone. The rain had calmed again, now just misting the streets. She rang the doorbell.
[ding-dong]
The door swung open. Meera stood there with crossed arms, eyes falling immediately to Anaya's soaked clothes and muddy shoes.
"Oh. My. God. You look like a wet cat," Meera said. "Go clean yourself now before you ruin the floor!"
[squelch] Anaya stepped inside, grinning sheepishly as her shoes left tiny prints behind.
"Yes, ma'am," she said with a mock bow and headed straight to her room.
She peeled off the damp layers, took a hot shower, and let the steam thaw her thoughts. The mirror fogged up as she wrapped herself in her towel and returned to her room to check her belongings.
She inspected her notebook, charger, sketches for the club presentation—all safe, all dry. A tiny sigh of relief left her lips.
Then: [knock knock]
Meera entered, a warm cup in her hand. "Your childhood obsession," she announced, "back by popular demand."
She handed the cup of hot chocolate to Anaya.
[clink] as the ceramic met her desk.
Anaya smiled. "Thanks, Meera."
"You and this drink, honestly. You've had the same addiction since you were seven."
Anaya took a sip. The warmth settled in her chest, chased away the leftover rain.
Meera added, "Finish that and sleep early. Don't catch a cold."
"Yes, mom."
Meera rolled her eyes and left, muttering something about "child habits in adult packaging."
Alone again, Anaya sat with the cup, staring out at the dark window pane. Her reflection stared back.
She remembered something. A voice from long ago. Satiya's voice.
"Drink it before it gets cold. You always forget and then complain."
Her grip on the cup tightened.
"Am I still the same as before?" she murmured.
Then, louder to herself: "No. Enough overthinking. Sleep early."
She arranged her books for the next day, laid out her clothes, and turned off the main bulb.
[click] Darkness wrapped around her room, broken only by soft streetlight filtering through the window.
She lay down.
And drifted.
—
The dream came without warning.
Not a new dream. An old one.
She'd had it ten years ago.
Only this time, she wasn't just in it—she was watching it unfold.
The sky was dark, but the world was bright.
Light spilled from every corner—strings of yellow bulbs, chandeliers, marigold garlands twinkling with tiny LEDs. It was a wedding. The music floated in the air like perfume.
[dhol beats, clapping, laughter]
She saw her parents first, dressed in bright festive clothes, smiling like they had no worries. But they looked different. Younger. Happier.
She wandered through the crowd, weaving between people with loud jewelry and louder laughs.
A little girl in a pink lehenga brushed past her.
Anaya blinked.
It was her.
Ten-year-old Anaya, hair in two buns, silver bangles jangling on her wrist, eyes wide with excitement. She was holding a half-eaten laddu and looking around curiously.
She followed the little version of herself across the dance floor and into a quieter garden at the back of the wedding hall.
There, under the fairy lights tangled in the trees, a boy waited.
A little older. Dressed in a kurta too big for him.
He looked up and smiled.
"Come on," he said to the younger Anaya. "Let's go look at the stars."
[crickets chirping, wind rustling trees]
Little Anaya took his hand and they both lay on the grass, side by side.
Present-day Anaya stood frozen, watching them.
The boy spoke again.
"If you ever get sad, just look at the stars. They're the same ones I'm looking at too."
Younger Anaya asked, "Even if we're far away?"
He nodded. "Even then."
Present-day Anaya felt a lump form in her throat.
She tried to move closer, to see his face better.
And just as she did...
He turned.
And smiled.
That smile. It was—
[crash of thunder]
Anaya sat up in bed, heart thudding.
She blinked, touched her chest, looked around.
The dream had dissolved.
But her hands were still warm.
From the hot chocolate?
Or the memory?
She couldn't tell.
Outside, the rain had started again.
But in her room, all was still.
To be continued...